“I love you, Sport. You’re it for me. You fill up a space in me I didn’t even know was empty.”
“But I need you to keep in touch. I’m not used to giving this much of a shit about somebody, and it turns out I got a short drive to crazy. So check your phone, okay?”
“That wasn’t sex talk, Lilli. I’m tellin’ you I love you. Don’t make a fuss. Just sayin’ what I feel.”
“I love you, Sport. I want to put my ring on you. I want to put my ink on you. I want to make a baby with you.”
“I love you, Lilli. So much I’m dizzy with it.”
“Her head felt like elephants were doing the merengue on her cerebellum.”
“Ah, Christ. Do you know how fucking good you feel on me? So damn tight and soft, holding me in. I love the way you smell, the way you taste. I love the sounds you make. Fuck, baby, I love you.”
“Lilli . . . Lilli . . . Lilli.”
Sweet Jesus, she was going to kill him. She’d just gotten to sleep. Now he was running a finger up and down her spine, saying her name in an extremely life-threatening singsong voice.”
“He would not lose her. He never thought to have this; he never thought he wanted it. But he had it, this love, this binding with another soul, and he was not giving it up. Fuck no. He would not betray her.”
“I want to put my ink on you. I want to make a baby with you.”
“Don’t look down,’ Perabo warned them when they almost reached the top and the view from the archways became imposing.
Froi sensed Perabo was instructing himself more than the others.
‘You obviously haven’t been imprisoned on the roof of a castle in the Citavita, Perabo,’ Lirah said.
‘Or hung upside down over a balconette staring down into the gravina, waiting to die,’ Gargarin added.
‘Nothing worse than being chained to the balconette with your head facing down over that abyss,’ Arjuro joined in, not one to be outdone in the misery stakes.
‘Try balancing on a piece of granite between the godshouse and the palace with nothing beneath you but air,’ Froi said.
Perabo stopped and took a deep breath and looked as if he was going to be sick.
‘Don’t look down, Perabo,’ Froi advised.”
“It's one of the secrets of strength: We're so much more likely to find it in the service of others than in service to ourselves.”
“You wouldn't let him do it, would you, Jamie?"
Jamie's expression was very serene. She stared at Andrew when she spoke to her husband.
"With your permission, I would like to answer him."
"You have it," Alec replied.
"Andrew," she called out in a voice as cold and clear as a frigid winter morning, "my
husband does whatever he wishes to do. I am sometimes allowed to help, though. If he
decides to cut off your feet, I will, of course, offer him my assistance.”
“It may be a crush, or hero worship (...), it may not be love, but if you've never felt anything stronger, how do you tell the difference?”
“there would be no way for anyone to get caught in the act of wondering,”
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