Feel Out Of Breath Quotes & Sayings

Feel. Grieve. Let yourself fell the anger at the fact that he was taken from you. Feel the loss of him . Feel the sadness and the missing him. Don't block it out, don't cut so it so stop, don't drink yourself numb. Just sit and let it all rip you apart. And then get up and keep breathing. One breath at a time. One day at a time. Wake up, and be shredded. Cry for a while. Then stop crying and go about your day. You're not okay but you're alive, and you will be okay, someday — Jasinda Wilder

The love that we feel for each other is not about the worldly things, those materialistic possessions, or great looks either.
It's about the breath I hold at your sheer sight. It's about the constant drumming of my heart when you come near me, making me aware of your control on me, and how my senses crave for more of you. My love for you is 'you', and it will still take me eternity to figure out more of it! — Ankita Chadha

I take in a huge breath and look at the sky as hard as I can. I feel like I'm trying to eat it with my eyes. I wish there would be certain things you come across and you could say, Okay, that's one. Put that away for me to pull out later just exactly as it is now. My dream is for me to be a poet who could make things like this sky come to life for someone else. If you see a sunset and try and describe it to someone in normal words, all you can say is, "Boy, I saw a great sunset last night." but if you are a poet, you give it to someone to feel for themselves. Like you make a little seed of what you say, they swallow it, and it blooms again inside their own heart. — Elizabeth Berg

Hey," he says.
I feel foolish for being out of breath and standing over him. The moonlight cuts a line down my chest. "Hey," I say.
"Checking on me?"
"I couldn't sleep. Scottie. She's in the bathroom." I stop talking.
"Yeah?" he says and sits up.
"She's playacting." I don't know how to say it. I don't need to say it. "She's kissing the mirror."
"Oh," he says. "I used to do some messed-up things as a kid. Still do."
I feel wide awake, which always makes me angry in the middle of the night. I'm useless without sleep. I can't get myself to go back to my own room. I sit on the end of the bed by his feet. "I'm worried about my daughters," I say. "I'm worried there's something wrong with them."
Sid rubs his eyes.
"Forget it," I say. "Sorry for waking you up."
"It's going to get worse," he says. "After your wife dies." He holds the blanket up to his chin. — Kaui Hart Hemmings

I missed you," she said softly, her breath against his cheek making his body harden everywhere.
"You too."
"It's terrible to be this infatuated."
"I agree."
"I haven't felt this alive in years."
"Me either."
"Screw the interview," she said breathlessly. "Let's make out."
He saw stars. Literally. Stars. How was this possibly his life? Beautiful women did not show up on the doorsteps of disabled vets and proposition them.
"Are you an alien?" he asked.
"Not that I know of."
"Are we on Candid Camera?"
She took a quick look around the room. "You never know, but my guess is no."
"Is someone paying you a vast sum of money to make me feel like this?"
She bit her lower lip, as if deep in thought. "Not that I recall, but if a million dollars suddenly hits my account, I'll give you half."
"You must be for real. Fine. You win. Let's go make out. — Katy Regnery

We said we'd be friends.'
He looks confused. 'Yeah.'
I don't want to be.'
There's space between us, and in that space there's darkness. I take another step, so close that we share a breath. The same one. In and out.
Tess,' he says. I know it's a warning, but I don't care.
What's the worst thing that can happen?'
It'll hurt,' he says.
It already hurts.'
He nods very slowly. And it's like there's a hole in time, as if everything stops and in this one minute, where we look at each other so close, is spread out between us. As he leans towards me, I feel a strange warmth filtering through me. I forget that my brain is full of every sad face at every window I've ever passed. — Jenny Downham

Quite simply, if you're feeling anxious, angry, a sense of shame, whatever it is, breathe in and agree to touch or feel it. Breathing out, offer space and care to whatever's there. If there's blocking to touching it, emphasize the in-breath and stay embodied. — Tara Brach

About some books we feel that our reluctance to return to them is the true measure of our admiration. It is hard to suppose that many people go back, from a spontaneous desire, to reread 1984: there is neither reason nor need to, no one forgets it. The usual distinctions between forgotten details and a vivid general impression mean nothing here, for the book is written out of one passionate breath, each word is bent to a severe discipline of meaning, everything is stripped to the bareness of terror.
Kafka's The Trial is also a book of terror, but it is a paradigm and to some extent a puzzle, so that one may lose oneself in the rhythm of the paradigm and play with the parts of the puzzle. Kafka's novel persuades us that life is inescapably hazardous and problematic, but the very 'universality' of this idea helps soften its impact: to apprehend the terrible on the plane of metaphysics is to lend it an almost soothing aura. — Irving Howe

In the warmer months of the year one or other of those nocturnal insects quite often strays indoors from the small garden behind my house. When I get up early in the morning, I find them clinging to the wall, motionless. I believe, said Austerlitz, they know they have lost their way, since if you do not put them out again carefully they will stay where they are, never moving, until the last breath is out of their bodies, and indeed they will remain in the place where they came to grief even after death, held fast by the tiny claws that stiffened in their last agony, until a draft of air detaches them and blows them into a dusty corner. Sometimes, seeing one of these moths that have met their end in my house, I wonder what kind of fear and pain they feel while they are lost. — W.G. Sebald

He touches his thumb to my cheek and his wonderful vibrations tune through me like the strumming of a harp. "I love you, Skyla. In time you will feel the same." I catch my breath and hold it, not sure how to respond. A part of me knows this is real. A part of me already has a very special place in my heart for Marshall. And although I'm terribly afraid to admit it, the thought of making love to him has been playing out in the recesses of my darkest fantasies for some time now.
"Really?" His brows arch in amusement. Shit. — Addison Moore

I believe in God as I believe in my friends, because I feel the breath of His affections, feel His invisible hand, drawing me, leading me, grasping me; because I possess an inner consciousness of a particular Providence and of a universal mind that marks out for me the course of my own destiny. — Miguel De Unamuno

The connection we feel to other people isn't bound by geography or space," Wells began. Although Clarke could see him trembling, his voice was strong and clear. "Sasha and I grew up in two different worlds, each of us wondering and dreaming about what was out there. I watched from above, never knowing for sure whether humans had survived here on Earth. I didn't know if we'd ever set foot on this planet again or if it would happen in my lifetime. And she looked up" - he pointed at the fading stars, still faintly visible in the dark blue sky - "and wondered if there was anyone up there. Had anyone survived the voyage into space? Had people managed to stay alive up there all these hundreds of years? For both of us, getting answers to our questions seemed so unlikely. But a million tiny forces moved us toward each other, and we got our answers. We found each other, even if it was just for a moment." Wells took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Sasha was my answer. — Kass Morgan

I want you." She felt the words wrench from her. As they slipped from her mouth into his, he crushed her against him in a grip that left all gentleness behind. His lips savaged, warred, absorbed, util they were both speechless. With an inarticulate mrumuer, Grant buried his face in her hair and fought to find reason.
"Good God,in another minute I'll forget it's still daylight and this is a public road."
Gennie ran her fingers down the nape of his neck. "I already have."
Grant forced the breath in and out of his lungs three times, then lifted his head. "Be careful," he warned quietly. "I have a more difficult time remembering to be civilized than doing what comes naturally. At this moment I'd feel very natural dragging you into the backseat,tearing off your clothes and loving you until you were senseless."
A thrill rushed up and down her spine, daring her,urging her. She leaned closer utnil her lips were nearly against his. "One should never go against one's nature. — Nora Roberts

Kaden reached out with one hand and caressed my cheek. Next with both of his hands cupping my face, he moved in closer until I could feel his hot
breath upon my face and his lips slowly seeping between mine.
The pressure he was putting on my mouth
forced my lips to spread open and allow him access.
One of his hands dropped from my face and took me by the waist forcing our bodies to be as close as possible. I felt a vibration as if there was
electricity crackling between us and it was such a shock to your core that your body needed to find the owner of where the electricity was coming from. — Jennifer Whitfield

I need to fuck you," I said hoarsely. I could barely breathe as I waited for his response and when it finally came, I wanted to shout out in relief. With his eyes holding mine, Dante slowly nodded. His breath was sawing in and out of him and I could feel a faint tremor beneath me. Any doubt I had about him wanting me as badly as I wanted him fled. Dante — Sloane Kennedy

Does it make you feel better to know that I missed the hell out of you?" Ty whispered, lips moving against Zane's. "And I hope your still just a little angry when get back to my hotel."
Zane let out a shuttering breath, "It'll be more than just a little."
Ty hummed, the sound deep and anticipatory. It was almost a purr. "Promise? — Abigail Roux

What you felt, the beast that swallowed you all and spat you back out, that is the great big bloody point of all this. If you learn nothing else from this bizarre and awkward experience--this gathering of strangers to blow into horns and pluck catgut--remember that you have the power to feel that. The power to create that. With your hands. Your breath. You are gods, children, and you can make war. — Kate Racculia

Murder is not about lust and it's not about violence. It's about possession. When you feel the last breath of life coming out of the woman, you look into her eyes. At the point, it's being God. — Ted Bundy

Her eyes widened. I assumed in alarm, but who the hell knew what was going on in her stubborn head. I took the coffee cup from her hand and rested it on the grass next to mine. I leaned in toward her slowly. Her eyes remained steady on mine. Just as I was so close I could feel her warm erratic breath on my face, her hand landed on my chest.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
Maintaining eye contact I smiled, reached out, held the back of her head and pulled her closer still. "What I should have done ten years ago." ~ Preston, A Perfect Moment — Becca Lee

You see, Momo ... it's like this. Sometimes, when you've a very long street ahead of you, you think how terribly long it is and feel sure you'll never get it swept ... And then you hurry. You work faster and faster, and every time you look up there seems to be just as much to sweep as before, and you try even harder ... , and you panic, and in the end you're out of breath and have to stop-and still the street stretches away in from of you. — Michael Ende

My darling,
My day's sweetest moments are at dawn, for I awake with dreams of you still in my head. As the light touches my lips, I can almost feel yours upon mine. I imagine your footsteps coming up the walk, but today is the same as the day before. It is only fanciful thinking.
As the first beams of morning sunlight dance across my weary shoulders I cry out, "How can you be so cheery and bright with so much sorrow across our land?"
I know I must be strong and face another day, but tears fill my eyes. Suddenly, a white dove lands upon my window sill. Surely this be the omen that peace is near at hand. Just like the breath of the coming Spring, this little dove now brings me new hope. God has heard our prayers and our Southland will flower again. — Nancy B. Brewer

It did not seem possible that Wendy Wright had been born out of blood and internal organs like other people. In proximity to her he felt himself to be a squat, oily, sweating, uneducated nurt whose stomach rattled and whose breath wheezed. Near her he became aware of the physical mechanisms which kept him alive; within him machinery, pipes and valves and gas-compressors and fan belts had to chug away at a losing task, a labor ultimately doomed. Seeing her face, he discovered that his own consisted of a garish mask; noticing her body made him feel like a low-class wind-up toy. — Philip K. Dick

A latent warmth flickers behind those golden, burning rings. The Cold struggles to squelch it, shrouding it with the frigid Night. It almost smothers it entirely.
Almost.
But I know it is still there. It is like the heat of an unassuming coal beneath a blanket of graying ash. It is hidden, but not extinguished.
I can feel it. I can feel its gentle breath against my skin, like distant sunlight during newborn spring.
I can hear it. I can hear it reaching to divide the curtains of shadow on his face, like the whispers of blossoms unfolding.
I can see it. I can see it behind his fiery eyes, flickering like a starlight-dappled pool, dancing in and out of view.
It is buried. Buried, but burning nonetheless. Buried but burning, like one last hope in my heart. One last Ember in the dark.
-The Penitent God — S.G. Night

The first cup moistens my lips and throat; The second cup breaks my loneliness; The third cup searches my barren entrail but to find therein some thousand volumes of odd ideographs; The fourth cup raises a slight perspiration-all the wrongs of life pass out through my pores; At the fifth cup I am purified; The sixth cup calls me to the realms of the immortals. The seventh cup-ah, but I could take no more! I only feel the breath of the cool wind that raises in my sleeves. Where is Elysium? Let me ride on this sweet breeze and waft away thither. — Lu Tong

What happens with your stream of experience if you realize that no one is in control of it? If you see that it is just going along of itself, unpushed and unpulled? (This is what the Chinese writing on this page means: The Tao, the course of nature, flows of itself.) You can get the feel of it by breathing without doing anything to help your breath along. Let the breath out, and then let it come back by itself, when it feels like it. And then out again when it wants to go out. — Alan W. Watts

Do you remember when I told you that I sometimes believe that you're not real? That I imagined you just to hurt myself?" Reed says softly with a bitterly self-effacing laugh that has nothing to do with humor. "I know now that you have to be real. This kind of pain cannot exist if you were imaginary," Reed's sexy voice breathes. I feel like I could reach out and touch him, he feels that close to me. "I know you exist, but you're like a sunset to me now - beautiful and so distant that no matter how fast I fly, I cannot reach you. You are always on the next horizon," Reed says sadly, and my breath catches in my throat as an unbelievable ache throbs in my chest. "Tel me where you are. I wil meet you
wherever you are in the world. I wil be there. Just you and me, I swear it. We don't have to endanger anyone else
we'l make sure Buns and Brownie and Zephyr are safe. Just you and me, I promise ... I wil meet you anywhere at anytime ... I wil ... — Amy A. Bartol

When they finally left the shed, he reached out to stop her before she headed back to her house. He pulled her close and began to kiss her. First her lips, then her cheek, and then her neck. Her skin was like fire, as if she'd been lying in the sun for hours, and when he kissed her lips again, he felt her fold her body into his. He buried his hands in her hair, continuing to kiss her as he slowly backed her against the wall of the workshop. He loved her, he wanted her, and as they continued to kiss, he could feel her arms moving over his back and shoulders. Her touch was electric against his skin, her breath hot against his, and he felt himself slipping away to a place governed only by his senses. — Nicholas Sparks

I swear to God, if you throw yourself off this roof, I'm jumping after you, and I'm going to catch you."
Whoa. I don't know what to make of those words.
My eyes widen, my heart racing.
"I'll catch you," he says again, his face so close to mine I can feel his breath on my skin, "because in those few seconds before you hit the ground, I'm going to fucking choke the life out of you for doing that shit. You got me?"
"I got you," I whisper, surprised I can even speak. — J.M. Darhower

Myles kisses me back, almost hesitating before he does.
But I don't give him the chance to stop me. It's like it's not me doing these things, but some piece of myself that's been hidden away until now and has taken advantage of my current mental state to emerge. A part of my brain, or heart, or soul that needs to keep my lips moving against his, that's running my hands through his smooth, soft hair, that's pressing my body against his.
And it wants more.
For a second, I'm sure Myles is going to pull away, but I push my body harder into him, circling my arms around his waist as his hands stroke my hair gently, like he's not sure what else he's supposed to do with them. He's close. So close I can feel every muscle in his chest, every whisper of a breath he lets in or out.
I don't know how we end up on the bed ... — Nikki Rae

We are capable of creating miracles ourselves and the greatest miracle is to create a masterpiece of joy out of your life with no excuses. The thing I focus on is going straight to heart. I go to mine first because if I don't feel it, you're not going to feel it. I take a deep breath and remind myself that before I give it to you I have to give it to myself. — Carlos Santana

When she asked him to play a song while she finished, he had to strum chords for a while and pretend to be tuning up until he settled down. He didn't want her to see how unsettled he'd been by the whole thing. How unsettled he still was. He had thought he was the fisherman, but he saw now - She had pronged him, with a single stroke, pronged him through the heart and he was caught. Just like with Melody, caught. But this wasn't Melody, Dicey wasn't. And besides, he didn't feel pronged, he felt - overwhelmed, out of breath, breathless. — Cynthia Voigt

It's like this. Sometimes, when you've a very long street ahead of you, you think how terribly long it is and feel sure you'll never get it swept. And then you start to hurry. You work faster and faster and every time you look up there seems to be just as much left to sweep as before, and you try even harder, and you panic, and in the end you're out of breath and have to stop
and still the street stretches away in front of you. That's not the way to do it.
You must never think of the whole street at once, understand? You must only concentrate on the next step, the next breath, the next stroke of the broom, and the next, and the next. Nothing else.
That way you enjoy your work, which is important, because then you make a good job of it. And that's how it ought to be.
And all at once, before you know it, you find you've swept the whole street clean, bit by bit. what's more, you aren't out of breath. That's important, too ... (28-29) — Michael Ende

He shuddered, and for lack of any other notion, kissed her forehead. Her arms came up sudden as a snare and held him fiercely, pulling him down onto her again and he seized her, too, crushing her to him hard enough to feel the breath go out of her, unable to let go. He thought vaguely of Brianna's talk of giant orbs that whirled through space, the thing called gravity - and what was grave about it? He saw that well enough just now: a force so great as to balance some body unthinkably immense in thin air, unsupported - or send two such bodies crashing into each other, in an explosion of destruction and the smoke of stars. — Diana Gabaldon

The click of the seat belt securing into the buckle is the only sound to break the awkward silence. I feel his warm breath on my neck as he reaches and I take a deep nervous inhale. His scent fills my nose, it is clean and warm, just like in the coffee shop. The smell of his skin is delicious. I try to stop these thoughts, but they are invading my brain in a way that has never happened to me before. Not even with ... Rick. I try push him back out of my mind at this moment because I feel a sense of guilt. Rick and I are frozen. That's the only way I can describe us. He is faithful, he is steady, he is nice, but he is not like this man in front of me: new, mysterious, and unpredictable. Rick and I are in a state of comfort, but like much of my life, I am becoming more and more discontent with comfort. — Nina G. Jones

I can dive", Sophia said. "Do you know what it feels like when you dive?"
Of course I do," her grandmother said. "You let go of everything and get ready and just dive. You can feel the seaweed against your legs. It's brown, and the water's clear, lighter towards the top, with lots of bubbles. And you glide. You hold your breath and glide and turn and come up, let yourself rise and breathe out. And then you float. Just float."
And all the time with your eyes open," Sophia said.
Naturally. People don't dive with their eyes shut."
Do you believe I can dive without me showing you?" the child asked.
Yes, of course", Grandmother said. — Tove Jansson

The 3 types of terror: The Gross-out: the sight of a severed head tumbling down a flight of stairs, it's when the lights go out and something green and slimy splatters against your arm. The Horror: the unnatural, spiders the size of bears, the dead waking up and walking around, it's when the lights go out and something with claws grabs you by the arm. And the last and worse one: Terror, when you come home and notice everything you own had been taken away and replaced by an exact substitute. It's when the lights go out and you feel something behind you, you hear it, you feel its breath against your ear, but when you turn around, there's nothing there ... — Stephen King

Jesse."
My head springs up with a deep breath of panic. Alex's face appears in my blurry vision. I guess I managed to fall asleep in this old chair after all. Now I feel worse than when I sat down.
"Come." She takes my hand and tugs me until I get out of the chair, leading me to the bed. It's still dark out, but the fire casts enough glow.
"Wait, let me get the-"
"No, this is perfect. Really." She's still whispering. the girl who drives a BMW Z8, and she wears probably two years' worth my salary on her finger, curls up on an unmade bed with an old wool blanket and says it's perfect. — K.A. Tucker

I feel the same way. It doesn't make sense, and I can't understand it, but maybe emotions aren't supposed to make sense," I finally said.
One the other line, Mickey blew out a deep breath.
"Tomorrow, then."
"Tomorrow," I agreed.
Just when I thought he'd hung up, I heard his voice again. "Victoria? Take care of yourself, until I'm with you to do it. — Lucy Connors

Reaching out, I grab his hand and intertwine my fingers with his. And I move into his space until we're not even an inch from each other. Laying my forehead on his chest, I take a deep breath and feel his whole body relax, as if tension is rolling off his body in waves.
I was always the kid who loved the smell of gasoline.
His free hand comes up, and his fingers slip through my hair before his hand settles between my shoulder blades.
"Ben," I say into his shirt.
"Janelle," he whispers back, and I can feel his mouth against my hair. I can feel him smile. — Elizabeth Norris

No one outside could imagine what it felt like to squeeze the life out of a man, to feel the jerking and juddering as you throttled away their last breath. Sometimes Jared found himself staring at his own hands, marveling at what they'd done, disgusted at their violence but proud of their ability to protect. — Holly Stone

Do I often think of Sibylle?
I'd say that I don't know. I don't think about her but I haven't forgotten her for a minute. It's as if I'd never lived without her. Nothing holds us together but I am steeped in her presence. I sometimes remembered the scent of her skin or breath and it would feel as if she was still holding me in her arms while dancing or sitting next to me and I would only have to reach out my hand to touch her. But what is supposed to hold us together - these long evenings, these long nights, these farewells at her door in the dawn light, these endless periods of loneliness? — Annemarie Schwarzenbach

Standing Here My entire world far beneath my feet, I should be filled with pride. Instead, I feel overwhelmed by a sense of defeat. Suddenly it comes to me, toes tempted to test the ledge, that there is a way out of this. Clam surety flows through my veins, and as I turn to wave good-bye, I wonder if it will hurt or if a single person will cry at my funeral. I take a deep breath, a final taste of sweet mountain air. I conjure Leona, Emily. Move my feet closer. Closer There's Grandma One, Grandma Two, and their spouses, waiting for me. I see Dad. Cara. Mommy. I screw up my courage, step over — Ellen Hopkins

You didn't think I could figure something out so the woman I care about doesn't have to walk home in the dark, running from wild dogs? You didn't think I could manage to arrange that and still maintain your honor?" He smelled like Diamond C soap and something woodsy, and his nearness was intoxicating. She splayed her hands on his chest and could feel it heave beneath her palms. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you." "Hannah, I'm not offended." He cupped her cheek with one hand. "You scared me senseless." "I scared you?" "Yes, and I'd tell you never to do it again, but I think that would be a wasted effort." He traced her lips with the pad of his thumb. "And right now, I have something else I'd much rather put my effort into." His hand slipped around the back of her neck, sending shivers coursing through her. She held her breath as he lowered his head until his lips touched hers in the sweetest of kisses. — Lorna Seilstad

Bissell fingered his napkin. "I do, Mr. Boyd. And I know how generous Mr. Hoffa, Mr. Marcello and a few other Italian gentlemen have been to the Cause, and I know that you possess a certain amount of influence in the Kennedy camp. And as the President's chief Cuban-issue liaison, I also know that Fidel Castro and Communism are a good deal worse than the Mafia, although I wouldn't dream of asking you to intercede on our friends' behalf, because it might cost you credibility with your sacred Kennedys."
Stanton dropped his soup spoon. Pete let a big breath out eeeasy.
Boyd put out a big shit-eating grin. "I'm glad you feel that way, Mr. Bissell. Because if you did ask me, I'd have to tell you to go fuck yourself. — James Ellroy

It makes no sense," she said, her voice cracking a little. "You and me." "I know that," he said, reaching out and taking her hand, and the feel of his skin on hers nearly knocked the breath right out of her. "Sort of. But sometimes I think ... " "What?" "That maybe it's the only thing that makes sense. — Jennifer E. Smith

You know when you're on the edge of wake and sleep,and the dream you're leaving feels more real to you than anythin the world has to offer? When you open your eyes,it's as though part of you stayed,and you know you'll nver feel things quite as deeply, experience them quite as truly as you had in that tiny space of awareness between darkness and light. We're going into that." I held my breath,and he snapped out of whatever state he was in.Winking, he opened a door. "Welcome to the Faerie Realms. — Kiersten White

You have exciting eyes,Becca. Too dark to read, which cloaks you in mystery. Pink would offset that, don't you think?"
How was she supposed to think a'tall?! Her pulse was racing out of control. She could even feel him pushing himself against her hips!
"If we really were alone right now, I think I'd have to lift your skirt."
Whispered in his low,masculine voice near her ear, the outrageous remark made her draw in her breath so sharply she almost choked. It completely saved her and brought her to her sense.He'd stepped back as she coughed. She swung around, glaring at him, and was met with a cheeky grin.
"Will you throw yarn at me if I kiss you again?" he asked with a twinkle in his pale blue eyes. — Johanna Lindsey

But she still had that something which fires the imagination, could still stop one's breath for a moment by a look or gesture that somehow revealed the meaning in common things. She had only to stand in the orchard, to put her hand on a little crab tree and look up at the apples, to make you feel the goodness of planting and tending and harvesting at last. All the strong things of her heart came out in her body, that had been so tireless in serving generous emotions. It was no wonder that her sons stood tall and straight. She was a rich mine of life, like the founders of early races. — Willa Cather

Look what I found, Eight!"
Eight disappears from the grass and reappears up in the air next to the Chest. He wraps his arms around it and hugs it. Slime and all. Then he teleports back to the edge of the lake, the Chest still in his hands. "I can't believe it," Eight finally says. "All this time, it was right here." He looks stunned.
"It was inside a Mog ship at the bottom of the lake," I say, walking out of the water.
Eight disappears again and teleports directly in front of me, our noses practically touching. Before I can register how nice his warm breath feels on my face, he picks me up and kisses me hard on the mouth as he twirls me around. My body stiffens and I suddenly have no idea what to do with my hands. I don't know what to do at all, so I just let it happen. He tastes salty and sweet at the same time. The whole world disappears and I feel as if I'm floating in darkness. (Rise of the Nine) — Pittacus Lore

Late have I loved you, beauty so old and so new: late have I loved you. And see, you were within and I was in the external world and sought you there, and in my unlovely state I plunged into those lovely created things which you made. You were with me, and I was not with you. The lovely things kept me far from you, though if they did not have their existence in you, they had no existence at all. You called and cried out loud and shattered my deafness. You were radiant and resplendent, you put to flight my blindness. You were fragrant, and I drew in my breath and now pant after you. I tasted you, and I feel but hunger and thirst for you. You touched me, and I am set on fire to attain the peace which is yours. — Augustine Of Hippo

I love that place where you get in running where you're just never out of breath and you just feel like you could go forever. I love that. I love feeling strong. — Ann Bancroft

Good morning," Owen said pleasantly, glad that he wasn't at all out of breath. "Should I e-mail you my schedule for the week so that you don't miss an opportunity to accidentally bump into me, or can we end this game right now?"
"I don't want to end it," Sterling said just as pleasantly. "We're just starting. So yeah, feel free to e-mail your schedule. Or not. I'm stubborn I'll figure this out either way. — Jane Davitt

By speaking the truth, we learn the difference between our authentic self and our facade. If we put our little masked self out there, the horror is that other people might accept and end up making love to it, while we starve and die of neglect behind it. It's much richer to interact genuinely with the world. When you speak the truth, it feeds and brightens your Spirit. When you don't, it dims your Spirit. Don't you want to live in a way that brightens your Spirit? To take a deep breath and feel what's rocketing and roiling around in your core? What a delight! — Ana T. Forrest

If in fact your time to be called before God, you typically won't know it. Sometimes you will, and these are the hardest of times: When the blood pours from your nose and down your throat, clogging it, causing you to spit and gag. You heave for breath in the smoke and dust. Your equipment seems to suffocate you. You wipe the salty sweat and grime from your eyes, only to realize that it is blood, either yours or that of the enemy. You would stand, but you can't move your legs. You grasp the open, gaping wounds in your body, trying not to pass out from the pain. You feel the anger thinking of the loved ones you will never see again, and losing your life infuriates your soul. You rage to get to your feet and grab for a weapon, any weapon. Regardless of your race, culture, or religion, you want to die standing, fighting like a warrior, an American, so others won't have to. For those looking for a definition, this is the price of freedom. — Rusty Bradley

I take a breath. Words seem suddenly trite and useless, so I step forward and grab Elias's hands, remembering Pop. Touch heals, Laia. I hold fast to him, trying to put everything I feel into that touch. I hope your Tribe is all right. I hope they survive the Martials. I'm truly, truly sorry. It's not enough. But it's all I have. After a moment, Elias lets out a breath and leans his forehead against mine. "Tell me what you told me that night in my room at Blackcliff," he murmurs. "What your Nan used to say to you." "As long as there is life" - I can hear Nan's warm voice as I say it - "there is hope." Elias lifts his head and looks down at me, the coolness in his eyes replaced by that raw, unquenchable fire. I forget to breathe. "Don't you forget it," he says. "Ever." I nod. The minutes pass, and neither of us pull away, instead finding solace in the coolness of the night and the quiet company of the stars. — Sabaa Tahir

Sometimes I wander round and round in circles, going over the same ground, getting lost, sometimes for hours, or days, or even weeks ... But I know that if I immerse myself in it long enough, things will clarify, simplify. I can count on that. When it happens, it happens fast. Boom ba boom ba boom! One thing after the other, taking the breath away. And then, you know, I feel like I'm walking out in some remote corner of space, where no mortal's ever been, all alone with something beautiful ... Once, when I was in Switzerland some friends took me up in some very high cable cars, climbing up a mountain ... There was a restaurant on top and the view was supposed to be sublime. When we got up it was a great disappointment because the clouds were obscuring everything. But suddenly there was a rent in the clouds and there were the Jungrau and two other peaks towering right in front of us ... That's what it's like. — Steven Pinker

Dex gasped, his back arching at the feel of strong hands kneading his ass cheeks, pushing them apart as the head of his lover's slick cock aligned itself then pushed in slowly, the pressure both painful and exhilarating. God, it had been too long. Dex palmed his erection as he was entered, his lover burying deep inside him inch by inch. Hard muscles pressed up against his back, lowering Dex onto the mattress, his breath coming out ragged as his lover buried himself to the root and started rotating his hips, drawing out then pushing back in painfully slow. Dex moaned, his stomach filled with butterflies, the anticipation building like nothing he'd ever felt before. His whole body was on fire, and he writhed with need beneath the deliciously heavy weight. He couldn't remember Lou feeling like this. Had it always felt this damn good? Dex moaned when lips pressed against his skin beneath his ear. "Easy there, Rookie." Dex's — Charlie Cochet

Sit and let your body relax. Find the rhythm of deep breathing that has worked best for you so far. Breathe in, breathe out. Be aware of your breath as we continue with this meditation. Close your eyes if you wish. Let the muscles in your face relax. Release the tension in your jaw. To release tension in your neck, let your head hang forward, and then roll it gently around, making sure to stretch your neck muscles often. We are going to empty your mind. Empty it of worries. Empty it of cares. We are going to just let go. With your eyes closed, feel your mind become a void. Let your concerns and stress slip away. You may wish to visualize darkness or light filling your mind. This is not a painful emptiness. It is a soothing absence of thought. Your mind is calm. Become aware of your body. Notice your breathing and heartbeat. Breathe and relax in the silence until you are ready to open your eyes. Repeat again for three minutes later in the — Alexis G. Roldan

I could feel his hand on my waist, his arms around me, feel the rise and fall of his chest next to mine as I held my breath, and wished the sun would drop out of the sky. — Kenneth Logan

Nick advanced slowly and she backed away. Not out of fear, but out of excitement at the heat in his eyes. She stopped when her back hit the wall and, a second later, Nick's hands slapped against the wall on either side of her head.

His head moved down as her eyelids drifted closed. Her head fell back, tipped against the wall. She expected one of his bone-melting kisses, but he stopped just before fitting his mouth to hers. She could feel his hot breath washing over her face.

"Hello, gorgeous," he whispered.

Charity smiled without opening her eyes. "Hello," she whispered back.

"Did you miss me?"

Every cell in her body had missed him. "You have no idea."

Nick leaned in, pressing his entire body against hers. "Oh yeah," he said softly. "I have an idea. — Lisa Marie Rice

She shouldn't have been beautiful - she was too forward, too freckled, too thin. Still ... Oh, to hell with it all. He wasn't hungry, anyway. He reached out and took her hand, drawing her to him. She drifted near, until she was close enough to kiss. Close enough for him to see the green of her eyes, widening as he turned her hand over, palm up.
"There's something I've wanted to do since the first moment I saw you," he said. It came out close to a whisper.
"Oh?" He could feel the puff of breath from that word against his nose.
"Don't even think of arguing."
She shook her head. Her lips opened, an impossible, inviting fraction.
He set the fork in the palm of her hand and closed his fingers tightly around hers. "I want you to eat," he said. — Courtney Milan

The question haunted me, and the real answer came, as answers often do, not in the canyon but at an unlikely time and in an unexpected place, flying over the canyon at thirty thousand feet on my way to be a grandmother. My mind on other things, intending only to glance out, the exquisite smallness and delicacy of the river took me completely by surprise. In the hazy light of early morning, the canyon lay shrouded, the river flecked with glints of silver, reduced to a thin line of memory, blurred by a sudden realization that clouded my vision. The astonishing sense of connection with that river and canyon caught me completely unaware, and in a breath I understood the intense, protective loyalty so many people feel for the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon. It has to do with truth and beauty and love of this earth, the artifacts of a lifetime and the descant of a canyon wren at dawn. — Ann Zwinger

Some say I loved her to the point of madness, bordering on obsession. She said I put her on a pedestal that her real self couldn't attain. Perhaps they're all right. Perhaps I am mad. And if that's the case, to be frank, I don't give a damn. What I know is that she sets me on fire, and if you were to perform an intradermal test on me, you'd know when she was in it because you'd see the trails of blaze she left behind. Because that's what I feel at the mere thought of her, and I'd rather live my life in flames than be numb without her." He paused, and I let out a breath, but then he said one last thing. "Come back to me, my little Road Runner, my world is cold and boring without you. — Claire Contreras

Jacob being sensitive is an endowment. Think about all you'd miss out on if you didn't feel things so deeply, or see things so clearly."
"But feeling good things deeply means you feel bad things deeply, too."
"Would you rather walk around oblivious to the meaning of things hidden under the surface and the opportunities to feel wonder and joy? Would you want to miss out on moments that take your breath away? — Jacqueline Simon Gunn

Self-government is our right," [Roger Casement] declared. "A thing born in us at birth; a thing no more to be doled out to us or withheld from us by another people than the right to life itself - than the right to feel the sun or smell the flowers, or to love our kind ... Where men must beg with bated breath for leave to subsist in their own land, to think their own thoughts, to sing their own songs, to garner the fruits of their own labours ... then surely it is braver, a saner and a truer thing, to be a rebel ... than tamely to accept it as the natural lot of men. — Adam Hochschild

You've never been in love?"
He let out a quiet breath,and I felt him shake his head. "Easy to say. Harder to feel." He ran his fingers through my hair and tucked a few strands behind my ear. With a light voice, he said, "Out of curiosity, what would you have said if I wanted to..."
"I would've said no."
"Yeah?"
I nodded. "I'm glad you didn't, because that would have been awkward."
His chest shuddered with laughter. — Brodi Ashton

Suddenly, the swan dropped down from the sky, flew low over the swamp, almost touching the water, just slow enough to have a closer look at the girl. The sight of the swan's cold eye staring straight into hers, made the girl feel exposed, hunted and found, while all those who had suddenly stopped eating fish, watched this big black thing look straight at the only person that nobody had ever bothered having a close look at. Her breathing went AWOL while her mind stitched row after row of fretting to strangle her breath: What are they thinking about me now? What did the swan have to single me out for and not anyone else standing around? What kind of premonition is this? Heart-thump thinking was really tricky for her. She feasted on a plague of outsidedness. It was always better never to have to think about what other people thought of her. — Alexis Wright

And then, unbidden, seemingly out of nowhere, a thought or image arrives. Some will float into your head like goldfish, lovely, bright, orange, and weightless, and you follow them like a child at an aquarium that was thought to be without fish. Others will step of the shadows like Boo Radley and make you catch your breath or take a step backward. They're often so rich, these unbidden thoughts, and so clear that they feel indelible. But I say write them all down anyway. — Anne Lamott

There is mountain air in this room. It's cool and moist and almost fragrant. One deep breath makes me ready for the next one and then the next one and with each deep breath I feel a little readier until I jump out of bed and pull up the shade and let all that sunlight in - brilliant, cool, bright, sharp and clear. — Robert M. Pirsig

If you could once make up your mind never to undertake more work ... than you can carry on calmly, quietly, without hurry or flurry ... and if the instant you feel yourself growing nervous and ... out of breath, you would stop and take a breath, you would find this simple common-sense rule doing for you what no prayers or tears could ever accomplish. — Elizabeth Prentiss

And yet something in his dark, still shape spoke of a sadness I couldn't begin to understand, one I suddenly wished I might do something to dispel. Surprising myself, I reached out and laid a hand on his forearm. I heard a sudden intake of breath, but I made myself give his arm a gentle squeeze before I let go. He really didn't feel very different from a human - at least, a human who was well-muscled. The flesh under my fingertips had been firm and unyielding. — Christine Pope

The more you stay focused on your breathing, the more you will benefit, particularly if you pay attention until the very end of the out breath and then wait a moment before you inhale again. As you continue to breathe and notice the air moving in and out of your lungs you may think about the role that oxygen plays in nourishing your body and bathing your tissues with the energy you need to feel alive and engaged. — Bessel A. Van Der Kolk

There is no lock strong enough nor wall thick enough to keep Death out," he murmured, his lips close to my ear so that I could feel the puff of his breath against my skin. The ends of a couple of his braids had found their way under the collar of my flannel night-shirt and tickled the base of my neck.
"Are you speaking literally or metaphorically? — Jenna Black

Breath in...Breath out... Follow the air...Notice how your body relaxes...Notice how your body reacts... From the tips of your toes...Feel them resting...Relaxing...Let your feet loose..Breath in...Breath out...Notice how that feeling of relaxation propagates up through your entire body...Feel the air... — K.J. Kilton

Again, I whisper.
The corner of his mouth lifts, and then I kiss him. Not so gently this time. His hands drop from my face and grab my waist and pull me to him. A small soft groan excapes him, and that noise makes me feel absolutely crazy. I lose it. I wind my hands around his neck and kiss him without holding anything back. I can feel his heart thundering like mine, his breath coming faster, his arms tightening around me.
And then I can feel what he feels. He's waited for this moment. He loves how I feel in his arms. He loves the smell of my hair. He loves the way I looked at him just now, flushed and wanting more from him. He loves the color of my lips and now the taste of my mouth is making his knees feel weak and he doesn't want to seem weak in front of me. So i draw back, and his breath comes out in a rush. His arms drop away from me. — Cynthia Hand

He sighed. "Why do you think you're a werewolf."
Jo took a deep breath. "I don't feel the cold. I can run very fast. I have acute senses. I heal quickly and for five days around a full moon, I'm desperate for sex and can never get enough." She looked straight at him. "What do you think?"
"Well, I have heard your horrible howl." He shuddered. Jo hit him. "Ouch. Okay, turn round," he said.
"Why?"
"I want to see if you've got a tail."
"Very funny."
Alek smirked. "Yeah, it is. Do you like to stick your head out of the car window when you're going fast? — Barbara Elsborg

When I rest I feel utterly lifeless except that my throat burns when I draw breath ... I can scarcely go on. No despair, no happiness, no anxiety. I have not lost the mastery of my feelings, there are actually no more feelings. I consist only of will. After each few metres this too fizzles out in unending tiredness. Then I think nothing. I let myself fall, just lie there. For an indefinite time I remain completely irresolute. Then I make a few steps again. — Reinhold Messner

As he rose to his feet he noticed that he was neither dripping nor panting for breath as anyone would expect after being under water. His clothes were perfectly dry. He was standing by the edge of a small pool - not more than ten feet from side to side in a wood. The trees grew close together and were so leafy that he could get no glimpse of the sky. All the light was green light that came through the leaves: but there must have been a very strong sun overhead, for this green daylight was bright and warm. It was the quietest wood you could possibly imagine. There were no birds, no insects, no animals, and no wind. You could almost feel the trees growing. The pool he had just got out of was not the only pool. There were dozens of others - a pool every few yards as far as his eyes could reach. You could almost feel the trees drinking the water up with their roots. This wood was very much alive. — C.S. Lewis

Well? You just gonna stand there?" She huffed out a breath. "How does she look, Lev?"
Mina looked up at me through lowered lashes, biting the inside of her lip. She wrung her fingers together, and I wondered how it would feel to have those fingers run through my hair.
How did she look?
"Like art," I responded sincerely. — Belle Aurora

I look at her there in the shadows of the shut-down city, her hair falling onto her face, and I can see her trying to figure out if I've lost it. And I have to fight the urge to take her by the shoulders and slam her against a shuttered building until we feel the vibrations ringing through both of us. Because I suddenly want to hear her bones rattle. I want to feel the softness of her flesh give, to hear her gasp as my hip bone jams into her. I want to yank her head back until her neck is exposed. I want to rip my hands through her hair until her breath is labored. I want to make her cry and then lick up the tears. And then I want to take my mouth to hers, to devour her alive, to transmit all the things she can't understand. — Gayle Forman

So that still freaks you out, huh? That might be proof that it needs to happen.
His eyes locked on hers, refusing to let her look away. And when she swallowed, it was so loud, she was sure the whole world heard it.
Or, he said. We could skip the talking.
And do what? She asked, hating her voice for cracking.
Any ideas?
He was so close now, she could feel his breath warming her cheeks. He leaned a tiny bit closer and someone cleared his throat, very loudly. — Shannon Messenger

Riley paused, turning back to face Jack. "Just so you know, we are gonna need some definite PDAs tonight.
Think you can handle that?" There was irritation in Riley's voice, a subtle change, a certain stress. Jack imagined it was a manifestation of fear, and it made him feel better to think that. In answer Jack moved carefully past Riley, sliding a hand over the younger man's black silk shirt, his fingers brushing Riley's left nipple. He heard a hiss of indrawn breath as his hard thigh touched Riley briefly.
"I can handle anything you need, Het-boy," he said, his voice low and growled. "Just follow my cues."
Riley followed him to the top of the stairs, and Jack held out his hand. "Husband?" he smirked.
Riley took his hand, and they started down the sweeping staircase. "Fuck you, asshole," Riley forced out behind a covering smile.
"Not if I fuck you first," Jack said, fast and clear, smirking again as Riley stumbled on the next step. — R.J. Scott

We go in and sit on the sofa by the fire to dry out, and she plays her favourite records, lots of Rickie Lee Jones and Led Zeppelin and Donovan and Bob Dylan - even though she was sixteen in 1982, there's definitely something very 1971 about Alice. I watch as she jumps around the room to 'Crosstown Traffic' by Jimi Hendrix, then when she's out of breath and tired of changing records every three minutes she puts a crackly old Ella Fitzgerald LP on, and we lie on the sofa and read our books, and steal glances at each other every now and then, like that bit between Michael York and Liza Minnelli in Cabaret, and talk only when we feel like it. — David Nicholls

Look. I'm your expert consultant for a rather pathetic monetary wage, and under that agreement I have the option of selecting a technical assistant. He's mine."

She blew out a breath, paced to the window. Paced back. "Not just yours. It makes him mine, too. I don't know how to deal with a teenaged type person."

"Ah, well, I'd say you'd deal with him as you deal with everyone else. You order him around, and if he argues or doesn't jump quickly enough you freeze his blood with one of those vicious looks you're so good at and verbally abuse him. It always works so well for you."

"You think so?"

"There, see." He cupped her chin. "There it is now. I can actually feel my blood running cold. — J.D. Robb

My heart seemed to stop. Garret paused, as if gathering his thoughts, or his courage, then took a deep breath. "I know I've made mistakes," he continued, shaking his head. "But there's still the chance for me to fix them. I shouldn't have walked out that night." His brow creased, a flicker of pain and regret going through his eyes. "Ember, I know you can't feel what I do," he said. "I get that. But ... I want to be with you. And if that's not possible, I'll be content just to be close. Fighting Talon with you and Riley, helping people, saving other dragons from the Order-there is nothing I want more. And nowhere else I want to be. — Julie Kagawa

I held my breath, and refused to blink; he placed his hand on the bed to brace himself as he leaned towards me. Slowly, carefully, his lips
soft, warm, and perfect
found their way to mine. I want to say that it was magical, that I saw rainbows and fairy dust or something fantastic like that, but I couldn't. It was more. Much more.
It was as though the world has fallen down around us, and everything was frozen in ice. But I wasn't cold. I was blazing hot, the fire starting where our lips joined, where angel met mortal, and I could feel the flames flickering out towards the limbs that I was fighting with desperately to keep still, not wanting them to latch onto him, not wanting to seem out of control because at that moment, I would have given anything to be just that. — S.L. Naeole

Even now, you think only in terms of the game. You are well chosen, little bird. Or are you a stoat?" Madame Spetuna bent forward, looking even harder at Sophronia's palms. She was close enough for Sophronia to feel the woman's breath on her skin. "Give your heart wisely." She paused a long time over one particular wrinkle. "Oh, child, you will end the world as we know it." Madame Spetuna swallowed and then turned Sophronia's hands over and placed them, palm down, on the table. She leaned forward, pressing them into the tablecloth as though she might rub out what she had seen. — Gail Carriger

He isn't a government or an army. He's a guy. No matter what you think of any particular war, you've got to feel something for some poor guy ripped out of his life and handed a gun and sent somewhere to kill other guys who've been ripped out of their lives and sent to do the same thing, and while they're both shivering in their foxholes, scared they're not going to see another sunrise, all the fat cats, all the generals and politicos and priests and mullahs and tribal elders who started the whole damn thing, sit way to the rear, moving their chess pieces around." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he took a breath. "He got handed the dirty end of a dirty stick but he handled it. You've got to respect that. — F. Paul Wilson

Of course I am, Gran," I said quietly. I blew out a breath and leaned my elbows on my knees. "I will admit that the withdrawals suck, though."
"That they do," she agreed and came to sit on the bed with me. "The sooner you get to her, the better you'll feel."
"Yeah, but I don't want to scare her. If I run over there before a decent hour, she'll probably freak and kick me out."
"I highly doubt that, boy." She lifted a piece of hair from next to my ear with her fingers. "Girls usually invite cute boys in, not throw them out. — Shelly Crane

One deep breath makes me ready for the next one and then the next one and with each deep breath I feel a little readier until I jump out of bed and pull up the shade — Robert M. Pirsig

Out of frustration, I say things. Now, people listen to me so much I can say it under my breath and everybody hears me ... I said in the past that I'm a work in progress, and I feel like I'm progressing. — Curtis Jackson

I'm standing by the cereal, reaching for a box of Honey Nut Cheerios, when I feel my chest clenching but not unclenching. It clenches tighter and tighter, like someone has wrapped a corset around it. My palms are wet. My head is compressing, growing and shrinking at the same time. I can hear my breathing, and it's so amplified that, to my own ears, I sound like Darth Vader. A woman at the end of the aisle is frozen as she watches me. She looks scared...My breathing is getting louder, and I cover my ears to block it out. And that's when the ceiling starts to spin and the air disappears and my lungs won't stop working and I can't breathe at all. I drop everything and run away from the cart and all that food until I'm out the door. I stand in the parking lot, bent over at the waist, breathing in the fresh night air, and then I lie flat on the ground, as if this will open my lungs wider and make them work again, only the breath won't come. — Jennifer Niven

I didn't just feel it; I recorded each and every sensation. I can replicate each one. I will. I'll play it back plus ten for the pastardthat caused my love to fall. And before they go down, I'll wet the concrete with their brain mattter. I'll explode their marrow out of their bones and make a mess of their capillaries. I'll make a paste of their eyes, Yasmine, I promise. I'll make them bleed from their ears and turn their digestive system against them. They'll digest their own organs. I'll increase their pain receptors so that their clothes feel like sandpaper. I'll make their own breath soun d like a DC-10 is landing in their chest. I'll fill their longs with every excessive fluid in their body I can find. I'll make a decomposing mess of them, I swear I will. They'll pray to gods they don't belive in for the pain to end before I explode each taste bud in their mough and inflame their genitals with the stray parasites they immune system usually fights off. — Ayize Jama-Everett

I returned to the front office, and found that the fire that I had made of large wood was nearly burned out. But as I turned and was about to take a seat by the fire, I received a mighty baptism of the Holy Ghost. Without any expectation of it, without ever having the thought in my mind that there was any such thing for me, without any recollection that I had ever heard the thing mentioned by any person in the world, the Holy Spirit descended upon me in a manner that seemed to go through me, body and soul. I could feel the impression, like a wave of electricity, going through and through me. Indeed it seemed to come in waves and waves of liquid love, for I could not express it in any other way. It seemed like the very breath of God. I can recollect distinctly that it seemed to fan me, like immense wings. — Charles Grandison Finney

She never came back after mid-term break; according to the Automator, 'unforeseen circumstances' had forced her to extend her holiday. Every day Howard sees her classes trooping despondently from the Geography Room to the study hall, or carrying votive bundles of cardboard and paper to the recycling bins, their faces anxious, hopeful, like Indians doing a rain dance. He knows how they feel. Since mid-term he's existed in a constant state of tension, braced against every moment as the one that might finally restore her. Even out of school, even on his own, shopping in the supermarket, sitting at the traffic lights, he finds himself holding his breath. But the days are a series of ghost pregnancies, delivering nothing. — Paul Murray

She didn't need to know how messed up in the head he was. How utterly pathetic he was. It had been months, for fuck's sake. He wasn't supposed to still feel like curling up into a ball, closing his eyes and hoping it was all just a bad dream and Jared wasn't out of his life forever.
Forever.
His throat closed up and Gabriel started walking faster. He wanted fresh air. He hated hospitals. Hated that every tall, dark-haired man in a white coat made his breath hitch. It was fucking stupid. Jared rarely wore white coats; he favored scrubs. But maybe Jared wore them now. It wasn't like he would know. — Alessandra Hazard

I am inundated with feeling. I feel like a pinball machine on tilt. All the buzzers are ringing, lights are flashing, and I am about to fry my circuits. Nothing is coming in,and nothing is going out. I feel electrified. The wires ignited, sparked, and fizzled. I want it all to slow down. I go right to the water to douse my flame. I immerse myself in the hot water. I want to wash the smells off my body. I can smell Isabella's hair, her breath, and her child vaginal scent. My hair smells of smoke,and I want to wash Francis off me. — Holly A. Smith

What do you love more?" she teased. "My hair or my heart?" "Why give me only two choices? Don't leave out your legs, your laugh, the way you bite your lip when you're thinking, the feel of your breath on my face, the sound of your voice in the morning, the way you taste, the three freckles on your nose, the fan of your eyelashes, the caring spirit, the determined soul - so why stop at your hair and your heart? How do you expect me to choose? When what I love the most about you - is you. — Rachel Van Dyken

Caitlin." Hawkins touched her cheek. "That wasn't quite what I had in mind." "Oh, for heaven's sake," she burst out, "do you not see how silly you're being?" "It's only silly if you continue to shy from me like a maiden. You're the MacBride. You've done worse than kiss an Englishman." His hands held her fast at the arms, and he bent to whisper in her ear. "I won the forfeit." His breath caressed the curve of her ear. "I want to feel the fullness of your lips with my own. I want to slide them open with my tongue and taste the sweetness of your mouth. I want to feel your body pressed to - " Summoning the last of her composure, she said, "You've made your point." His hands lifted to her shoulders. "Well? I'm waiting. — Susan Wiggs

I want to tell you something." He placed her palm against her cheek, rough with stubble. "In my life, I've been with women I didn't care about and women I cared a great deal about. But I've never been with a woman who makes me feel the way you do." He lowered his head and whispered against her lips, "Sometimes when I look at you, it's hard to breath. When you touch me, I don't care about breathing." He kissed her slow and sweet, and with each press of his lips and touch of his tongue, her heart swelled and ached. It was wonderful and awful and brand-new. Then he pulled back to say, "I don't know how this is all going to work out, but I want to be with you. You are important to me. — Rachel Gibson