Under Jaw Quotes & Sayings

A feral smile, and he grabbed her by the chin
not hard enough to hurt, but to get her to look at him. "First thing," he breathed, "we're not friends. I'm still training you, and that means you're still under my command." the flicker of hurt must have shown, because he leaned closer, his grip tightening on her jaw. "Second
whatever we are, whatever this is? I'm still figuring it out, too. So if I'm going to give you the space you deserve to sort yourself out, then you can damn well give it to me. — Sarah J. Maas

You didn't think I really liked you? Do you think I really like you now?"
He turned toward her, uncertainty in his face."You did go quite a lot of effort to be having this conversation, but ... I don't want to read too much of what I hope into that."
Val stretched out beside him, resting her head in the crook of his arm. "What do you hope?"
He pulled her close, hands careful not to touch her wounds as they wrapped around her. "I hope that you feel for me as I do for you," he said, his voice like a sigh against her throat.
And how is that?" she asked, her lips so close to his jaw that she could taste the salt of his skin when she moved them.
You carried my heart in your hands tonight," he said. "But I have felt as if you carried it long before that."
She smiled and let her eyes drift closed. They lay there together, under the bridge, city lights burning outside the windows like a sky full of falling stars, as they slid off into sleep — Holly Black

Hakan was a chieftain ready for battle. Fear, the haze of it like when the Danes had attacked her village, skittered across her skin.
"Break the fast with me," she pleaded softly.
He hooked a finger under her chin. "You've convinced me to do many things I've not done before." He looked at the trees where her loom sat idle. "Like spend a summer day in the shade, and now you want me to keep my ship, my men, waiting. What will you have me do next?"He paused as if drinking in the sight of her. He hadn't shaved, and his jaw bore several days' growth. She itched to know the feel of those blonde whiskers. Her lips parted with bold, unspoken invitation. — Gina Conkle

All governments lie, as I.F. Stone pointed out, including Israel and Hamas. But Israel engages in the kinds of jaw-dropping lies that characterize despotic and totalitarian regimes. It does not deform the truth; it inverts it. It routinely paints a picture for the outside world that is diametrically opposed to reality. And all of us reporters who have covered the occupied territories have run into Israel's Alice-in-Wonderland narratives, which we dutifully insert into our stories - required under the rules of American journalism - although we know they are untrue. — Chris Hedges

You said the demon's signature is faint. I may be able to heal her if she's been injured."
"Not in your present state, you said."
She scowled at him. "I won't let you back into my uncle's home."
"Then I can't protect you if the Baltimore demon comes for you."
She folded her arms.
Hunter's jaw tightened. "All right. I'll call you." He snorted under his breath. "You're a Kubiteron and I'm a Matusa. That means you're to obey me."
"You mean, 'You, Matusa, me, Kubiteron?' No way, Tarzan. Go beat on your chest before some other lesser demon."
Jared quickly hid a smile.
Hunter's face turned dark. She gave him a quirky smile, then vanished. — Terry Spear

But I'm afraid to sleep!" Whispered Trista. "What if I fall to pieces before I wake up? What if tomorrow I'm just a pile of leaves and sticks tucked under a blanket? What if this is the last time I've got left, and I waste it all being asleep, then wake up dead?"
For a moment Violet looked conflicted. Then her jaw set, and she took Trista by the shoulders.
"You won't," she said gently but firmly. "I'll make sure you don't. I'll be watching you sleep. And if your hair starts to turn into leaves, or anything like that, I'll wake you up."
"You promise?" Trista felt the icy, titanic force of her terror recede a step or two. "You ... you won't leave me when I sleep and go out?"
"I promise," said Violet, with a firmness in her tone that allowed no doubt. Her dark grey eyes were resolute as flint. — Frances Hardinge

Now don't go wandering off, William," she said with a meaningful glance. "I don't want to lose you in the crowd."
Will's jaw set. "I'm getting the oddest feeling that you're enjoying this," he said under his breath.
"Nothing odd about it." Feeling unbelievably bold, Tessa chucked him under the chin with the tip of her lace fan. "Simply behave yourself. — Cassandra Clare

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 stare at his forearms. I can make out a naked woman with a snake going up her vagina. She's holding a knife, slitting her own throat. There are three playing cards on the back of his right hand: the Queen of Spades, the Jack of Hearts and the Joker. Red flames lick his elbow.
There's a watch tattooed on his left wrist with 'Fuck Time' inscribed on its face. Fuck o'clock.
He's not that tall, but his body is carefully cut. The lines of his face, his cheekbones and jaw, are sharp and precise. I can see the tufts of his blond underarm hairs and under them the ladder of his ribs. He's beautiful, in the way that a knife is beautiful. — Kirsty Eagar

For the first time, I notice the lax skin at Mrs. Nightwing's jaw, the fine down that lies upon her cheek like the imprint of a childe's hand, and I wonder what it must be like watching yourself soften under the years, unable to stop it. what it's like measuring your days in perfecting girls' curtsies and drinking nightly glasses of sherry, trying to keep up with the world as it pulls you spinning into the furure, knowing you are always one step behind it. — Libba Bray

Talk to me." She shrugged. "Nothing to say." "You're strung tighter'n these wires." "You scared me, is all." He hooked a finger under her jaw, turning her face. "It's more'n that." She pulled away. "You haven't exactly been Mr. Easygoing lately either, you know." He was quiet so long she almost looked at him. Almost. In the quiet, she could feel her pulse throbbing in her neck. "Reckon you're right," he said. She could count on one hand the times she'd heard that from a man. One finger. "It's harder than I thought." "What is?" she asked, then pressed her lips together, suddenly sure she didn't want to know. "Loving you. — Denise Hunter

VIKRAM SHANKAR SQUINTED DOWN the long metal barrel. Framed squarely in the sight, not two hundred feet away, the white tiger sat on its haunches, its lower jaw drooping, ribs rippling under a mat of chocolate-striped fur. A sweet shot. Vikram's right finger closed over the trigger. He inhaled slowly, deliberately. Too seasoned a hunter to let the thrill overcome judgment, he took his time, savoring the anticipation. — Phoenix Sullivan

Leif's frown eased and he slid his finger under my chin and gently caressed my jaw line with the pad of his thumb.
"Pagan,will you do me the honor of being my date for Homecoming Dance?The prospect of not being able to hold you in my arms all night is heartbreaking."
Mirand sighed from across the table.
"Okay,that was beautiful.Why didn't you ask me like that?"she asked Wyatt.
Wyatt shot Leif an annoyed frown.
"Thanks,buddy.Next time you decide to break out your romantic side,could you do it alone? — Abbi Glines

Robart blinked, momentarily thrown off track, but recovered. "I will have my knight returned to me."
Knight? What knight? Oh shoot. I had completely forgotten about the vampire who'd almost chopped the police car in a half. I'd left him in the basement holding cell for almost four hours. I concentrated. The knight was alive and well. He was sitting on the floor meditating. I gave the floor a little push and felt it slide up, carrying the knight with it.
"You will find your knight in your quarters."
Robart nodded. His gaze narrowed. "Perhaps if you were less heavy-handed in your treatment of the guests you claim to honor and protect, your inn would have a higher rating."
He did not. Oh yes, yes he did. "Perhaps if you trained the knights under your command to follow simple orders, your House would've reached greater prominence within your empire."
Robart locked his jaw.
If my smile were any sweeter, you could pour it on pancakes and call it syrup. — Ilona Andrews

Mercy didn't get embarrassed easily, but her cheeks flamed now. Because if Riley knew she was in heat - like a freaking wild cat! - then so did the rest of her own pack. "So what, you followed me hoping I'd lower my standards and sleep with a wolf?" She intentionally made "wolf" sound about as appetizing as "reptile."
Riley's jaw tightened under a shadow of stubble a shade darker than the deep chestnut of his hair. "You want to claw at me, kitty-cat? Come on."
Her hands clenched. She really wasn't this much of a bitch. But goddamn Riley had a way of lighting her fuse. — Nalini Singh

I'm by myself," she said finally. "No family to speak of."
"I see." Leaning forward again, he rested his arms against the table. "That must be rather difficult."
"Sometimes."
"And lonely, I imagine. Perhaps that is why you came here tonight?"
Her jaw popped under the strain of maintaining decorum. "First: I said I was alone, not lonely. There's a big difference. And second: is that really why you think I'm here?"
"I do not know what to think. I know you must have reasons for being here other than what you have already hinted at. Reasons important enough to make an otherwise intelligent woman not only bring food to a stranger so late at night, but also accept his invitation to sit inside an empty motel room without a second thought."
"Why don't you just call me a hooker while you're at it? — Angela B. Wade

Hmm." He grins, and leans forward onto his knees. He presses his hands to the metal plate, framing my head with his arms, and kisses me, slowly, on my mouth, under my jaw, right above my collarbone. — Veronica Roth

It was long assumed that heart disease manifested the same in men and women. But Dr. Legato found that men may experience the classic symptoms of chest pain that radiates down the left arm. Women often have symptoms including shortness of breath, nausea or vomiting, and back or jaw pain. A gender-neutral approach left many women under-diagnosed and under-treated and as a result many women died needlessly. — Jed Diamond

Context is everything. Dress me up and see. I'm a carnival barker, an auctioneer, a downtown performance artist, a speaker in tongues, a senator drunk on filibuster. I've got Tourette's. My mouth won't quit, though mostly I whisper or subvocalize like I'm reading aloud, my Adam's apple bobbing, jaw muscle beating like a miniature heart under my cheek, the noise suppressed, the words escaping silently, mere ghosts of themselves, husks of empty breath and tone. — Jonathan Lethem

The two cards slithered towards him across the green sea. Like an octopus under a rock, Le Chiffre watched him from the other side of the table. Bond reached out a steady right hand and drew the cards towards him. Would it be the lift of the heart which a nine brings, or an eight brings? He fanned the two cards under the curtain of his hand. The muscles of his jaw rippled as he clenched his teeth. His whole body stiffened in a reflex of self-defence. He had two queens, two red queens. They looked roguishly back at him from the shadows. They were the worst. They were nothing. Zero. Baccarat. 'A card,' said Bond fighting to keep hopelessness out of his voice. He felt Le Chiffre's eyes boring into his brain. — Ian Fleming

One spring morning timing the lean near-liquid progress of a horse on a track, the dust exploding, the rapid hasping of his hocks, coming up the straight foreshortened and awobble and passing elongate and birdlike wish harsh breaths and slatted brisket heaving and the muscles sliding and brunching in clocklike flexion under the wet black hide and a gout of foam hung from the long jaw and then gone in a muted hoofclatter, the aging magistrate snapped his thumb from the keep of the stopwatch he held and palmed it into his waistcoat pocket and looking at nothing, nor child nor horse, said anent that simple comparison of rotary motions and in the oratory to which he was prone that they had witnessed a thing against which time would not prevail. — Cormac McCarthy

I never wanted this," said Bastian, crouching over him. He brought the paperweight down again, into the center of Mason's face, feeling the bridge of his nose fracture under the blow. "I never said yes." He lifted his arm and brought it down again and again, and closed his eyes as the red liquid splattered over his face, dousing him in warmth. "You never gave me the chance." He didn't stop until Mason's twitching limbs fell still and his breath creased to froth through his ruined jaw. — Lisa Henry

I didn't ask if he meant his rescue or the deal with Stalker that involved kissing. I couldn't resist pushing, just a little. "So it won't bother you if I find someone else?"
His jaw clenched, and I saw the muscle move before he got it under control. "I thought you said you'd fight for me."
"And /you/ said it's too late." I offered him a faint smile along with his watch. "So it's a good thing I don't intend to listen to you. — Ann Aguirre

You think my feelings toward you apathetic? You think you bore me?"
"Don't I?"
He shook his head slowly, continuing toward her, stalking her in the small space.
"No.God knows you are infuriating . And impulsive ... " Her back came up against the wall, and she gave a little squeak, even as he advanced. "And altogether maddening ... " He placed one hand to her jaw, carefully lifting her face to his, feeling the leap of her pulse under his fingertips. "And thoroughly intoxicating ... " The last came out on a low growl, and her lips parted, soft and pink and perfect.
He leaned close, his lips a fraction from hers.
"No ... you are not boring. — Sarah MacLean

The sounds of the battle raging about them were lost to Hannay. All he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears. He felt his face burn. The sergeant remained motionless, but Hannay noticed that he had clenched his jaw in anticipation of the strike. The lower lid on his left eye twitched under the tension in his jaw muscles. — Martin Marais

He obviously enjoyed her annoyance. He took his time and uncapped the bottle of water. Removed his ball cap. Dumped the water over his head.
Julianna's breath caught. Her body slammed into overdrive at the raw sexual scene before her. Water dripped from his thick blond hair and ran down his face. Over a carved jaw. Slid down to dampen perfectly cut lips.
His t-shirt soaked up the liquid and clung to his chest like a Women's Night gone wild. Hunger hit hard and deep as she followed the trail down to his belt buckle, where droplets slid under the denim and hid beyond. — Jennifer Probst

A little after moonrise Stephen woke. Extreme hunger had brought on cramps in his midriff again and he held his breath to let them pass: Jack was still sitting there, the tiller under his knee, the sheet in his hand, as though he had never moved, as though he were as immoveable as the Rock of Gibraltar and as unaffected by hunger, thirst, fatigue, or despondency. In this light he even looked rock-like, the moon picking out the salient of his nose and jaw and turning his broad shoulders and upper man into one massive block. He had in fact lost almost as much weight as a man can lose and live, and in the day his shrunken, bearded face with deep-sunk eyes was barely recognizable; but the moon showed the man unchanged. — Patrick O'Brian

I've always been unhappy with my teeth. I've lost most of them from my bottom jaw, and those in the upper jaw have been screwed in or capped. As a result, I've got great hollows under my cheeks, and my bone structure seems accentuated. — Kate O'Mara

Aw, angel," he said, shaking his head as he looked around. "I get you now."

He got me? What the heck was that supposed to mean? "What?"

"You know, my grandmother is a big gardener," he said, tucking the flat of cat food under one arm and running his hand over the back of my sofa.

"That's wonderful. Now get out of my apartment."

"She's won awards 'round here for her roses," he went on his weird speech. His attention suddenly turned back toward me, pinning me into place. "She used to tell me that the prettiest roses have the biggest thorns. It's a defense mechanism. So," he said, coming closer toward me and running his finger across the side of my jaw, "I get you, Amelia Alvarado. — Jessica Gadziala

It had been well if he had been left with only a wounded heart, but in that heart lay wounded pride. He hid it carefully, and the keener in consequence grew the sensitiveness, almost feminine, which no stranger could have suspected beneath the manner he wore. Under that bronzed countenance, with its firm-set mouth and powerful jaw--below that clear blue eye, and that upright easy carriage, lay a faithful heart haunted by a sense of wrong: he who is not perfect in forgiveness must be haunted thus; he only is free whose love for the human is so strong that he can pardon the individual sin; he alone can pray the prayer,"Forgive us our trespasses," out of a full heart. Forgiveness is the only cure of wrong. And hand in hand with Sense-of-injury walks ever the weak sister-demon Self-pity, so dear, so sweet to many--both of them the children of Philautos, not of Agape. — George MacDonald

Dallas traced her jaw and put the tip of his finger under her chin. I'm feeling possessive tonight, Lexie love, so here's your choice. I can untie you and we can have a little tease and cuddle ... or you can stand up and go into the bedroom. If you do that, I'm going to play with you until you think you can't take it anymore, and then I'm going to ride you so hard your legs won't work in the morning. Pick one. — Kit Rocha

I'd had a really bad day and you hurt me."
His hand at my jaw tensed and he kept whispering when he said, "I'll probably do it again, Red,
because I'm a man and any man can be a dick. But I won't do it like that, not again. I know you got soft
under that attitude and I'll have a mind to that. — Kristen Ashley

My method of equitation consists in distribution of weight by the height of the neck bent at the poll and not at the withers ; propulsion by means of the hocks being brought under the body; and lightness by the loosening of the lower jaw. When we know this, we know everything, and we know^ nothing. We know everything, because these principles are of universal application ; and we know nothing, because they have to be applied practically. — Anonymous

Avery latched on to his neck and stayed on him. All Kane could do was lean his head back feeling the bottles shift behind him, giving Avery full access to his jaw and ear. Kane heard himself groan when Avery's teeth nipped the soft skin under his ear. Avery ground his hips forward and Kane involuntarily met him thrust for grinding thrust. "Come home with me. No, fuck home. I want you right here." Kane couldn't think with the sexy low voice whispering across his ear. Avery's hands were on him, seeking, and he pulled Kane's shirt from his slacks and unbuckled his belt. He was surprised to find his own hands working himself free, not Avery's. Loud beeps stopped Kane in his tracks as the security code to the wine cellar was entered. — Kindle Alexander

Painted and smiling, I balance on my trapeze. Luka is poised ten metres away, his muscles shining under the lights. The wooden circles in his earlobes twitch as his jaw clenches, unclenches, clenches. — Kirsty Logan

Patches of hair stuck to his wet cheekbones. His ears were threaded with tiny little wampum earrings, except at the cartilage, where the rings were turquoise. His stubby nose ended abruptly at the bottom of a short bridge. His face tapered with a round chin, a white birthmark under his jaw. He was my favorite picture. He burned into the backs of my eyes. — Rose Christo

Hey, suit guy! The man bellowed.
Chris bit back the urge to yell. He turned, expecting to be confronted by a hand held out for money. What he saw was a pair of enormous eyes, the same color as the spring sky, set in a face with high cheekbones and a delicate chiseled jaw. The man's short, spiked hair was dyed a vibrant purple, making his creamy pale skin glow. Letting his gaze shift downward in a sudden still silence, Chris took in the sleek, sculpted muscles under the snug green t-shirt, the faded jeans molded to slim hips and thighs.
He'd never in his life's seen anyone so beautiful. — Ally Blue

He could sense her breathing, her temple against his jaw and her shoulder under his hand were warm, her hair smelt of well-brushed hair, he could feel the presence of her body ... — Kingsley Amis

This fucking city is full of nothing but thugs, money grubbing porn-bitches, and hustlers. I'm calling the police." Ex fumed as he struggled to pull his cell from his pocket.

If Syn weren't so damn angry it would've been funny as shit the way the man's jaw dropped when God and Day both pulled their gold badges out from under their shirts. Day smiled that sinister grin and kneeled in front of them, speaking in an official tone, "911, what is your emergency? — A.E. Via

I think that its out very differences that make us a perfect match," he said, and his jaw moved under his fingertips. "You'd die of boredom with Thomas within a year. If I found a lady with a temper similar to mine, we'd tear each other apart within months. You and I, though, we're like bread and butter."
She snorted. "That's romantic."
"Hush," he said, his voice quivering with laughter, but also with an undertone of gravity. She cradled his jaw as he said, "Bread and butter. The bread provides stability for the butter; the butter gives taste to the bread. Together they're perfect."
Her eye brows drew together. "I'm the bread, aren't I?"
"Sometimes." His voice was a thread of rumbled sound, low and ominous. She could feel his words as they drifted over her palm. "And sometimes I'm the bread and you're the butter. But we go together
you understand that, don't you? — Elizabeth Hoyt

Samuel Spade's jaw was long and bony, his chin a jutting v under the more flexible v of his mouth. His nostrils curved back to make another, smaller, v. His yellow-grey eyes were horizontal. The v motif was picked up again by thickish brows rising outward from twin creases above a hooked nose, and his pale brown hair grew down - from high flat temples - in a point on his forehead. He looked rather pleasantly like a blond satan. — Dashiell Hammett

At first Deanna guessed the person was a guy, a college kid whose jaw was still stubbornly smooth, but as the figure straightened Deanna caught the soft hint of breasts under the shirt. Suddenly she could see the thick frame of lashes around a pair of amber eyes, and the feminine curve to lips tugged into a wide and rueful grin. Deanna hastily tacked several years onto the stranger's age: not a kid at all, but someone closer to her own twenty-six. Deanna — Michelle Osgood

You can't cure people of their character,' she read.
After this he had crossed something out then gone on, 'You can't even change yourself. Experiments in that direction soon deteriorate into bitter, infuriated struggles. You haul yourself over the wall and glimpse new country. Good! You can never again be what you were! But even as you are congratulating yourself you discover tied to one leg the string of Christmas cards, gas bills, air letters and family snaps which will never allow you to be anyone else. A forty-year-old woman holds up a doll she has kept in a cardboard box under a bed since she was a child. She touches its clothes, which are falling to pieces; works tenderly its loose arm. The expression that trembles on the edge of realizing itself in the slackening muscles of her lips and jaw is indescribably sad. How are you to explain to her that she has lost nothing by living the intervening years of her life? How is she to explain that to you? — M. John Harrison

Her hair was hidden under a white headdress, like some kind of wimple; she wore a long white tunic and trousers, and her skin had the pale golden hue associated in our world with Orientals. The lines of her cheekbone and jaw reminded him of pictures he had seen of the head of Nefertiti, thought her neck was longer, slightly too long for an ordinary human, and as she turned toward him he realized the planes of her face were subtly different, though it would have been hard to explain in what way. A fraction of an inch here, a fraction of an inch there, and the whole visage was somehow distorted, though its beauty remained undiminished. — Amanda Hemingway

cartridge belts. Maybe wood smoke somewhere. Jacob was dark-eyed and pale. He had a young man's beard, only potential, the hint of black whiskers along his jaw looking like something black pressed under a thick pane of smoked glass. At one point he pulled off a glove with his teeth and left it dangling from his mouth as he, what? - opened a K ration? lit a cigarette? The condemned man's last. His bare hand was as white as bone, as small as a child's. — Alice McDermott

She wanted to remind him, whether his family was there or not. She wanted. And wanted. And endured in her wanting: the damp seat, the dry chicken, more champagne, the headache the champagne brought, the midges, the chat, his failure, no refusal, to look, look at me, I caused a thunderstorm with my passion and I sit here shaking under my skin and you don't notice because you're trying so hard not to notice, but all the people at the table there are really only you and me and you know it, the air is charged with it, it's a heat, a hot wind, and Marina and Seely are a sham next to it, Annabel ceases to exist, is simply obliterated in the gale of it, this isn't a fantasy, not my imagination, I can tell by the way you lift your fork, by the set of your jaw, by that sixth cigarette you are smoking me, or would if you could; but how long can we sustain it, how long till eruption, till the storm returns again and they can all see what it is, what it really is? — Claire Messud

I've seen ye so many times," he said, his voice whispering warm in my ear. "You've come to me so often. When I dreamed sometimes.When I lay in fever. When I was so afraid and so lonely I knew I must die. When I needed you, I would always see ye, smiling, with your hair curling up about your face. But ye never spoke. And ye never touched me."
"I can touch you now." I reached up and drew my hand gently down his temple, his ear, the cheek and jaw that I could see. My hand went to the nape of his neck, under the clubbed bronze hair, and he raised his head at last, and cupped his face between my hands, love glowing strong in the dark blue eyes.
"Dinna be afraid," he said softly, "There's the two of us now. — Diana Gabaldon

Think of it this way," he rubbed a fist under his square jaw, "If we hadn't been on the same flight or at the same hotel, you would've had no one to spill your drinks on. — Ophelia London

The first fellow was a bit too active, but the second was caught by the under-gardener, and only got away after a struggle. He was a middle-sized, strongly built man
square jaw, thick neck, moustache, a mask over his eyes." "That's rather vague," said Sherlock Holmes. "My, it might be a description of Watson!" "It's true," said the inspector, with amusement. "It might be a description of Watson. — Arthur Conan Doyle

I like dogs better than knights. A hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And he'll look you straight in the face." He cupped her under the jaw, raising her chin, his fingers pinching
her painfully. "And that's more than little birds can do, isn't it? I never got my song. — George R R Martin

Furi had a death grip on Syn's hip as he eased into his channel. He was so tight and hot around him that Furi had to clench his jaw to keep from crying out. "Baby. Baby you feel so good. Oh my god." Furi didn't stop until he was balls deep inside his boyfriend. Furi took one hand off Syn's hip, brought it up under his arm, and wrapped it around his chest, keeping their bodies sealed together. Furi used shallow pumps of his hips, not wanting to separate from Syn. "You — A.E. Via

Okay, maybe it wasn't some reason. He was handsome. Like, wow, that's a handsome guy, and then you nudge your friend and get her to take a look as well. That kind of handsome. Though I couldn't see him straight on, he had a nice, strong face, broad nose with a bump on the bridge, and just the right amount of stubble on his cheeks and jaw. His deep-set eyes looked rich brown, his longish, thick hair a shade darker than that and his brows even more so. I couldn't tell how tall he was, he was at least a few inches taller than I was, but his body was fit and lean. His stomach looked washboard flat under his white dress shirt and his forearms that peeked out from the rolled up sleeves were muscular, the same color as wet sand, a beach in the afternoon light. — Karina Halle

Lighter and lighter, until at last the sun touched the tops of the still trees, a poured the radiance over the hill. in the glow, the water of the chateau fountain seem to turn to blood, and the stone faces crimsond. the coral of the birds was loud and high, and, on the weather-beaten sill of the great window of the bed-chamber of monsieur the morquis, one little bird sang its sweetest song with all its might. at this,the nearest stone face seemed to stare amazed, and, with open mouthand dropped under-jaw, looked awe- stricken. — Charles Dickens

You have a freckle here," he whispered, sweeping his tongue over a spot just under my jaw. "It drives me crazy every time you 're above me. I just want to do this ... " The jentle draw of his mouth pushed me over the edge, and my knees tightened around his hips as i rocked against him. — Tammara Webber

Dev?" This time, she got a grunt. Smiling, she pressed her lips to his jaw, loving the roughness under her lips. "I like sex."
She saw the edge of a smile, and it made her own lips curve. "I really like it." Rubbing her heel over the back of his leg, she ran her hand down his muscled arm, wanting only to touch him. "When can we do it again?"
He sounded like he was chocking as he said, "You're not acting like a Psy."
"Maybe if they tried sex with you, the others would change their minds, too. — Nalini Singh