Neck That Leans Quotes & Sayings

He skims his fingers across my neck to move aside my long braid, and I try not to remember the protective look on his face from earlier or notice his earthy scent or the way my rib cage squirms as he leans in, like I've got a trapped butterfly in there. — Mary Weber

I didn't think you were real for a long time," I confess. "I thought you were someone I'd dreamed up."
"A dream worth reliving every night for ten years?" he asks, chuckling and slowly loosening his hold.
"For eternity," I whisper, winding my arms around his neck to keep him close.
"Good." He leans down and brushes his lips against mine. "That is exactly how long I plan on keeping you. — Erica Cameron

It's quite the game you're playing, Charlie." I shouldn't ask. I shouldn't. Don't ask. Don't . . . "And do you like playing it?" I'm surprised he even heard me, what with my voice as low as it is. But he must have - that or he read my lips, where his focus is locked right now - because he steps in closer, until our chests are almost touching but aren't. I hold the air in my lungs as he leans in toward my ear, his warm breath skating along my neck. "Yes, I do. Too much. — K.A. Tucker

I stop crying for a moment when light from the street steals into my bedroom as Silas gently pushes the curtain aside. He leans against the wall, arms folded across his bare chest and hair falling in front of his eyes. Almost silently, he moves to the tiny space between my bed and the wall and lowers himself to the floor. Raising his knees to his chest, he drops his head and reaches for my hand, running his thumb across my knuckles silently.
I slide off the bed, sheets wrapped around my legs, and ease into his lap, tucking my face against his neck. He cradles me against him like he's afraid to let me go. I know I should shy away, that I should climb back into my bed out of loyalty to my sister. But there's something that locks me in place, something that won't let me stray from the gentle rise and fall of his chest or from his arms, supporting me like I'm something precious as his lips brush across my forehead.
Without speaking, we finally fall asleep. — Jackson Pearce

You think my first instinct is to protect you. Because you're small, or a girl, or a Stiff. But you're wrong."
He leans his face close to mine and wraps his fingers around my chin. His hand smells like metal. When was the last time he held a gun, or a knife? My skin tingles at the point of contact, like he's transmitting electricity through his skin.
"My first instinct is to push you until you break, just to see how hard I have to press." he says, his fingers squeezing at the word break. My body tenses at the edge in his voice, so I am coiled as tight as a spring, and I forget to breathe.
His dark eyes lifting to mine, he adds, "But I resist it."
"Why ... " I swallow hard. "Why is that your first instinct?"
"Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up. I've seen it. It's fascinating." He releases me but doesn't pull away, his hand grazing my jaw, my neck. "Sometimes I just want to see it again. Want to see you awake. — Veronica Roth

I reach for my bag, pulling out gum, but he quickly moves to me, sliding his hands up my neck to cup my face. "Don't." He leans close, sucking on my mouth the way he seems to like so much. "You taste like me. I taste like you." He bends, licking my tongue, my lips, my teeth. "I like this so much. Let it stay, just for a bit. — Christina Lauren

Birds are colder than animals that live on the earth, because they are not conceived in such intense and heated desire. Just as birds are lifted up into the air by their feathers and can remain wherever they wish, the soul in the body is elevated by thought and spreads its wings everywhere. — Jenny Offill

In a way, I envy the freedom artists have. Artists can push themselves beyond their limits, in pursuit of their ideas and their vision, even if they are inhabited by demons that can also play tricks on them. — Carine Roitfeld

This way," he murmurs and abruptly is inside me once more, but he doesn't start his usual punishing rhythm straight away. He leans over, releases my hands, and pulls me upright so I am practically sitting on him. His hands move up to my breasts, and he palms them both, tugging gently on my nipples. I groan, tossing my head back against his shoulder. He nuzzles my neck, biting down, as he flexes his hips, deliciously slowly, filling me again and again.
"Do you know how much you mean to me?" he breathes against my ear.
"No," I gasp.
He smiles against my neck, and his fingers curl around my jaw and throat, holding me fast for a moment. "Yes, you do. I'm not going to let you go." I groan as he picks up speed. "You are mine, Anastasia." "Yes, yours," I pant. "I take care of what's mine," he hisses and bites my ear. — E.L. James

I push my thigh against his. "Well, thank God."
"Thank God what?" he asks. His hand slowly rubs up and down the place where my shoulder meets my arm. It makes me good shiver.
"That I don't have a neck brace. It's hard to rock a neck brace, especially if we're still going to that dance."
He leans in and kisses my nose. "If anyone could do it, you could."
I tilt my head so our lips meet.
"Hormonal ones, I am right here. Me. The old lady otherwise known as your grandmother," Betty says.
"Sorry. He's just irresistible," I say, settling back against him.
"Well, try to resist the irresistible," Betty says knowingly as the truck bumps over a pothole. — Carrie Jones

When a Lady chooses to Change Her Mind,' said the Mouse with a touch of hauteur, 'a Gentleman would consider it no more than her Privilege, and not Badger Her About It. — Noel Langley

He spins us both, wrapping us in his wings until I'm dazed and giggling.
"I wanted to lift you above me and swing you in circles until we were both dizzy and laughing," he murmurs against my neck as we tumble to the ground, trapped beneath his tented wings.
My body aches on impact - but it's a delicious ache. I can hardly breathe with the weight of his ribs covering mine, with the scent of his tobacco surrounding me, smothering and intoxicating. The curve of his smiling mouth glides along my collarbone and I gasp at the velvety sensation. I force his head up so I can look at him ... break the spell.
He slips the bejeweled headband from my hair, sweeping stray strands from my face. The slickness of his gloves grazes my eye markings.
"I wanted to kiss your lips and share your breath," he says softly as he leans close. — A.G. Howard

You are no ordinary angel, Helena, he whispers as he leans in closer. Chills shoot through her spine and the hair on her neck, back, and arms tingle against her skin as her eyes widen. — Shanora Williams

I never saw movies I was in because my mom told me that would be prideful, being stuck on yourself. — Karolyn Grimes

The next second a great blast of hot light erupted over Toad and Jed, but they didn't stop. Toad was trying to punch every bit of Jed that he could reach. There was a great howling of fright and a heavy-booted foot nearly missed Toad's fingers. Jed knocked Toad off him and rose to his feet. He swung his foot back, readying to kick. With a roar, Hazel flew at Jed. Her sharp claws latched onto his back, piercing through the leather vest. Jed roared in pain. His hands scrabbled for Hazel, but she flew in the air, beating her wings against his face. With a bellow, he turned on his heel and raced out of the pub. — M.L. LeGette

That's it. Take your time." He leans back and his hand moves from my back to the nape of my neck. It feels strangely pleasant for him to knead the muscles around my shoulders while I slowly slide his shaft through my lips and suck the head of his cock. A strange impatience comes over me and I start moving faster, faster. Quentin grunts and his hips buck, and I can feel the tension in his stomach as I rest my head on him. I can feel him holding it in, but it's too much and he can't hold back the power of his own release. He fills my mouth — Abigail Graham

He leans against me and gives a gentle push. I resist curving my neck into that place on his shoulder. — Kimberly Russell

His lips come too close. "But I love you."
"No you don't."
His eyes close. He leans his forehead against mine. "You have no idea what you do to me."
"I hate you."
He shakes his head very slowly. Dips down. His nose brushes the nape of my neck and I stifle a horrified shiver that he misunderstands. His lips touch my skin and I actually whimper. "God, I'd love to just take a bite out of you. — Tahereh Mafi

Goals are only ever a guide; a winding, changing path. It's your heart that will really keep you on tack ... and nourished along the way. — Rasheed Ogunlaru

Many things they sawe with us as mathematicall instruments, sea compasses ... spring clocks that seemed to goe of themselves - and many other things we had - were so strange unto them, and so farre exceeded their capacities to comprehend the reason and meanes how they should be made and done, that they thought they were rather the workes of gods then men. — Thomas Harriot

Stop being an idiot; all that matters is growth. — Eric Schmidt

The way he's looking at me makes me feel all funny and hot, so I hand him the cotton wool.
"There. You can finish yourself off," I say, standing up.
I have to resist the urge to face palm when I see the size of his smile. Sometimes I think my brain might just be a gaping hole containing nothing but unconscious innuendo. — L. H. Cosway

His lips graze my neck as he leans in. Oooh, now I know you are trying to get fucked. But you have to know by now, I like to make you suffer for it. So you're going to wait a little longer before I give you my cock, Mia. — Nina G. Jones

I look at him dead-on. "I finally have a secret of my own. Not so fun being on the other side of one, is it?"
The slow burn of amusement warms his features. He leans in and whispers, "On the contrary, My Queen. I cannot imagine anything more delicious than peeling away your defenses, layer by layer, and baring your precious ... secret."
Heat climbs my chest and fills my neck and cheeks. It's beyond unsettling, how quickly he can shift between comforter and tormentor. — A.G. Howard

I make grilled cheeses for lunch, one for me, two for Will. We don't have any chips, but I find a far of pickles in the pantry.
"This is the best thing I've ever eaten." He pauses for a drink, staring at me over the rim of his glass of juice.
"It's the provolone," I say, swallowing my last bite.
"It's the chef."
I smile and look away.
We listen to music. Talk. Kiss until my flesh glimmers gold-red. Warms to the touch from the deep scald at my core. He stops to watch. Leans his face close to my neck and smells my skin. Like I'm something he might taste. He sweeps his hands along my arms ... making me burn hotter.
"Is this what it's like for other fire-breathers?" he asks, winks, holding my hand up in his broad palm. "Or is it just me and my magic hands? — Sophie Jordan

Some travellers tell us that an Indian had no name given him at first, but earned it, and his name was his fame; and among some tribes he acquired a new name with every new exploit. It is pitiful when a man bears a name for convenience merely, who has earned neither name nor fame — Henry David Thoreau

For a second his dark eyes are on mine, and he's quiet. Then he touches my face and leans in close, brushing my lips with his. The river roars and I feel its spray on my ankles. He grins and presses his mouth to mine. I tense up at first, unsure of myself, so when he pulls away, I'm sure I did something wrong, or badly. But he takes my face in his hands, his fingers strong against my skin, and kisses me again, firmer this time, more certain. I wrap an arm around him, sliding my hand up his neck and into his short hair. — Veronica Roth

It's your turn," she says.
Oh. I go still, wondering exactly what she has in mind. Inside, my body claps like a damn seal, but outside I'm suddenly too nervous to move. She leans forward and kisses under my ear. Ah, yes. That's nice. She kisses my neck and I reach for her hip, pulling her closer.
"My sweet little vixen."
She licks my earlobe, and a bolt of arousal forces me on top of her.
Anna is naked underneath me. All mine.
But she tsks and makes a little uh-uh-uuh sound, as if I've got it all wrong. — Wendy Higgins

I've missed you, he whispers softly. The air between them is electric as he leans in, gently brushing his lips against her neck. In the next room, the guests complain about the sudden increase in temperature. Fans are drawn from colorful bags, fluttering like tropical birds. — Erin Morgenstern

The mother condemned for a witch and burnt with dry
wood, and her children gazing on;
The hounded slave that flags in the race and leans by the
fence, blowing and covered with sweat,
The twinges that sting like needles his legs and neck,
The murderous buckshot and the bullets,
All these I feel or am. — Walt Whitman