GABRIEL’S INFERNO (2020)

“I gaze up at the bedroom ceiling. Sleep eludes me. I’m tormented by Ana’s fragrance, which still clings to my bedsheets. I pull her pillow over my face to breathe in her scent. It’s torture, it’s heaven, and for a moment I contemplate death by suffocation.”

Grey by E. L. James

PRIDE & PREJUDICE (2005) Dir. Joe Wright

“I laugh, relieved that she’s . . . that she simply exists. And that we were lucky enough to exist in the same lifetime, in the same area of the world, in the same state. And that, after all these years, I surprisingly wouldn’t change a single thing about what ultimately brought us together.”

November 9 by Colleen Hoover

“She smiles and spoons a bite into her mouth. She pulls the spoon out and licks frozen yogurt off her bottom lip.

I wasn’t expecting this today of all days. To be sitting across from this girl, watching her lick ice cream off her lips and having to swallow air just to make sure I’m still breathing.”

November 9 by Colleen Hoover

“The flakes settle on his harsh face and disappear. They settle on his agitated chest, his shoulders, his sun-struck hair and disappear.

I watch them, wishing I could be like that.

I wish I could be like snow. I wish I could touch him.

I wish I could disappear.

I wish…”

My Darling Arrow by Saffron A. Kent

Giulio Berruti in Gabriel’s Inferno - Part 2 (2020)

“What are you doing sneaking into my backyard in the middle of the night, stealing my roses?”

Oh, fuck.

I’d completely forgotten about the flowers. Now, I feel them plastered to my rapidly breathing chest, my fingers wrapped around the stems in a death-grip.

I tuck my hair behind my ears with my free hand and explain, “I only took the dying ones. Not the good ones.”

Mr. Edwards throws them a distracted glance like he couldn’t care less about the flowers. “Yeah? Why not the good ones?”

At his question, I lower my eyes to them. I finger the yellowed edges lightly. Some of the petals are so loosened and dry that a puff of air could make them fall apart.

Poor babies.

“Because no one else wants the bad ones,” I say.

“And you do.”

I look up. “Yes. I always want the bad ones.”

Bad things. Bad roses. Bad crushes.

His frown gets even deeper. I almost wonder if he’s doing himself a permanent injury by frowning this much. “Why’s that?”

“Because everyone wants something pretty. Something that’s fresh and beautiful. Something that’s perfect. But then, what about the things that are imperfect? Things that might not be as pretty or as conventional. Things that might be weird, outdated or outcast? They’re not in much demand, are they? They’re not wanted. But I do. I want them. So they don’t feel rejected.”

Dreams of 18 by Saffron A. Kent

“I’m —”

I lean in then and smell the triangle of his throat, cutting him off.

It’s something that I’ve been wanting to do ever since I saw that patch of skin in his office a few days ago.

And now that he’s here, I couldn’t stop myself from giving in and I was right.

I was so fucking right.

His scent is thicker here.

Thicker and headier and I have to open my mouth to take it in.

Leather and cigar smoke.

With a hint of cherries.

That’s new though and I wonder if I can lick it too. I wonder if I could take a bite out of it, his throat. Just to see if it tastes the same as it smells.”

Hey, Mister Marshall by Saffron A. Kent

Through My Window

A través de mi ventana 💘