Pressed Quotes

Bright lamplight bounced off golden varnished wood. The suddenly vivid colors of scarves, hats, hair and faces after the gray-green gloom they'd been immersed in all morning dazzled them. The solid warmth of the coal-fired range, dry and hot, pressed against them from the front as the lingering damp embedded in their backs brought forth a final, convulsive shiver. The sights and smells of rich food and aromatic coffee hit them, no longer just a hope in their hollow stomachs. This made them all as if drunk with good fortune and delighted them with sheer, physical pleasure. ~ Antonio Dias

We'll find your treasure. Shifting his head, he pressed ~ Stephanie Laurens

You're not dead," I whispered, focusing on that truth. I pressed against him. "I'm not dead." "Stay that way." He swept his thumb along my knuckles. "You got it. ~ Lori M. Lee

It was beautiful and rare, and you have every right to despise me."
She stood pressed to the wall, not moving.
"When you came in, I thought 'Send her away.' But I knew that if you went away, I'd run after you. I thought 'I won't say a word.' But I knew that you'd know it before you left. I love you. I know you'd think kindlier of me if I said that I hate you. ~ Ayn Rand

At thee seaside all is narrow horizontals, the world reduced to a few long straight lines pressed between earth and sky. ~ John Banville

So ... I feel in regard to this aged England ... pressed upon by transitions of trade and ... competing populations,-I see her not dispirited, not weak, but well remembering that she has seen dark days before;-indeed, with a kind of instinct that she sees a little better in a cloudy day, and that, in storm of battle and calamity, she has a secret vigor and a pulse like a cannon. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Awkwardly pressed up against him, the Princess seemed to take no notice of their proximity. In the dampness, though, her body heat was near palpable to Luke and he had to force himself to keep his attention on what he was doing. ~ Alan Dean Foster

Kiss me, Zach." I pressed up against him, cold and alone. I didn't want to fight. I wanted to be warm and safe again, "Kiss me. ~ Ally Carter

Wolf took Scarlet's hands into his, as tenderly as he would pick up an injured butterfly, and slid the band onto her finger. His voice was rough and wavering as he recited - "I, Ze'ev Kesley, do hereby claim you, Scarlet Benoit, as my wife and my Alpha. Forevermore, you will be my mate, my star, my beginning of everything." He smiled down at her, his eyes swimming with emotion. Scarlet returned the look, and though Wolf's expression teetered between proud and bashful, Scarlet's face contained nothing but joy. "You are the one. You have always been, and you will always be, the only one.
Scarlet took the second ring - a significantly larger version of the same unadorned band - and pressed it onto Wolf's finger. "I, Scarlet Benoit, do hereby claim you, Ze'ev Kesley, as my husband and my Alpha. Forevermore, you will be my mate, my star, my beginning of everything. You are the one. You have always been, and you will always be, the only one."
Wolf folded his hands around hers. From where she sat, Cinder could see that he was shaking.
Kai grinned. "By the power given to me by the people of Earth, under the laws of the Earthen Union and as witnessed by those gathered here today, I do now pronounce you husband and wife." He spread his hands in invitation. "You may kiss your - "
Wolf wrapped his arms around Scarlet's waist, lifting her off the floor, and kissed her before Kai could finish. Or maybe she kissed him. It seemed mutual, as her hands wound through his dis ~ Marissa Meyer

Men who shared the load at home seemed just as pressed for time as their wives, and torn between the demands of career and small children ... But the majority of men did not share the load at home. Some refused outright. Others refused more passively, often offering a loving shoulder to lean on, an understanding ear as their working wife faced the conflict they both saw as hers. ~ Arlie Russell Hochschild

She clung to him without even opening her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight as he sat back on the floor of the balcony. Her breath was coming hard. She pressed her cheek against his chest. His heart beat in her ear, thumping nearly as fast as her own. "You are safe now. I have you. You are safe." He held her even tighter. Avelina ~ Melanie Dickerson

He had never seen such eyes before, not even in the faces of soldiers unmanned in the midst of great carnage. Eyes like black mirrors, at once shallow and bottomless. He had the feeling that if he pressed his finger to one of those eyes, it would shatter and fall inward through a black cavern of grief and loss that could never be filled. ~ Greg Iles

Part of you liked him," Jack said, giving her an intent stare. "I could see it in your writing."
She smiled uncomfortably. "Well, in the realm of fantasy, I suppose I did. But certainly not in reality."
The hand behind her neck closed in a gentle but secure grip. "Then here is your birthday present, Amanda. A night of fantasy." He loomed over her, his head and broad shoulders obliterating the firelight as he bent to kiss her.
"Wait," Amanda said in a flash of panic, turning her head as Jack's mouth approached hers. His lips pressed on her cheek, a brush of intimate heat that astonished her. "Wait," she said again, her voice wobbling. Her face was turned full toward the fire, its yellow glow dazzling her eyes as she sought to avoid the stranger's exploring kisses. His mouth moved gently over her cheek and toward her ear, tickling the tiny wisps of hair just above it. ~ Lisa Kleypas

See what love does? It makes you weak. Kills you."
Warm breath feathered over her scalp as Remy pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "It also gives people something to live for," he whispered. ~ Sydney Croft

In passing however I must say of one thing that has pressed upon me lately and encreased my Humility and capability of submission and that is this truth - Men of Genius are great as certain ethereal Chemicals operating on the Mass of neutral intellect - but they have not any individuality, any determined Character - I would call the top and head of those who have a proper self Men of Power. ~ John Keats

There was someone in his little attic room. Geralt knew it before he even reached the door, sensing it through the barely perceptible vibration of his medallion. He blew out the oil lamp which had lit his path up the stairs, pulled the dagger from his boot, slipped it into the back of his belt and pressed the door handle. The room was dark. But not for a witcher. He was deliberately slow in crossing the threshold; he closed the door behind him carefully. The next second he dived at the person sitting on his bed, crushed them into the linen, forced his forearm under their chin and reached for his dagger. He didn't pull it out. Something wasn't right. "Not a bad start," she said in a muffled voice, lying motionless beneath him. "I expected something like this, but I didn't think we'd both be in bed so quickly. Take your hand from my throat please." "It's ~ Andrzej Sapkowski

As luck would have it, Caleb appeared at supper that night. His uniform had been shaken out and pressed, and his butterscotch hair gleamed with cleanliness. He brought Cuban cigars for Rupert and a delicate china figurine for Lily. She looked at him in bewilderment, and he smiled at her as though there had been no disagreement at the front gate only a few hours earlier. ~ Linda Lael Miller

She chose books because they never left her lonely the way that Kirk had left her lonely. BEcause company was often nothing of the kind, whereas a good book always was.
She chose books for the smell of fresh-pressed pages, for the yellow-brown musk of library mould, but always for the breathy kiss of paper rustling. She chose books because some of the held prose that made her weep, or poetry that winded her, and words that mae her heart skip beats.
She chose books because some came readey-made with characters that seemed like perfect versions of hrself, all of them little proofs that somehow, somewhere, it might just be possible for her to be better: to be popular, powerful, sexy and smart.
She chose books because they lied to her with more conviction than people ever had. ~ Dan Micklethwaite

If trust must be earned, hasn't God unequivocally earned our trust with the bark on the raw wounds, the thorns pressed into the brow, your name on the cracked lips. ~ Ann Voskamp

While his comrades got stuck in, Richie knelt beside Davey and turned him over. His cousin's cheeks had a blueish tinge to them, his eyes were closed. Richie pressed his ear against Davey's chest.
The heartbeat was strong enough. Alive, thank God. Unconsious, but alive. Richie took out his water bottle and upended it over Davey's face.
"Your debt is paid, cousin of mine," he said as a faint moan sounded in the other's throat. "Now let us be friends again. ~ David Pilling

With the supplies gathered, he went over to the stainless-steel sink and pressed the foot pedal to get the water running. While he washed his hands, he said quietly, "If I could, I would."
"Excuse me?"
Qhuinn pumped some suds into his palms and scrubbed all the way up his forearms. Which was overkill, but if Blay wanted him superclean, then that was what he was going to be. "If I could love a guy like that, it would be you. ~ J.R. Ward

Eric pressed himself against me, a long hot line of sweat and flesh. There was a roll of his hips against mine and I said, "Wow." He laughed. The ~ T.J. Klune

It was her grandfather who'd told her the tale of this particular violin, over and over, as if the telling could stave off loss, as if the weight and scope of human history were not found in books or in those mythic universities in Rome and Naples that no one in their village had ever seen but, rather, were encoded in objects like this one, a violin touched by hundreds of hands, loved, used, stroked, pressed, made to outlive its owners, storing their secrets and lies ~ Carolina De Robertis

In late March 2016, at a very bad Thai restaurant in the little town of Selfoss, Iceland, I and my daughters Alissa and Hannah sat with my girlfriend, Jennifer, and her daughters Sadie and Hannah (yes, two Hannahs) as Jennifer and I pressed forward with the difficult task of family blending. Jennifer's Hannah was talking about Black Lives Matter and the injustices that befall African Americans every day.

'Anti-Semitism basically doesn't exist in the United States,' she asserted.

I shocked myself with my response. I recoiled at her words and argued passionately that Jews must never think that anti-Semitism has been eradicated. Vigilance, I preached. The Jew can never be at peace.

I sounded like my grandmother. ~ Jonathan Weisman

Does anyone swim in there?"
"Everyone does." Without thinking, he added, "I can bring you back sometime when we're not so pressed for - " Trace caught himself before finishing that awesome thought. Pressed for time or not, the odds of him ever returning here with Priss were slim to none.
Gaze cynical, Priss looked at him over her shoulder. "Yeah, right. Maybe we'll do that." She turned to face him. "Sometime when we're not at odds, when we're not dealing with a madman who enjoys selling women, when you haven't just drugged me earlier in the day?"
Trace rubbed the back of his neck. "All of the above. ~ Lori Foster

I would be hard-pressed to look back at anything that I have done in my career and not say, 'I would have done that a little different' because hindsight is 20/20. ~ Sam Huntington

Holmes was charming and gracious, but something about him made Belknap uneasy. He could not have defined it. Indeed, for the next several decades alienists and their successors would find themselves hard-pressed to describe with any precision what it was about men like Holmes that could cause them to seem warm and ingratiating but also telegraph the vague sense that some important element of humanness was missing. ~ Erik Larson

Well, forgive the fuck out of me for being shocked senseless when I realized he wasn't dead. Why didn't you tell me he was the beast, Ryodan? Why did we have to kill him? I know it's not because he can't control himself when he's the beast. He controlled himself last night when he rescued me from the Book. He can change at will, can't he? What happened in the Silvers? Does the place have some kind of effect on you, make you uncontrollable?"
I almost slapped myself in the forehead. Barrons had told me that the reason he tattooed himself with black and red protection runes was because using dark magic called a price due, unless you took measures to protect yourself against the backlash. Did using IYD require the blackest kind of magic to make it work? Would it grant his demand to magically transport him to me no matter where I was but devolve him into the darkest, most savage version of himself as the price?
"It was because of how he got there, wasn't it?" I said. "The spell you two worked sent him to me like was it was supposed to, but the cost was that it turned him into the lowest common denominator of himself. An insane killing machine. Which he figured was all right, because if I was dying, I'd probably need a killing machine around. A champion to show up and decimate all my enemies. That was it, wasn't it?"
Ryodan had gone completely still. Not a muscle twitched. I wasn't sure he was breathing.
"He knew what would happen if I pressed IYD, and he made ~ Karen Marie Moning

The ochre-yellow linoleum floor hasn't been scrubbed for some time; splotches of dirt bloom on it like grey pressed flowers. ~ Margaret Atwood

I'm hard pressed to give an example on the spot of a president who explicitly spoke of the vindication of history, but I'm confident that there are many such examples. ~ David Greenberg

The miniature sandscapes of ridge and valley pressed into the soles of my feet and for days after the walk I would feel a memory of that pressure and pattern. ~ Robert Macfarlane

Daddy, they need to take the casket." Robert's voice came from somewhere behind him. "I love you, baby. Forever and always." Kane pressed his lips against the top of the casket, his tears falling freely on the polished mahogany box. This was it, they were taking Avery. It felt so wrong to leave his side, so final. How would he find the strength to go on without him? Kane kissed the coffin again before he forced himself away. Robert materialized beside him, handing him a handkerchief - one of Avery's - and he cried a little harder when the scent of his favorite cologne wafted from the soft fabric. Kane stood, watching the guards, Robert's arm wrapped around his shoulders, holding him up, as Avery was taken from the room. Kane followed closely behind the casket, waiting until they loaded Avery inside the hearse to transport him to the funeral events of the day. ~ Kindle Alexander

Americans. They came right out with things. Hitchens family lore related the tale of how once, when I was but a toddler, my parents were passing with me through an airport and ran into some Yanks. 'Real cute kid,' said these big and brash people without troubling to make a formal introduction. They insisted on photographing me and, before breaking off to resume their American lives, pressed into my dimpled fist a signed dollar bill in token of my cuteness. This story was often told (I expect that Yvonne and the Commander had been to an airport together perhaps three times in their lives) and always with a note of condescension. That was Americans for you: wanting to be friendly all right, but so loud, and inclined to flash the cash. ~ Christopher Hitchens

Daemon pressed his forehead against mine. Oh, I still want to strangle you. But I'm insane. You're crazy. Maybe that's why. We just make crazy together. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

A speck of saliva flew from Ida's mouth onto Ester's lower lip. When Ida released Ester's arm and left the toilets, Ester wiped her mouth and reapplied her lipstick, but still she felt it there, the fleck of spit. In the hours which followed, Ester put her mouth to the rims of countless champagne glasses and wine glasses and shot glasses, but still she felt that spack of saliva clinging on. And even hours later, when Ester and Bernard were alone in bed and he was kissing her, all she could think about was Ida's spit on her lip, as if it were still there, pressed between her mouth and Bernard's like a cold sore. ~ Alison Moore

Iran is a country of 80 million people, educated and dynamic. It sits astride a crucial part of the world. It cannot be sanctioned and pressed down forever. It is the last great civilization to sit outside the global order. ~ Fareed Zakaria

Not threatening - warning. I haven't been hunting it this long and gotten this close to let anyone get in my way and fuck things up. There are two kinds of people in this world, Ms. Lane: those who survive no matter the cost, and those who are walking victims." He pressed his lips to the side of my neck. I felt his tongue where my pulse fluttered, tracing my vein. "You, Ms. Lane, are a victim, a lamb in a city of wolves. I'll give you until nine P.M. tomorrow to get the bloody hell out of this country and out of my way. ~ Karen Marie Moning

It's a soft-sounding word, 'never,' but its velvety timbre can't hide its sharp edges ... Never pressed down on him. It grabbed him by the neck and shook him. He sucked in a deep breath, sucked in all that never and started to sneeze. Never filled his nose, his eyes, his soaking fur. ~ Kathi Appelt

You are like a god, like an immortal one,' she whispered to me one night in our bed, her naked body pressed to mine, our sweat golden and glistening in the candlelight. 'Oh, my love,' I whispered back to her, 'I am more mortal than all. It seems that a part of me dies every night that I lie with you. ~ Roman Payne

After all, we may grant that a program running in a computer can reason, can perform elaborate mathematical computations, can play chess better than a human champion, can beat humans in TV game shows, can translate speech, and can even drive vehicles, but we would still be hard pressed to believe that a program with those abilities has free will, that it is selfconscious, that it has the concept of self, and that it fears its own death. ~ Arlindo Oliveira

I choose not to fight - it doesn't mean I can't! I'm no heroic vampire, but I'm not the useless coward many think I am."

"If you fought more often, they wouldn't think that," I noted.

"True," he admitted. "But their opinion doesn't matter." Kurda put his fingers on my chest and pressed softly down on my heart. "In here is where a man should judge himself, not on bars or in a ring or on a battlefield. If you know in your heart that you're true and brave, that should be enough. ~ Darren Shan

Stalker


The light so thick nothing's visible, cognoscenti

I knew them, stupid apes. Real apes know more

Before we said apes. I know how to be you bet-

ter  -  a stupid voice. You must find a mind

to respect  -  why? There was someone with ear

buds, speaking gibberish who wouldn't

stop walking beside me; freckle-spattered. I

had to ask the métro attendant for help;

she extricated him from me ... I respect his chaotic

speech, mild adhesive force because it makes no sense.

I am back on the alley, discovering adults are un-

trustworthy: someone's lying ... about a

fight between a teenage girl and boy  -  he pushed

her hard  -  first she badly scratched him, she's worse, his

mother says. I'm back at pre-beginning, I don't

want to go through that again. There is no

sexuality in chaos, there's no style, nor

hope. I want style  -  apes have style, people

have machines. Show me something to respect

This bleuet growing out of a wall on rue d'Hauteville.

I picked it and pressed it in a diary. Every once

in a while I respect a moment. I am back at

pre-beginning: I don't want to care beyond

this ... sudden hue in the sand, yellow or spotted with an

hallucinated iridescence. The one who is

stalking me ~ Alice Notley

The King and Queen did the best they could. They hired the most superior tutors and governesses to teach Cimorene all the things a princess ought to know - dancing, embroidery, drawing, and etiquette. There was a great deal of etiquette, from the proper way to curtsy before a visiting prince to how loudly it was permissible to scream when being carried off by a giant. (...)

Cimorene found it all very dull, but she pressed her lips together and learned it anyway. When she couldn't stand it any longer, she would go down to the castle armory and bully the armsmaster into giving her a fencing lesson. As she got older, she found her regular lessons more and more boring. Consequently, the fencing lessons became more and more frequent.

When she was twelve, her father found out.

"Fencing is not proper behavior for a princess," he told her in the gentle-but-firm tone recommended by the court philosopher.

Cimorene tilted her head to one side. "Why not?"

"It's ... well, it's simply not done."

Cimorene considered. "Aren't I a princess?"

"Yes, of course you are, my dear," said her father with relief. He had been bracing himself for a storm of tears, which was the way his other daughters reacted to reprimands.

"Well, I fence," Cimorene said with the air of one delivering an unshakable argument. "So it is too done by a princess. ~ Patricia C. Wrede

I sank my head onto my knees. I was glad of the darkness. I closed the tin lid and pressed it tight. I promised myself I would never open it again. Never. I would never taste it. I would never even try. I was glad of the darkness, because in the darkness, no one can see you cry. ~ Gill Lewis

I sighed. "Actually, Mom, we argue pretty regularly."
"What?" She gaped at me. "Well, stop it!"
"Oh, and I kneed him in the groin once."
There was a split second of silence before May barked a laugh. She covered her mouth and tried to stop it, but it kept coming out in awkward, squeaky sounds. Dad's lips were pressed together, but I could tell he was on the verge of losing it himself.
Mom was paler then snow.
"America, tell me you're joking. Tell me you didn't assault the prince."
I don't know why, but the word assault pushed us all on the edge; and May, Dad, and I bent over laughing as Mom stared at us.
"Sorry, Mom," I managed.
"Oh, good lord." She suddenly seemed very excited in meeting Marlee's parents, and I didn't stop her from going. ~ Kiera Cass

Laurel lifted his chin until their faces were even. Tamani closed his eyes and she could feel his jaw trembling under her hands. She brushed her lips over his, reveling in the velvety softness of his mouth against hers. When he didn't pull away, she pressed more firmly, knowing, somehow, that she had to move slowly, convince his tattered soul so carefully that she meant every word.
'I love you. And I'm asking you...' She opened her mouth slightly and gently scraped her teeth along his bottom lip, feeling his whole body shudder. 'No,' she amended, 'I'm begging you, to come be with me.' And she pressed her mouth against his and murmured, 'Forever.'
For a few seconds he didn't respond.
Then a groan escaped his throat and he thrust his fingers into her hair, pulling her mouth to his with a fierce hunger.
'Kiss me,' she whispered. 'And don't stop.'
His mouth enveloped hers again and their shared sweetness tasted like ambrosia as he caressed her eyelids, her ears her neck, and Laurel marveled at the strangeness of the world. She had loved him, had always loved him. She had even known it, somehow.
'Are you sure?' Tamani murmured, his lips softly grazing her ears.
'I am so sure,' Laurel said, her hands clutching the front of his shirt.
'What changed?' He pushed her hair away from her face, his fingers lingering on her temples, just brushing her eyelashes.
Laurel sobered. 'When I brought you the potion, I thought I was too late. And I had ~ Aprilynne Pike

Here, let me help." Nick stepped behind her, reached around her body, and placed his hands over hers, steadying the rifle against her shoulder. At his touch, unusual tingling sensations coursed through her. "Look down the sights to the target," he murmured in her ear. His finger pressed over hers, guiding her movement. Her whole body warmed at his closeness. Too aware of him, she couldn't concentrate. She just closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger. The noise of the shot reverberated in her ears. The recoil of the gun sent her staggering back into Nick. His arms tightened around her. She lowered the rifle. "You missed," Nick's voice teased in her ear. Elizabeth's heart raced. She relaxed against his chest, loving the feel of his strong arms around her. ~ Debra Holland

Isn't there something in Genesis about not looking back? A stupid glance over my shoulder showed her expression relaxing, glad I wasn't taking anything that couldn't be replaced and glad I didn't destroy anything that couldn't be repaired. "Do you care for me, Georgia?" I asked her. "Tell me you don't and I'm out of your life forever." She stood in the driveway with her arms wrapped around herself like she was freezing. "Andre is on his way."
"I didn't ask you about no Andre."
"He'll be here in a minute."
My head hurt, but I pressed her. "It's a yes-or-no question."
"Can we talk when Andre gets back? We can-"
"Stop talking about him. I want to know if you love me."
"Andre…"
She said his name one time too many. For what happened next, she would have to take some of the blame. I asked her a simple question and she refused to give me a simple answer. I turned from her and made a sharp left turn, pounding across the yard, feeling the dry grass crunch under my shoes. Six long strides put me at the base of the massive tree. I touched the rough bark, an instant of reflection, to give Old Hickey the benefit of the doubt. But in reality, a hickory tree was a useless hunk of wood. Tall, and that's all. To break the shell of a hickory nut, you needed a hammer and an act of Congress, and even then you needed a screwdriver to get at the meat, which was about as tasty as a clod of limestone. Nobody would ever mourn a hickory tree except Celestial, and m ~ Tayari Jones

His lips brushed my cheek, and I found it hard to concentrate."I lied earlier."
"About what."
His hands slid to my lower back."When I said you looked great? I wasn't completely honest."
That was not what I expected. I turned my head the slightest and then bit back a gasp. Our mouths were centimeters apart and I thought about Brit's certainty that he would kiss me tonight. I forced my tongue to work."You don't think I look great?"
"No,"he said, his expression serious as one hand followed the line of my spine, resting below the edges of my hair. He lowered his head so that his temple pressed against mine.
"You look beautiful tonight."
My breath caught."Thank you. ~ J. Lynn

Jake shuts the van's back doors and lies down next to me. He's really close, so close I can feel him breathing on the nape of my neck. I could put more space between us, but instead I scoot backward, leaning into him, my back pressed into the pleasant warmth of his front. Jake holds his breath for a moment, but he doesn't say anything. And he doesn't move away ... He moves so his mouth is right under my ear, brushing the skin there, and one of his hands slides up, resting on my rib cage. My whole body tingles as he starts to sing softly into my ear. ~ Hannah Harrington

All her focus was on the burning want Ronin was evoking in her as he pressed her back up against a pine. The rough bark sharply poked its way through her light jacket, digging into her skin, and the odd pain pushed her to increase the force of her kiss as she clawed at his back. His grip on her ass tightened, and Ronin groaned down her throat. ~ Sibylla Matilde

It isn't true about the lambs.
They are not meek.
They are curious and wild,
full of the passion of spring.
They are lovable,
and they are not silent when hungry.

Tonight the last of the triplet lambs
is piercing the quiet with its need.
Its siblings are stronger
and will not let it eat.

I am its keeper, the farmer, its mother.
I will go down to it in the dark,
in the cold barn,
and hold it in my arms.

But it will not lie still--it is not meek.

I will stand in the open doorway
under the weight of watching trees and moon,
and care for it as one of my own.

But it will not love me--it is not meek.

Drink, little one. Take what I can give you.
Tonight the whole world prowls
the perimeters of your life.

Your anger keeps you alive--
it's your only chance.
So I know what I must do
after I have fed you.

I will shape my mouth to the shape
of the sharpest words--
even those bred in silence.

I will impale with words every ear
pressed upon open air.
I will not be meek.

You remind me of the necessity
of having more hope than fear
and of sounding out terrible names.

I am to cry out loud
like a hungry lamb, cry loud
enough to waken wolves in the night.

No one can be allowed to sleep. ~ Alice B. Fogel

I don't blame you. But if there's anything else you have to tell me, now would be the time."
He pressed forward, urging me to stretch on the couch. Coming over me, he whispered, "I'm in love with you."
With everything going wrong, that was the one thing that was totally right.
It was enough. ~ Sylvia Day

Hating, hating, hating, that's all I ever hear. People are never just people. No, everybody's a faggot or a dyke or a nigger or a dirty Jew or a goddamn liberal or something." She clenched her fists and pressed them to her temples. "Oh, Jesus, I'm so sick of it. And now you're willing to forget everything that was good about Lissa and despise her memory just because she had something inside that made her love women instead of men?" Eyes ablaze: "Is that the kind of person you are? ~ Iolanthe Woulff

Rowan's head was still angled as he asked, "Your mothers were cousins, Prince, but who sired
you?"
Aedion lounged in his chair. "Does it matter?"
"Do you know?" Rowan pressed.
Aedion shrugged. "She never told me - or anyone."
"I'm guessing you have some idea?" Aelin asked.
Rowan said, "He doesn't look familiar to you?"
"He looks like me."
"Yes, but - " He sighed. "You met his father. A few weeks ago. Gavriel ~ Sarah J. Maas

He pressed his lips to her shoulder, whispering along her soft skin, "I'm right where I want to be. ~ Lisa Kessler

I completely remember the horror I felt when my pits started getting hairy. I would walk with my arms pressed against my sides. ~ Lisi Harrison

We dance. Sweet, downcast, through-the-lashes-glances bely every beating she got at thirteen, every lash of the tongue from her dad at fourteen, every heroin high that let her out for awhile, every hour and day she had to be tough.

She is so natural and soft. Her shoulders are down, hips loose and swinging as we close together. I swear I'm growing chest hair just looking at her. I've been a boy in public before, but I've never seen her like this. That's it exactly; I haven't seen her at all, except in glimpses, in half-confessional role-play sex. And here she is - pressed tight against my chest, hips grinding against my crotch to the bass bump of the music. Her thigh along mine is electric heaven. Two drag queens cannot decide whether we are breeders or in drag. I stroke my mascara-made mustache at them - but none of it matters with hands in suede and the way she smiles. ~ Various

Not a breath, not a sound - except at intervals the muffled crackling of stones that the cold was reducing to sand - disturbed the solitude and silence surrounding Janine. After a moment, however, it seemed to her that the sky above her was moving in a sort of slow gyration. In the vast reaches of the dry, cold night, thousands of stars were constantly appearing, and their sparkling icicles, loosened at once, began to slip gradually towards the horizon. Janine could not tear herself away from contemplating those drifting flares. She was turning with them, and the apparently stationary progress little by little identified her with the core of her being, where cold and desire were now vying with each other. Before her the stars were falling one by one and being snuffed out among the stones of the desert, and each time Janine opened a little more to the night. Breathing deeply, she forgot the cold, the dead weight of others, the craziness or stuffiness of life, the long anguish of living and dying. After so many years of mad, aimless fleeing from fear, she had come to a stop at last. At the same time, she seemed to recover her roots and the sap again rose in her body, which had ceased trembling. Her whole belly pressed against the parapet as she strained towards the moving sky; she was merely waiting for her fluttering heart to calm down and establish silence within her. The last stars of the constellations dropped their clusters a little lower on the desert horizon and became s ~ Albert Camus

Little Man turned around and watched saucer-eyed as a bus bore down on him spewing clouds of red dust like a huge yellow dragon breathing fire. Little Man headed toward the bank, but it was too steep. He ran frantically along the road looking for a foothold and, finding one, hopped onto the bank, but not before the bus had sped past enveloping him in a scarlet haze while laughing white faces pressed against the bus windows. Little ~ Mildred D. Taylor

I pressed my fingers to my temples. "This is a nightmare. I'm going to wake up in a few minutes, the lock on my front door won't be broken, there will have been no knight, and Tink will still be a foot tall playing with troll dolls." "Oh, I'll still play with them," Tink replied.I squeezed my eyes shut. "If it makes you feel better, I can return to your Tink-approved size, ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

This." He seized hold of her hand and pressed it over his still heart. "There are times I can almost feel this actually beating for you. You have owned it since the moment I saw you. It may have taken me a while to come to that realization, but it's true, and there is nothing, nothing that is going to change that. Not blood and not sex. You were made for me Aria. ~ Erica Stevens

I pressed her thigh and death smiled ~ Jim Morrison

Even though we couldn't find anything else in the darkness, we had no trouble finding each other. His hands fell to my hips, like they belonged there. I felt myself being pressed against the rickety wooden shelves, the firm, warm heat of his bare chest against my damp skin. His breath bathed my face, nervous, and sweet, and excited. ~ Karole Cozzo

As soon as we arrived home, I told Bliss I was going to take a shower. Sundays were a two-show day, so I certainly needed it. I let her go in first to brush her teeth. I waited for the water to turn on, then leapt into action. I found Hamlet's feathered cat toy (the only reason she would ever willingly get close to Bliss), and hid it underneath the bed. Then I went to the closet and found the suit coat pocket where I'd hidden the ring. I popped open the box to look at it one more time.

It wasn't much. I was only an actor, after all. But Bliss wasn't one to wear much jewelry any way. It was simple and sparkling, and I hoped she would love it as much as I loved her. A popping sensation filled my gut like those silly candy rocks that Bliss loved.

What if I was pushing her too fast?

No. No, I'd thought this out. It was the best way. I opened the top drawer of the nightstand, and slid the ring box toward the back. The water in the bathroom shut off, and I went back to the closet, shucking my shirt. I tossed it in the hamper at the same time Bliss walked in the room.

She came up behind me and placed a hand on my bare back. She pressed a small kiss on my shoulder and asked, "Get Hamlet for me before you shower?"

I smiled, and nodded.

Bliss was so determined to make Hamlet like her that she played with the cat for at least half an hour before bed every night. Hamlet would stick around for as long as Bliss waved t ~ Cora Carmack

Mm hmmm." His gaze dropped to her lips. "I missed ye." Lordy, he could melt marzipan with that sexy Scottish burr.
With a dip of his chin, he brushed a kiss across her mouth. Hot tingles spread down her back. Eva moved closer and pressed her body flush with his toned, muscular form. If they hadn't been born so many centuries apart, she could have believed they were made for each other, fitting together perfectly as if molded from the same clay.
Closing her eyes, she drank him in, allowing her senses to take over. Hot, spicy male kissed and held her in a tender embrace with arms that could crush a man, let alone her fine bones. Yet he cradled her with incredible tenderness. ~ Amy Jarecki

She touched her hand to his cheek, and he turned toward her, his arms coming around her to draw her close, his cheek pressed to the side of her hair. She felt his chest lift against hers as he drew in a ragged breath and held her tight. And then he said the words she'd long thought she'd never hear.
God, how I love you, Hero. So much. So much ... ~ C.S. Harris

That's what I thought" he said. "It doesn't change anything, Zinzi". He moved to kiss me, but as I tilted my head up, he pressed the mango against my lips instead. "Idiot" I said, wiping my mouth, mainly to hide my smile. "Adulterer", he grinned. "Unwitting accomplice!" "You weren't so unwitting last night. And besides polygamie is legal in Congo." "Did I call you an idiot already?" "Only as much as I deserve." This time he did kiss me. I handed over twelve bucks for the mango and tucked myself under his arm, forcing Sloth to shuffle over begrudgingly. "Are we a terrible cliché?" "Isn't everybody?" he said. ~ Lauren Beukes

Nixon urged Clinton to maintain his relationship with Yeltsin but make contact with other democrats in Russia. He warned Clinton away from some ultranationalists and toward those interested in liberty and reform. He pressed Clinton to replace his ambassador in Kiev and concentrate future U.S. economic aid on Ukraine, where it would matter most. ~ Nancy Gibbs

I always get what I want, Rogan. Always."
"And what about what I want?"
Wolfe pressed a soft, tender kiss to my lips, the arrogance giving way to deep sincerity. "I'll always give you what you want, Rogan. Always. ~ Samantha Young

Hotel Du Lac
Edith, once again anonymous, and accepting her anonymity, made an appropriately inconspicuous exit. And, sitting in the deserted salon, the first to arrive from the dining room, she felt her precarious dignity hard-pressed and about to succumb in the light of her earlier sadness. The pianist, sitting down to play, gave her a brief nod. She nodded back, and thought how limited her means of expression had become: nodding to the pianist or to Mme de Bonneuil, listening to Mrs Pusey, using a disguised voice in the novel she was writing and, with all of this, waiting for a voice that remained silent, hearing very little that meant anything to her at all. The dread implications of this condition made her blink her eyes and vow to be brave, to do better, not to give way. But it was not easy. ~ Anita Brookner

Never sleep anywhere but in my bed." She might have protested, but he turned her roughly so that she lay on her stomach, her cheek pressed into his pillow. He lay on top of her, his upper body braced on his arms but his hips and legs weighing her down. Trapping and holding her. "You're mine," he said, laying his cheek against hers. "Mine and no one else's. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

"Dance with me, blossom," he coaxes, and when I hesitate, he reels me in with his magic. I snuggle into his chest and let myself savor his vitality, wishing I could absorb it.
He wraps an arm around my waist and clasps my hand with his. Lips pressed to my dreadlocked head, he hums the lullaby's tune while his inner voice fills my head on a frequency only I can hear: "You dazzled me today. So uninhibited. So filled with malice." ~ A.G. Howard

He threw her a crooked grin as he removed his shirt completely, revealing a torso that seemed too perfectly muscular and finely honed to be real. Unbearable tension knotted inside her, and she struggled with inhibition and modesty as he bent over her. "Shall I stop now?" he asked, cuddling her against his long body. "I don't want to frighten you."
Her cheek pressed against his shoulder, and she relished the exhilarating sensation of pressing her bare skin against his. She had never felt so vulnerable, so willing to be vulnerable. "I'm not afraid," she said, her voice dazed and wondering, and she withdrew her hands from between their bodies, so that her breasts pushed directly against his chest.
An aching sound came from his throat, and he buried his face against her throat, kissing her, working his way downward. ~ Lisa Kleypas

I'm falling in love with you. As the words left his mouth, his lips pressed to mine, giving me the most intense and explosive kiss I had ever had. With the coldness of his lips and the warmth of his tongue beneath mine I saw fireworks and felt them through every part of my body. ~ Magan Vernon

What happens if you lose?" Jeremy pressed.
"I don't see it as winning or losing. I'm just looking for a middle ground," he [Justin] said. "I get that technology is convenient and has its benefits. We definitely can't live without it. We can't go back to living in caves. But most people are so plugged in, they're not even living in the real world. Our lives aren't grounded by anything. Being too dependent on something makes you a slave to it. And I sure as hell won't worship a digital screen. So I'm looking for a halfway point. A balance. It's not just about ending digital school. It's about having a choice. ~ Katie Kacvinsky

A brick could be used to keep your sandwich pressed down, so your meat doesn't spill out. ~ Jarod Kintz

Here's where things get hazy. John claims that the men hauling him away from the scene were escorted by other men carrying submachine guns, though when pressed, he admitted that they may have been flashlights. Either way, John says the men threw him down and intended to execute him, at which point he kicked one of the men in the face and backflipped to his feet. He then wrestled away the man's gun and "dick-whipped" him with it. I am unclear as to whether or not this means he struck the man in the groin or merely slapped him in the same manner in which he would slap a person with his dick. I never ask John to clarify such things. Anyway, he said he swung again and slammed another man's skull with the gun, so hard it "made the batteries fly out. ~ David Wong

I felt my resolve crumbling. I wanted him, wanted him badly. I needed him too. I almost gave in. I almost told him that there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to be with him. That I didn't think I was capable of leaving him. That he was more precious to me than anything. That I'd give up anything to be with him.
But then he pressed me close and spoke softly in my ear, "Pease don't leave me, priya. I don't think I could survive without you."
My eyes filled up with tears, and shiny wet drops spilled down my cheeks. I touched his face.
"Don't you see, Ren? That's exactly why I have to go. You need to know that you can survive without me. That there's more to life than just me. You need to see this world that's opened up to you and know that you have choices. I refuse to be your cage.
"I could capture you and keep you selfishly to indulge my own desires. Regardless of whether you're willing or not, it would be wrong. I helped you so that you could be free. Free to see and do all of the things that you missed out on all these years." My hand slipped from his cheek to his neck. "Should I put a collar on you? Chain you up so you spend your life connected to me out of a sense of obligation?" I shook my head.
I wept openly now. "I'm sorry, Ren, but I won't do that to you. I can't. Because…I love you too."
I kissed him quickly one last time. ~ Colleen Houck

Philip stood with the tip of a sword pressed into Mr. Beaufort's throat. I saw another sword on the floor. Neither gentleman looked toward the door. Philip looked perfectly in control, his sword bending the skin of Mr. Beaufort's neck without piercing it. When he spoke, though, his voice sounded so fierce I hardly recognized it. "Tell me what you did to her."
"I made sure you wouldn't want her anymore."
"I will always want her," Philip said in a quiet, furious voice. "Always! There is nothing you could do to change that."
Mr. Beaufort sneered. "Then why do you want to know?"
"Because I would never make her say the words. And because I want to know how much I should enjoy running you through. ~ Julianne Donaldson

It's like I don't have any one genre, I guess. I think you'd be hard-pressed to get me into a rom-com, but who knows? ~ Joe Carnahan

Family is a choice?"
"It is?"
His thumb pressed into my palm firmly. "It's your choice. Parents and siblings are your relations. Family takes care of one another and helps each other. When each side is working together, when everyone wants it, that makes the difference. ~ C.L.Stone

According to Festus, our flying table, Buford, made it back safely while we were in Charleston, so those eagles didn't get him. Unfortunately, he lost the laundry bag with your pants."
"Dang it!" Frank Barked, which Leo figured was probably severe profanity for him.
No doubt Frank would've cursed some more -busting out the golly gees and the gosh darns- but Percy interrupted by doubling over and groaning.
"Did the world just turn upside down?" he asked.
Jason pressed his hands to his head. "Yeah, and it's spinning. Everything is yellow. Is it supposed to be yellow? ~ Rick Riordan

It's simple. If you go to see 'Saturday Night Fever' expecting it to be good, it's a corker. However, if you go expecting it to be a crock of shit, it's that, too. Thus 'Saturday Night Fever' can exist in two mutually opposing states at the very same time, yet only by the weight of our expectations. From this principle we can deduce that any opposing states can be governed by human expectation - even, as in the case of retro-deficit-engineering, the present use of a future technology."
"I think I understand that. Does it work with any John Travolta movie?"
"Only the artistically ambiguous ones such as 'Pulp Fiction' or 'Face/Off.' 'Battlefield Earth' doesn't work, because it's a stinker no matter how much you think you're going to like it, and 'Get Shorty' doesn't work either, because you'd be hard-pressed not to enjoy it, irrespective of any preconceived notions. ~ Jasper Fforde

I'm saying that storms happen - cancer happens. Accidents happen. We can either run from them, hide from them, or....go through them. God is with us in all of those situations. But yeah, some of his best people are pressed out, shaken, fermented...aged through circumstances or time. ~ Susan May Warren

I talked to the computer at great length and explained my view of the Universe to it," said Marvin. "And what happened?" pressed Ford. "It committed suicide," said Marvin, ~ Douglas Adams

When I came up, I chanced a look at him. A mistake. The famished, wounded set of his body hinted agony. That he was dangerous seemed secondary to how alive I became. I'd been pretty all my life, but no one had ever watched me as Mark Donahue did now - as if I were a mythical creature.
I hooked my elbows over the side of the tub, nipples pressed against the slick porcelain, and crooked a finger at him. "Come here."
He was on his feet immediately. I stood, naked skin steaming, smelling like Johanna's gardenias, not like Wren at all. Like someone loved and desperately needed. But he kept his distance, as if I were the dangerous one. ~ Talia Vines

Setting her jaw, Whitney turned left. "This is a one-way street." He looked around helplessly. "Didn't you see the sign?" "I know it's a one-way street," she muttered and pressed harder on the gas. "It's also the quickest way across town." "Oh, Jesus. ~ Nora Roberts

It's a jump, Minuette, that's all it is. A jump out of this world, straight into my arms."
Incredibly, she managed to smile. "You will catch me?"
He pressed his lips against hers. "Always. ~ Laura Anderson

I'm sorry." Her voice cracked. "McKenna-"
"Not sorry enough." He pressed his wet face to hers, his mouth rubbing over her cheeks and chin in feverish, rough half kisses, as if he wanted to devour her. "Not nearly enough. You say you've had to live without your heart...how would you like to lose your soul as well? I've cursed every day I've had to live without you, and every night that I spent with another woman, wishing that it was you in my arms-"
"NO-" she moaned.
"Wishing," he continued fiercely, "for some way to stop the memories of you from eating away at me until there was nothing left inside. I've found no peace anywhere, not even in sleep. Not even in dreams..." He broke off and assaulted her with hungry, shuddering kisses. The taste of his tears, his mouth, made Aline disoriented and hot, her head reeling from shocks of pleasure. McKenna seemed possessed by a passion that bordered on violence, his lungs wracked with hard breaths, his hands tightening with a force that threatened to leave bruises on her tender flesh. "By God," he said with the vehemence of a man to whom entirely too much had happened, "In the past few days I've suffered the torments of the damned, and I've had enough! ~ Lisa Kleypas

You are my life." Though his words were barely a whisper, they seemed to echo from somewhere deep within him, enveloping my body and infusing me with something unshakable. "There is nothing I would not do to make you happy. Before I met you, my world was a string of days that were gray and empty. I had nothing to look forward to, and I cannot tell you what it was like, facing down eternity alone. Every day I wished for you. Every day I held on in hopes that eventually we would meet. And when I finally found you..."
He leaned in and kissed me again, astenderly as before. His hand slid underneath my shirt, splaying across my stomach, but the touch wasn't sexual. It was as if he were trying to memorize me, just as I was trying to memorize him.
"I have existed for more eons than I remember. I have seen the sun rise and fall so many times that the days lost all meaning. For so long, they passed me by in a blur. But that night we met by the river - the night you gave up yourself in order to save a virtual stranger - my heart began to beat again."
He took my hand and pressed it against his chest, and there it was - thump thump, thump thump, strong and beautiful. I would've given anything to keep his heart beating. The black abyss that had become my world in those hours I'd thought he was dead had faded, but it was a scar I would always bear. I couldn't go back to that. Even if I had Milo, I would never have another Henry. ~ Aimee Carter

I bunched the squirrel-fur hat up under my head and left the pack for Mal to use as a pillow. Then I pulled my coat close around me and huddled beneath the new furs. I was nodding off when I heard Mal return and settle himself beside me, his back pressed comfortably against mine. As I drifted into sleep, I felt like I could still taste the sugar from that sweet roll on my tongue, feel the pleasure of laughter gusting through me. We'd been robbed. We'd almost been killed. We were being hunted by the most powerful man in Ravka. But we were friends again, and sleep came more easily than it had in a long time. At some point during the night, I woke to Mal's snoring. I jabbed him in the back with my elbow. He rolled onto his side, muttered something in his sleep, and threw his arm over me. A minute later he started snoring again, but this time I didn't wake him. ~ Leigh Bardugo

"I am so sorry, Joe," he whispered, gently pushing her hair away from her face and neck. "I know I keep fucking up," he said, pressing a kiss to her neck, "and that by all rights you should bitch slap me, but I can't stand the idea of you getting hurt."
His hand found its way to her panty clad hip and gave her a gentle squeeze. "It kills me to think of what could have happened that night, Joe," he explained softly as he pressed another kiss to her neck. "Do you have any idea how lost I would be without you?"
"You're my entire world, Joe," he said, pressing another kiss to her neck, this time lingering. "I don't know what I'd do without," he said against her skin. ~ R.L. Mathewson

There was something written in pencil in the bottom corner, smudged and faded. I leaned in until my nose was almost pressed against the glass. Narnia, it looked like.
I must have stared for a lot longer than it seemed.
A tap on the door had my jumping. "Ella?" A second later. "Um...Ella? You okay in there?"
Alex looked red-faced and startled when I jerked the door open. Even more so when I grabbed his wrist with both of my hands and pulled him into the bathroom. Another time,I might have been equally red-faced. I would definitely have been uncomfortable, even if it wasn't in a bad way. But at the moment,I was too busy in a different part of my head.
I let go of him and pointed to the sketch. "That's a Willing."
"Is it?" He didn't look particularly impressed. More relieved that I hadn't fallen and hit my head or had some similar mishap.
"Edward Willing. You have to know who Edward Willing is."
He peered past me. "Philadelphia painter. Early twentieth century, right? I was in your art history class last year,you know."
I didn't.Not really. "You were?"
"I sat in back.You sat in front. Never saw your face during class,but I remember you arguing with Evers about Dali.I remember. You don't like Dali."
"Not much."
"You like this guy?"
"Yeah." I took a breath. "Yeah.I do. And you have one of his sketches. In your guest bathroom. ~ Melissa Jensen

Maybe you should stop going by want you feel. He opened my hand and pressed the flower in my grip. And start going by what you know is truth. ~ Jenny B. Jones

The goal of religious thinking is exactly the same as that of technological research
namely, practical action. Whenever man is truly concerned with obtaining concrete results, whenever he is hard pressed by reality, he abandons abstract speculation and reverts to a mode of response that becomes increasingly cautious and conservative as the forces he hopes to subdue, or at least to outrun, draw ever nearer. ~ Rene Girard

Shira turned and blew kisses toward her clients who had pressed their faces against the salon window like children in a candy store and she their Willy Wonka of beauty. ~ Terri Gillespie

And you're about to pay for that, baby." Furi spun Syn around and pushed his chest against the door. "Furious," Syn groaned when he felt his sweater being roughly yanked over his head. Furi's hand pressed hard into the center of his back, keeping him pinned against the front door. "Yes, punish me." Syn froze when Furi's assault on his body stopped immediately after he said that. Oh no. Furi's hair was brushing against Syn's face as he leaned in to whisper in his ear, "You ever been handcuffed, Sergeant? Restrained." Syn shivered, his cock leaking in his tight jeans. "Oh fuck." "Don't ~ A.E. Via

I pressed my head into the pillow and I screamed.
Pure sound. No words. But it all came out as your name. ~ David Levithan

I can press when there needs to be pressed; I can hold hands when there needs to be
hold hands.
~ George W. Bush