Quotes & Sayings About Long Lashes

It doesn't matter", he murmured against my skin. His fingers traced the cuts, healing the veins beneath them. "There's only one thing that does."
"What?" I whispered.
He looked at me through his long,, dark lashes, with my hands still in his. "Killing Jude. — Michelle Hodkin

There's only one thing you can say when you come up against magic like this, and Mitch waited a long moment in silence to find the right words, to make them good and true and real.

"Not tomorrow," he said. "Because it's Sunday and it's Christmas Day. And not Monday, because it's a federal holiday, but Tuesday. Will you marry me on Tuesday?"

She looked up and her lashes were wet as though she'd been crying too, dawning belief in her eyes. "Yes. — Jo Graham

The divorce papers remained unopened in the crisp yellow envelope. He had thrown it on his desk without a backward glance. Between his lashes, his dark chocolate eyes burned with fury but there was something else in the depths that she hadn't seen in a long time, passion. — Suzan Battah

The one product I can't live without is my mascara. I'm addicted to long eyelashes and think girls just look so pretty with long lashes! — Abbey Clancy

It did not take Bunch very long, amid the politicking and the revelry, to discover the darker side of life in Charleston's homes. "The frightful atrocities of slaveholding must be seen to be described," he wrote in a private letter that wound up prominently positioned in the official slave-trade correspondence of the Foreign Office. "My next-door neighbor, a lawyer of the first distinction and a member of the Southern Aristocracy, told me himself that he flogged all his own people - men and women - when they misbehaved. I hear also that he makes them strip, and after telling them that they were to consider it as a great condescension on his part to touch them, gives them a certain number of lashes with a cow-hide. The frightful evil of the system is that it debases the whole tone of society - for the people talk calmly of horrors which would not be mentioned in civilized society. It is literally no more to kill a slave than to shoot a dog. — Christopher Dickey

for she could never long endure any conversation of which she was not the chief subject. But she smiled when she spoke, consciously deepening her dimple and fluttering her bristly black lashes as swiftly as butterflies' wings. The boys were enchanted, as she had intended them to be, and they hastened to apologize for boring her. They thought none the less of her for her lack of interest. Indeed, they thought more. War was men's business, not ladies', and they took her attitude as evidence of her femininity. Having — Margaret Mitchell

I love your eyes, did you know that? I have never seen eyes as green as yours. They put the leaves of the Amazon Forest to shame. And your unbelievably long and dark lashes make them even more startling. — Cristiane Serruya

Bright green eyes peered at her from underneath long lashes that curled toward Saturn. Despite the so very pretty eyes, he had a strong face with sharp angles that cast shadows from the harsh overhead cargo light. A slight overbite gave the impression of a permanent pout. Dark curls tumbled lazily from his head to his shoulders.
In one word: gorgeous.
Another word: dangerous. — Aria Kane

His lips twitched, but didn't quite become a smile. "I love you. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I want to marry you, and yes, I want you to be my empress."
Cinder gaped at him for a long moment before she whispered, "That's a lot of wanting."
"You have no idea."
She lowered her lashes. "I might have some idea. — Marissa Meyer

Experience is a keen teacher; and long before you had mastered your A B C, or knew where the "white sails" of the Chesapeake were bound, you began, I see, to gauge the wretchedness of the slave, not by his hunger and want, not by his lashes and toil, but by the cruel and blighting death which gathers over his soul. — Frederick Douglass

He was so conspicuously, irrefutably good-looking, it was silly; it made you want to laugh. With his long legs and his broad shoulders, and the flatness of his belly where his shirt tucked into his trousers, and those dark eyes with the thick black lashes, he looked like a god compared to other Pagford men, who were so slack and pallid and porky. — J.K. Rowling

Then, despite all my better judgement, I asked the question I'd wanted to ask for nearly a year. "You and Mal, back in Kribirsk-"
"It happened."
I knew that and I knew there had been plenty of others before her, but it still stung. Zoya glanced at me, her long black lashes sparkling with rain. "But never since," she said grudgingly, "and it hasn't been for lack of trying. If a man can say no to me, that's something."
I rolled my eyes. Zoya poked me in the arm with one long finger. "He hasn't been with anyone, you idiot. Do you know what the girls back at the White Cathedral called him? Beznako"
A lost cause. — Leigh Bardugo

She would figure out how to get what she wanted, what she needed, even when her long lashes failed to convince, when her body was no longer young and beautiful. She'd be more than pretty, She'd be strong. — Kass Morgan

I looked at her and she looked at me and we weren't walking. We were just standing there, and her eyes were so interesting. Not in the usual way of being interesting, like the extremely blue or extremely big of flanked by obscenely long lashes or anything. What interested me about the Duke's eyes was the complexity of the color- she always said they looked like the bottom of trash-can bins, a swirl of green and brown and yellow but she was underselling herself she always undersold herself. Christ it was hard to unthink — John Green

The worst possible thing you can do when you're down in the dumps, tweaking, vaporous with victimized self-righteousness, or bored, is to take a walk with dying friends. They will ruin everything for you. First of all, friends like this may not even think of themselves as dying, although they clearly are, according to recent scans and gentle doctors' reports. But no, they see themselves as fully alive. They are living and doing as much as they can, as well as they can, for as long as they can. They ruin your multitasking high, the bath of agitation, rumination, and judgment you wallow in, without the decency to come out and just say anything. They bust you by being grateful for the day, while you are obsessed with how thin your lashes have become and how wide your bottom. — Anne Lamott

At one point I was introduced to a devastatingly handsome young man
beautiful, really
with black unruly hair, large sensitive eyes fringed by long dark lashes, a full sensuous mouth
and an irresistible personality. His name was Tony Curtis. — Janet Leigh

He looked up through long, wet lashes and narrowed crystal-blue eyes at her. With a final swipe of the towel to his head, he bunched it up in his fist.

The gray ball was sent hurling in the air, spiraled once, and hit her boss square in the face.

Jerry sputtered, and swatted away the offensive material.
Keane "Boom-Yay" O'Shea KNOCK OUT — Michele Mannon

Miranda was shocked to hear Nicholas speak of slavery in glowing terms, as an efficient agricultural system. This wasn't the South! Yet as she surveyed her employer's strong dark profile in secret from beneath her long lashes, she was forced to conclude that the role of master suited Nicholas Van Ryn perfectly. Even when she closed her eyes, the impression of cruelty and power remained. But it was herself she saw as the darky slave, stripped of her free will and trembling at her master's approach. — Anya Seton

How long have you been standing here?"
"Only a moment." I fluttered my lashes. I am as innocent as a baby bird, I tried to say with my eyes.
"Really." He spoke it as a statement, and frowned. "You know, eavesdropping is most unladylike."
My jaw dropped. "Eavesdropping? I was doing no such thing."
"No?"
"Certainly not, Mr. Wilcox. And false accusations are most un ... most un-manly-like." The retort was a stuttered failure, but I puffed out my chest anyway. "What were you doing outside?"
"Getting fresh air."
My eyebrows shot up as if to say "Really?" He squinted at me, and I glowered back. — Susan Dennard

A small hand slaps him. He opens his eyes for a moment. Against the glow of the sky, dark hair flutters in the breeze. Intense eyes fringed with long lashes. Lips so red the girl must have been biting them. It takes him a moment to realize she's the Daughter of Man who risked herself to help him. She's asking him something. Her voice is insistent but melodic. It's a good sound to die to. — Susan Ee

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

If he lies pressed against me, he gently twines his legs about mine and our legs are merged by the very soft cloth of our pajamas; he then takes great pains to find the right spot to cuddle his cheek. So long as he is not sleeping, I feel the quivering of his eyelids and upturned lashes against the very sensitive skin of my neck. If he feels a tickling in his nostrils, his laziness and drowsiness keep him from lifting his hand, so that in order to scratch himself he rubs his nose against my beard, thus giving me delicate little taps with his head, like a young calf sucking its mother. — Jean Genet

Her light brown eyes were the color of sherry, fringed with long, thick, gold-tipped lashes. — Anne Rivers Siddons

Isabella Swan?" He looked up at me through his impossibly long lashes, his golden eyes soft but, somehow, still scorching. "I promise to love you forever - every single day of forever. Will you marry me?"
There were many things I wanted to say, some of them not nice at all, and others more disgustingly gooey and romantic than he probably dreamed I was capable of. Rather than embarrass myself with either, I whispered, "Yes."
"Thank you," he said simply. He took my left hand and kissed each of my fingertips before he kissed the ring that was now mine. — Stephenie Meyer

For the first time, she studied Nick's face. Lowered eyelids hid his beautiful green eyes, making his long lashes stand out against his cheeks. He had the kind of fair skin that freckled and then tanned only after repeated days in the sun. His jaw rested on the violin. Without his hat, she noted his prominent cheekbones. The bump on his nose gave his face character, and she wondered how he'd broken it. — Debra Holland

[Howard's] eyes were open and very clear. I'd forgotten what a beautiful gray they were
illness and medicine had regularly glazed them over; now they were bright and attentive, and he was watching me, consciously, through long lashes. Lungs, heart may have stopped but the optic nerves were still sending messages to a brain which, those who should know tell us, does not immediately shut down. So we stared at each other at the end ... 'Can you hear me?' I asked him. 'I know you can see me.' Although there was no breath for speech, he now had a sort of wry wiseguy from the Bronx expression on his face which said clearly to me who knew all his expressions, 'So this is the big fucking deal everyone goes on about. — Gore Vidal

You are playing with fire, ma petite." The words were nearly unable to escape his strangled throat.
She glanced up at him, just once. A quick look from under the crescent of her long lashes. Teasing. Sexy. His innocent erotic. "I thought I was playing with you," she denied, her attention back on his fierce arousal. Her warm breath bathed him in heat, in temptation.
He threw back his head, his hands tightening in her thick mane of hair. His neck was arched, his eyes closed. "I think it is fair to say it is the same thing," he bit out between clenched teeth. — Christine Feehan

I always dreamed 'bout ridin' the big wheel," Mick added, looking down at his shoes with a plaintive expression. "But me mom needs all the money I c'n make." He glanced around at the others and then back at me. Those big brown eyes - with long black lashes that were going to make him a real heartbreaker in a few years - were all the more effective because they were still brimming with tears from the ear twist. "But it's okay, Miss Kate. I don' wanna make no trouble for you. — Rysa Walker

All evening long, real snow would fall from the ceiling to glitter on the lashes of dancing girls and ardent boys, but Neve and the Dreamer didn't linger.
They had other things to do: *all* of them. All the things, dreamed and undreamed, in the depth and breadth of the whole spinning world. — Laini Taylor

Ariya was tall and fine-boned, with large doe-eyes framed by long lashes. She moved about the one-story house with a self-possessed grace in her purple dress. We thought she would make a good model. She could sell anything but perfume, because she always had a smell: parsley, cilantro, chicken, goat, sour sop, shop cheese. — Jenelle Jack Pierre

We were just standing there, and her eyes were so interesting. Not in the usual way of being interesting, like being extremely blue or extremely big or flanked by obscenely long lashes or anything. — John Green

my mind continually tiptoed to Georgia on the other side of my wall. I could imagine upswept hair and long limbs spilling over the white porcelain of the tub, dark lashes on a smooth cheek, full lips softly parted, and I resisted the urge to start painting all the little details my mind readily supplied. If Vermeer could find beauty in cracks and stains, then I could only imagine what I could create from the pores of her skin. — Amy Harmon

She was a vision in a white gown her dark hair forming a hazy halo around her rosy heart-shaped face. Her long lashes fluttered to touch her cheeks and then her eyes opened fully in his direction. Her small round mouth flexed in an immediate and knowing smile. That's the girl I'm going to marry Henry thought. — Anna Godbersen

Her eyes slid to Daniel. His fingers did a fast hunt-and-peck across the keyboard as his brows furrowed. The glow of the screen lit his face in the inadequately lit room. He had a nice profile. Long dark lashes that swept up and down as he typed, the perfect sized nose, a strong jaw, freshly shaven. His lips were nice too. Gently rounded peaks, set far apart. His lower lip was generous. Good kissing lips. He pursed them now. Jade jerked her eyes away. What are you doing, Jade? That's Daniel. She'd never noticed his nose or his long lashes, to say nothing of his lips - or had thoughts of kissing them. It was the hormones. They were doing weird things to her. Making her think crazy thoughts. Thoughts — Denise Hunter

Okay. I've got a good one." Simon stroked Isabelle's hair feeling her lashes flutter against his neck as she closed her eyes. "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. — Cassandra Clare

Watching the crackling fire, relishing the trusting weight of her head on his shoulder, Cam stroked her hair as it streamed over his arm. She slept heavily, while the fire pitched shadows from her long lashes across her cheeks. Cam looked over her with a lover's vigilance, absorbing every detail, the feathery edge of her hairline, the neat slope of her nose, the small ears. He wanted to nibble at her ears, play with her, but he would do nothing to disturb her sleep.
He pulled a quilt higher over her snowy shoulder, stroked back a curl that had looped over her ear. Everything had changed, he thought. And there was no turning back. — Lisa Kleypas

Seeing him on his knees in front of me, feeling his mouth on me, it's so unexpected and hot. My hands stay in his hair, pulling gently as I try to quiet my too loud breathing. He gazes up at me through impossibly long lashes, his eyes scorching smoky gray. — E.L. James

Nervousness from earlier surged back into me. Goodness. He was honey poured over an athletic body. Short, sandy-blond curls outlined his face, which boasted full lips, high cheek bones, and long lashes that any woman would envy. Even with those soft features, his face appeared hard and sculpted by an artist. — Kenya Wright

Morpheus stops in his tracks. I have his full attention. "So, you manipulated us both with one vow." His long black lashes tremble, and admiration shimmers behind his wounded gaze - the same look I've received throughout my life each time I please him. Although the dark, angry crimson of his blinking jewels belies any true pleasure. "Bitterest irony. It would appear I trained you too well - " — A.G. Howard

Keesha looked at me for a long time. "I did leave you alone. We all did. But you didn't get better. You didn't stop. You're still doin' all your weird shit. And I think it's time to stop."
"You think it's time to stop!" I exploded, and lunged at her with my hands outstretched. I pushed her real hard. She almost fell down. "I don't care what time you think it is!" I screamed. "Do you think I want to do this! Do you think I like it?"
"You pushed me!"
"Yeah. So what?"
"You're so afraid of being interrupted that you pushed me!"
"I'm not scared of being interrupted, you jerk! I'm ... I'm scared ... I'm scared of being." I crumpled into a ball and sat down where I was standing. I sat on a crack. Unevenly.
"Who are you anymore, Tara?"
Tears spilled over my frozen lashes and disappeared across my cheekbones. I had never felt so defeated. "I don't know. — Terry Spencer Hesser

Annabel was, like the writer, of mixed parentage: half-English, half-Dutch, in her case. I remember her features far less distinctly today than I did a few years ago, before I knew Lolita. There are two kinds of visual memory: one when you skillfully recreate an image in the laboratory of your mind, with your eyes open (and then I see Annabel in such general terms as: "honey-colored skin," "thin arms," "brown bobbed hair," "long lashes," "big bright mouth"); and the other when you instantly evoke, with shut eyes, on the dark innerside of your eyelids, the objective, absolutely optical replica of a beloved face, a little ghost in natural colors (and this is how I see Lolita). — Vladimir Nabokov

Daisy Bowman, Lillian's young sister, had an out-sized personality that belied her small, slight frame. Idealistic and possessed of a decidedly whimsical bent, she devoured romantic novels populated with rogues and villains. However, Daisy's elfin facade concealed a shrewd intelligence that most people tended to overlook. She was fair-skinned and dark-haired, with eyes the color of spiced gingerbread... mischievous eyes with long, spiky lashes. — Lisa Kleypas

My litter sister looks up at me.
Mom was right. Her eyes are the same as they've always been. Brown eyes fringed with long lashes and steeped with the memory of sweetness and light, laughter and joy - trapped in this mangled corpse-like face.
"It's all right, baby girl," I whisper into her hair as I hug her. "I'm here. I came for you."
Her face crumples and her eyes shine. "You came for me."
I stroke her hair. It's as silky as ever. — Susan Ee

You're asking for trouble, woman." At the gruff tone of his voice, I raised my head and met his dark, chocolate-brown eyes, rimmed by long lashes that didn't take an ounce away from his masculinity. I wanted to drown in those eyes.
"I like trouble, remember? — Suzanne Johnson

Hey. Do you want a cracker?" a velvet voice asked me.
I didn't look up, I wasn't sure if he was even talking to me. Why would an attractive senior be talking to me?
"Hey, I'm talking to you," he said, a chuckle in his voice.
I slowly lifted my head peering at him from under my long lashes. His dark brown hair swept across his forehead, and his deep blue eyes made me gasp. He wore the ultimate laid back style, a white t-shirt and jeans. All he needed was a black leather jacket, and he would be the bad boy from my book. The smile on his face was breathtaking and I found myself unable to speak. — Felicia Tatum

I'll never leave you. I'll never mistreat you. I think you know that by now. Try with me. Let us find what we
may find."
"What do you expect to find, Robert?"
"How should I know? I've never experienced anything like this before in my life."
Tears shone briefly under her graceful long lashes before she blinked them away and glanced at him
again with a reluctant twist of a smile. Sitting up, she wrapped her arms around her bent knees and
sighed. "You are asking us both to set ourselves up for great hurt when it comes time for me to leave."
"Leave? Don't speak of leaving, angel. You must stay forever."
"As your mistress."
"As my love," he countered insistently. — Gaelen Foley

The cashier had long since left for home. By now she was probably bustling by an unmade bed that was waiting in her small room like a boat to carry her off to the black lagoons of sleep, into the complicated world of dreams. The person sitting in the box office was only a wraith, an illusory phantom looking with tired, heavily made-up eyes at the empyiness of light, fluttering her lashes thoughtlessly to disperse the golden dust of drowsiness scattered by the elctric bulbs. — Bruno Schulz

Angrily, I concentrated on her flaws, willfully studying the photographs that caught her at awkward ages and less flattering angles - long nose, thin cheeks, her eyes (despite their heartbreaking color) naked-looking with their pale lashes - Huck-Finn plain. Yet all these aspects were - to me - so tender and particular they moved to despair. — Donna Tartt

I use Maybelline New York Great Lash Mascara. Thanks to my mother, I have really long lashes, so I've never had to use too much product. I've used this mascara since I was 15, and it's the only one I use. A lot of people think I wear extensions, but nope, I just apply lots of mascara because it's the one thing that makes me feel pretty! — Brittany Snow

Sometimes you stand under the hot gush for so long, looking at your body, counting every bruise. Touching every tender place. Watching the swirl at your feet, the glitter spinning. Like a mermaid shedding her scales.
You're really just trying to get your heart to slow down.
You think, This is my body, and I can make it do things. I can make it spin, flip, fly.
After, you stand in front of the steaming mirror, the fuchsia streaks gone, the lashes unsparkled. And it's just you there, and you look like no one you've ever seen before. You don't look like anybody at all. — Megan Abbott

I'd like to be better," Jared said abruptly. "I'd like to be better, to you. I want to make things better for you."

"That would be nice," said Kami. "However, you could not have faced down the sorcerer with me today."

"Why not?" Jared asked, and looked at her under his lashes. "As long as I was with you, and I hadn't run off to do something suicidal on my own. As long as we were together, wouldn't that be better?"

"Usually yes, today no," Kami told him. "Because it was in a ladies' bathroom, and that would be scandalous — Sarah Rees Brennan

His lashes were long and thick, so dark they seemed charcoaled; she half expected them to leave a dusting of black powder on the tops of his cheek-bones when he blinked. — Cassandra Clare

Sleep, honey. We can play later." And if she hadn't seen it with her own tired eyes, she never would've believed it. Like the snuffing of a candle, he was asleep in seconds. Burning red hot one moment, a ghost of dissipating smoke the next.

Hope inventoried his unguarded face, softer and so much younger in sleep, his enviably long lashes hiding the ever present jadedness. Fatigue pulled at her and she fought it, forcing her eyes open when they drifted shut.

"I'm not gonna fall in love with you, Beck. I'm gonna leave you in August."

She whispered the vow to a man in deep sleep. To a room cast in shadow. To a house steeped in tradition. To a woman mired in denial.

Sleep took her quickly, quicker than she wanted, and with it came the mocking sound of her surely spoken promise, echoing in her dreams like a school yard taunt. — Jodi Watters

When I finally finished the 'Two Suns' tour, which went on for quite a long time, I felt like a bit of a husk. And I remember thinking, 'I need to spend some time in one place, and just be at home.' So I guess the first year of that three and a half years was spent just trying to kind of get back to normal again. — Bat For Lashes

I'm like the weather, never really can predict when this rain cloud's gonna burst; when it's the high or it's the low, when you might need a light jacket.
Sometimes I'm the slush that sticks to the bottom of your work pants, but I can easily be the melting snowflakes clinging to your long lashes.
I know that some people like:
sunny and seventy-five,
sunny and seventy-five,
sunny and seventy-five,
but you take me as I am and never
forget to pack an umbrella. — Naomi Shihab Nye

He looks at me, puzzled. "What's a romance?"
"A love story." I can feel my face going red again. What is it with this man and the way he affects me? "You know, boy meets girl and they're attracted to each other."
He fixes me with a long stare, then lowers his lashes and bites his lip. I swallow hard. "I'll go and fix lunch. — Michelle Abbott

I've hidden behind my hair more than clothes. Sometimes having long hair with a fringe is very useful when you don't want to look at people. I used to have very short hair, but long hair is my thing - a black nocturnal shield. — Bat For Lashes

Carefully she took hold of the chain dangling from it, the jade pendant he had given her so long ago. The inscription on the back still gleamed as if new:
When two people are at one in their most inmost hearts, they shatter even the strength of iron or bronze.
"You remember, that you left it with me?" she said. "I've never taken it off."
He closed his eyes. His lashes lay against his cheeks, long and fine. "All these years," he said, and his voice was a low whisper, and it was not the voice of the boy he had been once, but it was still a voice she loved. "All these years, you wore it? I never knew. — Cassandra Clare

You are the sweetest man, Savannah inserted softly, her voice brushing at him. Echoing.
Gregori frowned. Echoing? Close. He swung around, cursing in French, an eloquent dissertation that had Gary cringing. Savannah,however, simply took Gregori's arm and smiled up at him, the stars in her eyes dancing. She was like that.Distracting him and then slamming him sideways with her smile. With her blue-violet eyes with their accursed star centers. She didn't even have the decency to look repentant.
Don't be angry, Gregori.I was lonesome in the house all by myself. Are you really,really angry? Or just a little angry? Her voice was soft, a siren's whisper, made of silk sheets and candlelight. Her long lashes were thick and heavy, a sweep of magic that caught his eye and held it there.
It is impossible for you to be lonely when you are always running around in my head. — Christine Feehan

The morning sun danced on her hair, transforming the brown to gold and reddish glints. An errant sunbeam angled over her face, dusting her long lashes with light, accentuating the perfection of her nose, her cheekbones, and the beauty of her complexion. — Karen Ranney

Unable to resist any longer, he buried his fingers in the hair at the base of her neck and angled her face upward. He leaned forward and dropped soft little kisses onto her lips, starting at the corner and working his way across until she began to stir. Her lashes flittered. "Gid - ?" He smothered her question with his kiss. No longer playful, he took her mouth fully, holding nothing back. She was no longer Adelaide Proctor, governess. She was Adelaide Westcott, wife. His wife. It didn't take long for her to recover from her surprise. She clasped his shoulder for support and stretched toward him. His pulse surged, and when she finally pulled away, he refused to let her separate from him completely. He rested his forehead against hers and listened to their ragged breaths echoing in the quiet morning. "Feeling better today, are we?" Adelaide asked as she lowered her head back down to her pillow, her face a becoming shade of pink. Gideon grinned. "A little. — Karen Witemeyer

On the plus side, if he ever had to fight through a roomful of adolescent girls, he only needed to blink (his velvet brown eyes framed in embarassingly long lashes) a few times, and they would all faint. — Ilona Andrews

Nature was cruel that way; giving long, dark lashes to boys who didn't appreciate them. — Mia Sheridan

You're going to hurt yourself."
She worked up a few tears, letting them glisten on her long dark lashes. "You're hurting me."
"Not yet," Trace told her, unmoved by the false show of emotion. "But the idea of putting you over my knee gets more tempting by the second. — Lori Foster