Head On Your Chest Quotes & Sayings

She gestured toward his very fine chest with her pencil. "On the off chance I find out after we're married that your declaration of abiding love and devotion has been an elaborate con job perpetrated by you, Bodie, and Scary Spice ... "
He massaged her arch. "I definitely wouldn't lose too much sleep over that."
"Just in case. You will give me all you worldly goods, shave your head, and leave the country."
"Deal."
"Plus, you have to hand out your Sox tickets so I can burn them in front of your eyes. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Her weight settled on her back foot as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him, now legitimately baffled.

"How delusional are you, aliens in your head notwithstanding? — G.S. Jennsen

How can he not love your hair? It's the same hair that grows out of his own armpits. The same hair that crawls up out his crotch on up his stomach. All over his chest. The very same. It grows out of his nose, over his lips, and if he ever lost his razor it would grow all over his face. It's all over his head, Hagar. It's his hair too. He got to love it. — Toni Morrison

I lie in a bathtub of cold water, still sweating and singing love songs to myself. I put the gun to my head and cock it.
I think of my Grandma and remember that old feeling of being so in love that nothing matters except seeing and being seen by her. I drop the gun to my chest. I'm so sad and I can't really see a way out of what I'm feeling but I'm leaning on memory for help. Faster. Slower. I think I want to hurt myself more than I'm already hurting. I'm not the smartest boy in the world by a long shot, but even in my funk I know that easy remedies like eating your way out of sad, or fucking your way out of sad, or lying your way out of sad, or slanging your way out of sad, or robbing your way out of sad, or gambling your way out of sad, or shooting your way out of sad, are just slower, more acceptable ways for desperate folks, and especially paroled black boys in our country, to kill ourselves and others close to us in America. — Kiese Laymon

What about your freedom?" he whispered in her ear over a minute later, bracing his hands palms down on the wall beside her head. He made no move to stop her as she stroked and petted every inch of that sinfully gorgeous chest, all hard muscle and gleaming skin overlaid with silky-rough strands of dark hair.
"Idiot." She nipped his jaw with her teeth. "The only freedom I ever wanted was the right to love you. — Nalini Singh

It felt like an eternity before he gingerly lifted himself from the table and staggered backwards. Glass shards protruded from chest to groin. The guy looked like a bloody porcupine. A cute, tall bloody porcupine. I'm tall too. Five foot ten. But he had at least four inches on me, even with my thick-heeled boots.
"What's your name?" he slurred.
While visions of reckless homicide charges danced in my head, I contemplated using an alias. Finally, I said my real name, "Sam."
"Nice to meet you, Sammers. I'm Jake," he said. — Betsy Cook Speer

At home in bed a few weeks before he died, I asked him, "Can you breathe okay with my head on your chest like this?" His answer was "It's the only way I know how to breathe. — Paul Kalanithi

Oh, now my Erin, she'd smile down on me no matter where I walked." Grandpop smiled that little smile again. "But I'd be separated from her, and I'd feel that separation in my soul, you see?"
Nathan shook his head.
Grandpop sighed. "You have the Irish eyes, boy. One of these days, you'll see from eyes, not your own, feel with a heart outside your chest. Wild Irish eyes. Nathan. When you love, love well and love true, and take care, lad, because those Irish eyes are windows into not just your own soul, but the soul of the one you love." Grandpop looked out at his Erin's grave.
"And when you lose that heart, you can't leave the places where your memories are the best. And if I left her, I'd not be buried beside her. — Lora Leigh

From Kari Gregg's "What Rough Beast"

{Elliot} blinked when a blade speared neatly through the master's chest from the rear. "Got him," Garrick shouted over the master's shoulder. "Set, Elliot."
Set what?
He didn't care.
He channeled his rage and pierced the dark master through, impaling him on his blade.
Garrick slid his free.
Malachi yanked him down a split second before Garrick's sword severed his head as well as the dark master's. Chest heaving, he sprawled in the dust, blinking at the fuzzy image of the head bouncing across the floor. It came to rest at the bottom spoke of a crumbling ladder, the vampyr's teeth still gnashing.
His new partner dragged him upright and, looking in his eyes, squeezed his shoulder. "Set means your blade will set the enemy for your partner's killing blow" Malachi grinned at him, chuckled. "It also means duck. — Kari Gregg

(Ragnar just came back from the war.)
Then Keita the Viper spun around and ran into his arms, hugging him tight. "This is all your fault!" she accused.
"What is?"
"How much I missed you! And I was shockingly worried about you. I actually cared if you were hurt or had been damaged in some way. She leaned back, squinted up at him. "You weren't, were you? Damaged?"
"Not so that I won't heal."
"Good." She rested her head on his chest. "Believe it or not, I don't know what I'd have done if something happened to you." Keita abruptly pulled back from him and punched him in the chest. "What have you done to me, foreigner? Well, let me make it plain that you'll not trap me in your evil web of amazing sex and unconditional love! I'm stronger than that!"
And Ragnar sighed ... loudly. — G.A. Aiken

Who are you? What's your name?"
"Mi Mi."
"Do you hear that thumping noise?"
"No."
"It must be here somewhere." Tin Win knelt down. Now it was nearly next to his ear. "I hear it more and more distinctly. A soft pulsing. You really don't hear it?"
"No."
"Close your eyes."
Mi Mi closed her eyes. "Nothing," she said, and laughed. Tin Win leaned over and felt her breath on his face. "I think it's coming from you." He crept closer to her and held his head just in front of her chest.
There it was. Her heartbeat. — Jan-Philipp Sendker

He leaned down and cupped her face in his hand. "Every one of the men on my team has scars. And you know what those scars are?" Heaving a shaky breath, she shook her head. "They're proof of survival. They're badges of honor. They're marks of strength." Shane swallowed hard. "You don't have to show me, Crystal. But you do need to know there's nothing on your body I won't love and respect. Because it's you." The words reached into her chest and soothed her heart. — Laura Kaye

Do you want to suck face or not?"
"Suck face?" His head fell back and he laughed, his chest vibrating against me. It was a lusty, full-bodied sound and my toes curled at hearing it. Gideon laughed so rarely.
My hands slid under his sweater and glided over that warm skin. My lips moved over his jaw. "Is that a no?"
"Angel, I'll suck on any part of your body I can get my mouth on. — Sylvia Day

I love silent conversations accompanied by a soft caress on my skin and my head on your chest listening to your heart desires. — Nomthandazo Tsembeni

I meant to resist your charms; I really did.I wasn't going to do this."
Alan took her wrist, guiding her hand over so that he could press a kiss to the palm. "Make love with me?"
"No." Shelby's gaze traveled from his mouth to his eyes. "Be in love with you."
She felt his fingers tighten on her wrist, then loosen slowly as his eyes stayed dark and fixed on hers. Beneath her, she felt the change in his heartbeart. "And are you?"
"Yes." The word, hardly audible, thundered in his head.
Alan brought her to him, cradling her head against his chest, feeling her low slow expulsion of air as his arm came around her. He hadn't expected her to give him so much so soon. "When?"
"When?" Shelby repeated, enjoying the solid feel of his chest under her cheek. "Sometime between when we first stepped out on the Write's terrace and when I opened a basket of strawberries."
"It took you that long? All I had to do was look at you. — Nora Roberts

I am certain you will meet a fine man, one who will shower you with jewels and adoration." She snorted. "I don't care about jewels or adoration. I only want a friend." Possessing a will of its own, his fool mouth responded, "I'll always remain your friend." She met his gaze, her lashes spiky with moisture. "Do you promise?" Unable to bear her tears, Vincent lied. "I promise." Eager to remove himself from his deceit, he brought the subject back to her impending marriage. "And I will not see you married to just anyone. It must be a good man, who will treat you with kindness and respect." Lydia rested her head on his chest. "Will he love me?" "Who could not love you? — Brooklyn Ann

She stared heavenward and shook her head after finding out she'd sent me on a long-distance trip with the son of Lust.
But the detail that sent her over the edge was the fact that my father had me haunted by those demons. No matter how much I tried to explain that it was necessary for me to be able to see the spirits, she was livid. When three o'clock approached and her mood hadn't lightened, I started to worry.
When my dad arrived, Patti stood by the counter with her arms crossed. He appeared as large and frightening as ever. The kind of man nobody would dare to mess with.
Patti walked right up and smacked him across the face.
I jolted. He blinked. She stayed right in front of him and stabbed a finger at his chest, her other hand on her hip.
How dare you do that to her? I don't care what your reasons were. Did you hear her screaming? She was terrified! Don't you ever sic those monsters on her again. Ever! — Wendy Higgins

I'll accept your apology on one condition." He folded his arms across his chest.
"Anything?"
"You trust me."
I cocked my head to the side. "I trust you, Cam."
"No, you don't." He walked over to my small table and pulled out a chair. "Have a seat."
Sitting down, I tugged the hem of his shirt down as he headed back to the stove, putting the tiny skillet over the burner.
"If you trusted me, you wouldn't have reacted the way you did," he simply said, cracking an egg. "And that's not me judging you or any of that kind of shit. You got to trust me that I'm not going to be an ass or freak out over that kind of stuff. You have to trust that I care enough about you. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Take off that coat,' he told him.
'Sir?'
'You heard me.'
The boy slipped out of his jacket, whining, 'What you gonna do? What I'm gonna wear?'
The man untied the baby from her chest and wrapped it in the boy's coat, knotting the sleeves in front.
'What I'm gonna wear?'
The old man sighed and, after a pause, said, 'You want it back then go head and take it off that baby. Put the baby naked in the grass and put your coat back on. And if you can do it, then go on 'way somewhere and don't come back. — Toni Morrison

Falling in love is like catching an incurable disease. Yeah, maybe that doesn't sounds so romantic, but it's true. It's incurable and it's contagious as shit. It makes you want to have babies and raise kittens, pet butterfly wings and sleep with your head on somebody else's chest. Love ... man, it fucks with everything you are and everything you want to be. I like it and hate it. — C.M. Stunich

Hey, and the rock star is here too! How you doing, son?"
"Hey, Mr. Rossi. Thanks for having me today. I'm doing great. How have you been?" I answered.
He lowered his gaze and stepped closer to me. "Good, good, son. I'm sure glad that everything was settled and you didn't have anything to do with hurting our Gracie. Lea told me that you were the one to help her when that son of a bitch got his hands on her. We're forever in your debt, Shane. I knew you couldn't have hurt her." He slid in front of the dining room chair at the head of the table, and sat down, leaning back with his arms folded across his chest. A serious expression crossed his features, "So did anybody get the son of a bitch, yet? Or am I going to have to make some calls ... " Holy shit, it's like the Godfather. — Christine Zolendz

I don't need to lie down," she groused as she stared at the ceiling over their bed.
When Wrath didn't reply, she turned her head on the pillow and shot a glare in his direction.
He was sitting at the foot of the mattress, shoulders set, jaw locked, huge body still as stone.
"I'm fine," she tacked on.
"Uh-huh."
"This is going to be a really long couple of months if we worry about every little twinge."
"You just tried to throw up your liver."
"I did not."
"So you were working on your pancreas?"
She crossed her arms over her chest.
"I can feel you glaring at me," Wrath said.
"Well, I am. This is ridiculous. — J.R. Ward

When I wake up earlier than you and you
are turned to face me, face
on the pillow and hair spread around,
I take a chance and stare at you,
amazed in love and afraid
that you might open your eyes and have
the daylights scared out of you.
But maybe with the daylights gone
you'd see how much my chest and head
implode for you, their voices trapped
inside like unborn children fearing
they will never see the light of day.
The opening in the wall now dimly glows
its rainy blue and gray. I tie my shoes
and go downstairs to put the coffee on. — Ron Padgett

She touched his cheek. "I wondered what love felt like," she said. "Now I know." He crushed her to his chest again. There was no pretense with her. He kissed her again, not caring to hold back the depth of his love. His breathing was ragged when he raised his head. "Oh Addie, Addie, what did I do before you came into my life?" Tears shone on her lashes. "I don't think I lived before tonight." "We must be married. Quite soon, darling girl. I can't wait for long." "I'd marry you tonight," she said. "Right now." He traced the curve of her cheek with his finger. "I'll ask your father for your hand tonight." A shadow darkened the joy in her eyes. "What about Lord Carrington?" "What about him?" "Father seems quite set on a match with him." She wet her lips. "I've been thinking about what you said. That God might be disciplining him. You might be right. — Colleen Coble

Yes. Just now, I was actually trying to rank 'I love you, I like you, I worship you, I have to have my cock inside you,' in terms of relative sincerity.
Did I day that? he said sounding slightly startled.
Yes. Weren't you listening?
No, he admitted. I meant every word of it though. His hand cupped one buttock, weighing it appreciatively. Still do come to that.
What, even that last one? I laughed and rubbed my forehead gently against his chest, feeling his jaw rest snugly on top of my head.
Oh, aye, he said gathering me firmly against him with a sigh. I will say the flesh requires a bit of supper and a wee rest before I think of doin' it again, but the spirit is always willing. God, ye have the sweetest fat wee bum. Only seeing it makes me want to give it yea again directly. It's lucky ye're wed to a decrepit auld man, Sessenach, or ye'd be on your knees with your arse in the air this minute. — Diana Gabaldon

There was a boy down at the stables." She laughed suddenly with her back comfortably nestled against Grant's chest. "Oh,Lord,he was a bit like Will, all sharp,awkward edges."
"You were crazy about him."
"I'd spend hours mucking out stalls and grooming horses just to get a glimpse of him.I wrote pages and pages about him in my diary and one very mushy poem."
"And kept it under your pillow."
"Apparently you've had a nodding aquaintance with twelve-year-old girls."
He thought of Shelby and grinned, resting his chin on the top of her head. Her hair smelled as though she'd washed it with rain-drenched wildflowers. "How long did it take you to get him to kiss you?"
She laughed. "Ten days.I thought I'd discovered the answer to the mysteries of the universe.I was a woman."
"No female's more sure of that than a twelve-year-old. — Nora Roberts

You are too kind, my lady. Indeed, you are the most amiable Englishwoman I have ever met."
She laughed. The viscount was rapidly rising on her list. "Some people don't find me amiable." Like a certain unfeeling Bow Street Runner.
He struck a hand to his chest. "I cannot believe that! You are such an alma brilhante ... a bright soul. How can anyone not see it?"
She grinned at him. "They must all be blind."
"And deaf." He tapped his temple. "And not very right in the head."
"Excellent, my lord," she said. "Your grasped that idiom quite well."
He looked surprised by that, then smiled. "I have to learn if I am to impress the senhora."
She cast him a coy glance. "And why would you want to impress me, sir?"
Picking up her hand, he pressed a kiss to it again and this time didn't release it. "Why would I not?" His wistful expression tugged at her sympathies.
"You'd better eat your eggs before they get cold," she said, gently withdrawing her hand. — Sabrina Jeffries

Its been six weeks," he murmured. "Six weeks I've wanted you. I know how you move, and how the sunlight makes a shadow on the curve of your cheek, and the shape of your ear." He chucked harshly then turned his head on the pillow to look at her. "I'm dying," he said. He dropped his fist against his chest. "Right here, you're killing me. — Laura Kinsale

I don't want to die, Buddy.' She put her head on his chest. 'I know this cancer probably won't kill me. But I think about dying all the time. I dream about it. What do you think? Do I get to see Pat on the other side, or do I just lie there in the dirt forever?'
... Buddy wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. 'I think dead is dead,' he said softly, near her ear. 'But that's not so bad. I think of it as following. Following the rest of them ... My mother and father. Your sister. Your mom. But not just them. All of them. All of us. People ... Maybe it's just a way to feel less lonesome about the whole thing, but I think of dying as a path we all go down separately at first, but eventually, together. — Anita Diamant

It was the way your sweet, soft hands wiped away my tears, and the way your body just curved into mine when you let me hold you. It all made me feel, for just an instant, that everything really was going to be all right. No one has ever comforted me like that ... except my mom." What the fuck? Did I just say all that out loud? I shook my head furiously from side to side as the room started spinning me like a Tilt-a-Whirl at the county fair back home.
Abby grabbed my shoulders to steady me. I blinked my eyes trying to focus on her blurry, but beautiful image. "Most of all, it's that I want someone like you to want me - just for me, not for Jake Slater the singer of Runaway Train." I smacked my hand hard against my chest. "For what's really inside me. — Katie Ashley

Gavin, come on. Mommy doesn't feel good," I complained.
He stopped bouncing and leaned forward to sprawl his body out on top of me, putting his face right up to mine.
"Do you want me ta' beat up your friends, Mommy?" he whispered conspiratorially.
I removed my hands from my head and opened my eyes to look at him.
"What are you talking about, Gav?"
He brought his hands up and put them on my chest, resting his chin on top.
"Your friends, Mommy. The ones who maded you sick," he said in a voice that clearly screamed, "Duh. — Tara Sivec

Bending his head, Kai pressed his lips to her knuckles. The plating had no nerve endings, and yet the touch sent a tingle of electricity along her arm.
"Cinder?"
"Mm?"
He lifted his gaze. "Just to be clear, you're not using your mind powers on me right now, are you?"
She blinked. "Of course not."
"Just checking."
Then he slid his arms around her waist and kissed her.
Cinder gasped, pressing her palms against his chest. Kai pulled her closer.
Seconds later, her brain began registering all the new chemicals flooding her system. INCREASED LEVELS OF DOPAMINE AND ENDORPHINS, REDUCED AMOUNTS OF CORTISOL, ERRATIC PULSE, RISING BLOOD PRESSURE ...
Leaning into him, Cinder sent the messages away. Her hands tentatively made their way to his shoulders, before stringing around his neck. — Marissa Meyer

I think we've met our quota for tearful reunions," she chuckled against the top of my head.
"When this is done, I promise I'm never going to leave the house ever again. We'll just stay in and order pizza and watch bad television."
Mom pulled away and looked over my shoulder. "Oh, I think you might want to get out every now and then," she said.
I felt the warm weight of Archer's hand on my waist. "Hey, I like pizza and bad TV."
I turned to him, surprised. "Your chest-"
"Cal," he said by way of explanation. "I owe that guy, like, a mountain of burgers. It's getting embarrassing."
Mom flashed me a little smile before saying, "You know, this isn't how I imagined meeting Sophie's first real boyfriend."
"Mom."
Archer gave me a little squeeze. "You mean I'm the first guy your parents have rescued from an enchanted island via use of a magic mirror? I feel so special. — Rachel Hawkins

Your sense of paralysis will be intensified if your family and friends are in the habit of pushing and cajoling you. Their nagging should statements reinforce the insulting thoughts already echoing through your head. Why is their pushy approach doomed to failure? It's a basic law of physics that for every action there's an equal and opposite reaction. Any time you feel shoved, whether by someone's hand actually on your chest or by someone trying to boss you around, you will naturally tighten up and resist so as to maintain your equilibrium and balance. You will attempt to exert your self-control and preserve your dignity by refusing to do the thing that you are being pushed to do. The paradox is that you often end up hurting yourself. — David D. Burns

My head feels like it's in an oven, this bra is too tight, and I don't think I can spend another hour watching you stroke your chest as if it were the eighth wonder." He slowly opened his coat, a look of mischief in his eyes. "Would you like to touch it yourself? You might discover how magnificent it is - like placing your hands on a Greek god or anointing them with holy water." I — Dannika Dark

We're going bowling tomorrow. Can't you wait until then?"
"I went from being with you every second of the day to seeing you for ten minutes if I'm lucky."
I smiled and shook my head. "It's only been two days, Trav."
"I miss you. Get your ass on the seat and let's go."
I couldn't argue. I missed him, too. More than I would ever admit to him. I zipped up my jacket and climbed on behind him, slipping my fingers through the belt loops of his jeans. He pulled my wrists to his chest and then folded them across one another. Once he was satisfied that I was holding him tightly enough, he took off, racing down the road. — Jamie McGuire

Dominic reached behind his head and tugged on his T-shirt. The rising fabric revealed his abdomen. And yeah, he liked the way her gaze followed the hemline. But his arm stilled, his bicep taut and his T-shirt covering his hair. If he kept going, she'd see the damaged skin on his chest from where the bullet had entered.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked. "My scars aren't pretty."

"I promise to focus on your abs," she murmured without looking up. "And lower. — Sara Jane Stone

You're joking." "No, actually I'm not," my boss said and slapped the folder into my hands. "You leave tomorrow morning and I don't want to see your hairy ass till this is solved." I looked wildly around her office for something to lob at her head. It occurred to me that might not be the best of ideas, but desperate times led to stupid measures. She could not do this to me. I'd worked too hard and I wasn't going back. Ever. "First of all, my ass is not hairy except on a full moon and you're smoking crack if you think I'm going back to Georgia." Angela crossed her arms over her ample chest and narrowed her eyes at me. "Am I your boss?" she asked. "Is this a trick question? — Robyn Peterman

My parents danced together, her head on his chest. Both had their eyes closed. They seemed so perfectly content. If you can find someone like that, someone who you can hold and close your eyes to the world with, then you're lucky. Even if it only lasts for a minute or a day. The image of them gently swaying to the music is how I picture love in my mind even after all these years. — Patrick Rothfuss

I'm lying on Cash's chest, tracing his tattoo.
"What does this mean?" I whisper.
"It's the Chinese symbol for awesome," he teases lightly.
I giggle. "If it's not, which I imagine it isn't, then it should be."
"Are you paying me a compliment? I just want to be sure, so I don't miss it."
I slap his ribs. "You make it sound like I'm mean and horrible because I don't throw myself at your feet."
"You don't have to throw yourself at my feet. Although if you want to, I'm sure I can think of something for you to do while you're down there."
I look up at him and he's waggling his eyebrows again.
"I'm sure you could." Shaking my head, I settle back onto his chest and resume tracing the ink shapes. "Seriously, what do they mean?"
Cash is quiet for so long I begin to think he's not going to answer me. But then he finally speaks.
"It's a collage of things that remind me of my family. — M. Leighton

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

Do you cook like this every day?" A girl can hope, right? He shakes his head. "Only when I have someone to cook for." "God, if I lived here I'd never be able to keep the weight off." He grunts. "You could stand to gain a few pounds." I almost choke on my pasta. "That is so not funny." "I'm not trying to be funny." He shrugs. "I like curves." He looks down at my thighs and licks his lips. "I like your curves a lot." "Stop teasing." My heart thumps in my chest like a drum. "If your brothers heard you say that, you'd never live it down." "My — Tammy Falkner

Dr. R scratches out a note on his pad.
"Losing you both was only the practice pain, wasn't it? For my mum and dad ... "
He puts his finger on his lips, his elbow at his chest, not racked with cancer. "Yes."
"And when that happens, this will seem like nothing."
He nods.
"When it happens," he asks me, "what will get you through?"
"Friends who love me."
"And if your friends weren't there?"
"Music through headphones."
"And if the music stopped?"
"A sermon by Rabbi Wolpe."
"If there was no religion?"
"The mountains and the sky."
"If you leave California?"
"Numbered streets to keep me walking."
"If New York falls into the ocean?"
Your voice in my head. — Emma Forrest

I love you, O'Reilly. When are you going to get that through your thick Aussie skull?"
He laughed softly, and she tilted back her head to look up at him wonderingly, "What's so funny?"
He put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed the tight muscles of her neck. "Do you realize you've never used my first name?" he said. "It's Patrick, you know."
He watched her lips curl into a smile that made his chest ache. "You've always been O'Reilly to me."
"Huh," he grunted. "Except when you're mad. Then I become Mister O'Reilly. — Candice Proctor

See that mountain up ahead?" Jefferson points to a low, rounded mound on the horizon. "I think that's it."
"It's called Independence Rock, not Independence Mountain," I say.
"Everything is bigger out here. Just look at me." He straightens in his saddle and puffs out his chest and fails to keep a straight face.
"Your head is bigger, that's for sure — Rae Carson

I'm sure your wondering why I've brought you here."
I moved to the center of the room, my strappy sandals clacking on the marble floor. "I'm assuming this is where the punishment part comes in," I said. "So do I need to clean all these mirrors, or do I have to,like, stare at myself until I feel shamed or something?"
Surprisingly, Dad gave a tiny smile. "No,nothing quite that abstract. I want you to break one of the mirrors."
"Excuse me?"
Dad leaned back against the now-drapeless window and folded his arms over his chest. "Break a mirror, Sophie."
"What what, my head? Because I'm pretty sure that'd be corporal punishment, and Mom would not be cool with that."
"With your powers."
Ugh.I took in the dozens of mirros and muttered, "I think I'd rather use my head. — Rachel Hawkins

Rushing outside, she carries long, sharp scissors and snips at flower petals while screaming, "Off with your head!" When I realize what she's really after, a strange discomfort stirs inside. I've seen how the petals tatter beneath the blades. I don't want her to ruin my moth's pretty wings. I throw my hands over the scissors to stop her. The moth escapes unscathed. But I'm not so lucky ...
Coming out of the trance, I drop to the ground and clutch aching palms to my chest. The scars throb as if freshly cut. Morpheus bows over me, smoothing my hair. "I told you that you were special, Alyssa," he murmurs, the weight of his palm strangely comforting on the top of my head. "No one else has ever bled for me. The loyalty of one child for another is immeasurable. You believed in me, shared new experiences with me, grew with me. That has earned you my sincerest devotion." — A.G. Howard

He knew he would never be alone, never suffer unnecessarily. At home in bed a few weeks before he died, I asked him, "Can you breathe okay with my head on your chest like this?" His answer was "It's the only way I know how to breathe." That Paul and I formed part of the deep meaning of each other's lives is one of the greatest blessings that has ever come to me. — Paul Kalanithi

She snuggled back under the blanket with me, turned toward me so that she could rest her head on my chest. "I hear your heart," she said.
"Do you check every once in a while, just to make sure I'm not undead? — Richelle Mead

Hello, Harry, dear. I suppose you've heard our exciting news?" She pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy's chest. "Second Head Boy in the family!" she said, swelling with pride. "And last," Fred muttered under his breath. "I don't doubt that," said Mrs. Weasley, frowning suddenly. "I notice they haven't made you two prefects." "What do we want to be prefects for?" said George, looking revolted at the very idea. "It'd take all the fun out of life." Ginny giggled. "You want to set a better example for your sister!" snapped Mrs. Weasley. — J.K. Rowling

(Honor)"You had told me that if you didn't return within a few minutes of ten o'clock, I was to drive away and get as far from Tambour as possible. So, for all you knew, that's what I had done. After nearly dying in that explosion, with a burn on your shoulder, and your hair singed, you could have run in any given direction in order to get away, but you didn't. When you found me on the railroad tracks, you were racing back to the garage. To me."
He didn't say anything, but his jaw tensed.
She smiled and moved closer to him, aligning her body along his. "You don't have to give me flowers, Coburn. You don't even have to hold me." She laid her head on his chest just below his chin. Her hand curved around his neck. "Let me hold you. — Sandra Brown

I want your hands on my head."
I nod and edge back to make room for him. "Does it calm your racing thoughts?"
He shakes his head, then takes my hand and spreads it open over his wide chest, his voice textured as he traps my gaze with his. "It calms me here. — Katy Evans

And so he came at last to the high seat of Guslav the fifth, High King of the Union. His head was slumped sideways, squashed down under the sparkling crown. His pasty pale fingers twitched on his crimson silk mantle like white slugs. His eyes were closed, chest rising and falling gently, accompanied by gentle splutterings as spittle issued from his slack lips and ran down his chin, joining the sweat on his bulging jowls and helping it to turn his high collar dark with wet. Truly, Jezal was in the presence of greatness. "Your — Joe Abercrombie

Why did you pull the arrow out?" she demanded, pulling her sweater over her head. She had a tank top on under it. She patted his chest and side with the sweater, absorbing as much of the blood as she could.

Jules's breath was coming in harsh pants. "Because when someone - shoots you with an arrow - " he gasped, "your immediate response is not - 'Thanks for the arrow, I think I'll keep it for a while.'"

"Good to know your sense of humor is intact. — Cassandra Clare

You have that look on your face," Alessandro said, smiling as he tucked a damp lock of her blonde hair behind her ear. "What look?" Bree asked, resting a hand on his flushed chest, propping herself up on one elbow. She could feel the racing
heart beneath. "The look of a woman who's been rather well fucked, darling," he grinned smugly. She punched his chest lightly. "Ego much?" "I see nothing wrong with taking pride in a job well done," he pointed out. "Oh of course," Bree said, laughing and dropped her head on his chest. — E. Jamie

Eve, we're here. Shall I carry you?" She sat up slowly, her hand going to her forehead. "I can walk." Or she'd crawl, or expire of pride in the filth of the mews before she'd allow him to assist her where others might notice. He handed her out of the carriage, and any fool could see she was none too steady on her feet. "You can ring a peal over my head later, my lady." "Deene, no." Such a weak protest wasn't going to deter him from scooping her up against his chest and proceeding toward the house. "For once in your stubborn life, hush. Your brothers would expect this much of me." The — Grace Burrowes

I tasted the salt on my own lips, and the bitter taste of blood on his. It was a desperate kiss, the sort of kiss that marks a lovers' parting, a kiss of sorrow and regret and a kind of blind and wordless promise. I would have risen up when it was finished, but he held me close, his hand stroking my hair. "I'll hurt your chest," I protested, but he shook his head. "I am past pain," he lied, "and I've always had a fancy to die in my lover's arms. 'Tis most romantic. — Susanna Kearsley

Imagine someone reaching straight into your chest, past the bones and blood and guts, and taking a nice firm hold on your spinal cord. Now imagine that they start shaking you so fast, the world starts bulging and buckling under you. Imagine not being able to figure out later if the thought in your head is really yours or an unintentional keepsake from someone else's mind. Imagine the guilt of knowing you saw someone's deepest, darkest fear or secret ... — Alexandra Bracken

Ugh. You're being ... you."
"Was that in English?"
"This is all your fault."
"Nope. Definitely not English."
"You're being all hot and sexy, dammit," she said. She banged her head on his chest a few times. "And I can't seem to ... not notice said hotness and sexiness. — Jill Shalvis

Fig leaned in close, his chest pressed to her back, his palm flat on her belly. "Time to muster up some moxie, Roxie," he whispered. "Every woman in this bar is wishing she had a body as gorgeous as yours, and every man is wishing he had your long, beautiful legs clamped around his butt."
Roxie relaxed. Smiled even. "Does that include you?" [...]
"Nah." [...] "My wish involves them wrapped around my head. — Wendy S. Marcus

And everyone is always saying that marriage is really hard and takes a lot of work. But the thing is, when you know that you love someone, those things don't matter. You have to push all the everyday things and the outside world away, and just enjoy knowing that this is the man who has the chest your head is meant to lie on. — Erin McCarthy

I'm putting all my drama on you again."
He hung his head. "Yeah, you are."
"I'm so sorry."
... "On the plus side, when you get worked up your tits start heaving up and down with each breath. Magnificent. Honestly, I can't get enough of it." Little lines appeared on his forehead as his hands demonstrated the apparently bouncy-boob-like motions in front of his chest. "I'm tempted just to say shit to get you started, I love it so much."
In the face of his broad grin, I had nothing. — Kylie Scott

He woke up alone. Lilah had rocked his world once, twice ... he leaned over the bed to county empty condom wrappers.. three times, and then she'd
Walked off before dawn.
That was usually his role. "My own fault," he told the mutt, who was sitting on his chest. "I was easy."
"Arf," the dog said in complete agreement, and licked Brady's chin.
"You're one to judge," Brady said in disgust. "If someone even thinks about petting you, you drop and expose your kibble and bits. No soldier worth his salt does that. "You're like a damn dog."
"Arf."
"Okay, good point," he said, shaking his head. "You are a dog. And so, apparently, am I. — Jill Shalvis

As she relaxed against his chest, he pulled her in closer. Turning her face into his shirt, she breathed in the calming scent that was him. "I'm sorry," she mumbled into the fabric.
One big hand stroked over her head, down her long ponytail to rub her back in soothing circles. "No, I'm sorry. You've told me before it made you uncomfortable and I pushed. That was an asshole move. You're entitled to your feelings and I shouldn't fight against them. I'm sorry." He dropped a kiss on her temple.
And with that little apology, she stepped off the cliff of denial and fell headfirst into love with Brett Wallace. — Jeanette Murray

Look at this fog. The damp gets right into your bones. It's doing my chest no good at all. I'll need a vapour bath." Bryant pulled down his scarf and peered over the sodden hedge. Dew had formed on his bald head and ears. He resembled a minor Tolkien character.
"You're getting old before your time," warned May. "I can't imagine what you'll look like in your eighties."
"I'm ageing gracefully, which means not trying to look like a member of Concrete Blimp."
"I assume you mean Led Zeppelin ... — Christopher Fowler

A knock sounds on the door.
"Who is it?" Matt yells, exasperated.
"Your father."
"What do you want?"
"Can you mow the lawn tomorrow after church?"
"Daaaaaaaad." Matt's shaking his head and laughing. My mouth has dropped open. "Couldn't you have waited until after Kate goes home to ask me?"
"I didn't want to forget," Mr. Brown says from behind the door.
Matt whispers to me, "This is his way of saying we shouldn't be in here alone together."
I nod.
Matt yells to his dad, "Fine, I'll mow the lawn. Now go away."
I smack his chest.
"What?" Matt asks, clutching my hands so I can't hit him again.
"You shouldn't treat your dad that way."
"I like her," Mr. Brown says from out in the hallway.
"Daaaaadd, stop eavesdropping!" Matt jumps to his feet and grabs his keys from the nightstand. "That's it, I'm taking you home. We'll never find any peace around here."
I can't stop laughing. — Miranda Kenneally

She buried her face against his chest, solid and broad, allowing herself this moment to fully lean on him, take some of the strength he readily offered. "I don't regret my choice," she said, her voice muffled as she pressed herself tight. "If I had to, I'd make the exact same decisions. But it hurts so damned much."
"Give me your pain, love," he said holding her against the steady beat of his heart. "Let me take it for you."
She shook her head. "No, the pain is mine to bear. I need it." She took a ragged breath. "To make me stronger. — Zoe Archer