Quotes from Sherry Thomas

He kissed her on her ear, a kiss with the barest hint of moisture to it. She could not breath for the electricity of it, a violent spark of pleasure that shook and scarred. His fingers caressed her shoulders. His lips pressed into her exposed nape. Dark, hot sensations spiked into her.

His climax began gathering again, rising toward a point of no return. He didn't know if he could restrain himself this time: He was too close, too near to being overwhelmed. She cried out, trembling exclamations. He lost all control, his release hot, violent, and endless.

Her silence wasn't simply distracted; there was something unnerving about it. He felt as if he stood on the prow of a ship, watching the captain scan the horizon for signs of impending disaster only the latter could recognize.

And in the depth of her eyes were all these years—seasons they'd known, paths they'd trod. Slowly he entered her again. Everything reflected in her gaze: shyness, yearning, ripples of pleasure. The pleasure turned fierce, then ferocious. He labored to draw breath. In the wash of her climax, she closed her eyes. He closed his own eyes and yielded to the moment.

I don't put up with your thorns. I like them.

His voice, however, was utterly velvety—if an upholstered wrecking ball could be called velvety. "I won't need to try, my dear. My touch will burn away his." She couldn't breathe. "You were always quiet in his bed," he went on, "but you won't be in mine. You will scream with pleasure—and you will do it again and again.

She understood the charges of profligacy and shallowness pelted at the Upper Ten Thousand, at those whose entire lives revolved around endless arrays of entertainment. But she also knew that for those on the inside, it was the only way they had been taught to live. Few, in the end, ever truly defied the way they were taught to live.

He was silent. She hoped she'd injured his feelings—assuming he had feelings to injure in the first place.

I won't bite, you know," he said. "I might lick, but I won't bite." "I don't want you to lick either." "I will lick only where you like, how is that?

The entire point of life was the ability to make one's own choices. Foreknowledge of anything—especially the circular kind, such as Kashkari's presence at Eton because he'd dreamed of it—was terribly limiting and ran counter to the concept of free will.

Are you sure? I might take it as permission to further push my company on you.

Only my anxiety is constant: When I hope, I'm anxious that my hopes will come to nothing; when I fear, I'm anxious that my fears will all come true.

Livia, on the other hand, actively preferred literary characters to real-life acquaintances: Tom Sawyer stayed forever young, Viola always retained her spunk, and Mr. Darcy could never turn out to be a hypocrite who was also disappointing in bed.

The buttons on her back gave way as if before a Mongol horde.

You know what I think about when I'm alone and you are far away?" he murmured. "I think about you, naked, under the sun." He licked her nipple. She whimpered. "Not the English sun, mind you, because it is never adequate. But the sun over the Arabian sea. Or the sun of the south of France. Light brilliant enough to shatter mirrors. And you, naked, in that light, your thighs open this wide—

Some things are not meant to be, Leighton Atwood had said the night before. But if they were not meant to be, then why did the forces of destiny keep bringing them together?

young people had a remarkable lack of interest in the lives of their elders, preferring them to be like the walls of a house: holding up the roof and keeping out the elements, but otherwise completely ignorable.

How can you help? If you will only . . ." He stopped. He had been trying, with no apparent success, to bridge the chasm between them. But that was not all he wanted, was it? No, he was far more ambitious than even he had realized. He wanted her to . . . "Fall in love with me." He heard, loud and clear, the words the truth serum compelled from him. "If you loved me, everything would be so much easier.

But you I want to see in all my moods. When I'm particularly pleased, when I'm simply going about my day, when I'm utterly overwhelmed, as I was yesterday and today. And it honors me that when I bring myself, I seem to have brought enough for you.

Some men's deaths left little besides unfulfilled obligations and the inconvenience of a corpse. The departure of others tore holes in the hearts of those who were fortunate enough to know them.

So . . . you want me to fall in love with you, while you play kissing games with another girl?

Humans, herself included, held no interest for her except as living machines, mind-bogglingly intricate, beautiful systems that somehow housed individuals not quite worthy of the miracle of their physical bodies.

She had managed to get to the truth of the matter in every case that had been entrusted to her. But truth had a vicious way of upsetting everything else on its way to the surface. And he was hard-pressed to say, as someone whose existence had been repeatedly convulsed by recent overdoses of truth, whether there had been anything satisfactory to the aftermaths.

All upon Earth is alterable,