He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my — Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
Download Customize

He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my waist and pulling me in close. So. Close.

— Chelsie Shakespeare, The Pull
Pin Share Tweet Telegram
Topics
death desire dreams love meant to be past lives reincarnation romance sexy shakespeare soulmates story vintage young adult

More “Death” Quotes

and to die with the Warrior's Prayer on his lips. For, 'Yes', he had sighed on his dying breath, and all knew that was t — Robin Hobb, Fool's Fate
Grant not my prayers, when they are contrary to Thy will, which at all times must be the best. Oh, hear them not; — Hans Christian Andersen, The Annotated Hans Christian Andersen
The True Man of ancient times knew nothing of loving life, knew nothing of hating death. He emerged without delight; he — Zhuangzi, The Complete Works of Chuang Tzu
It seems impossible to wheedle his way out of his impending death. No one has before him. But just as a young person fee — M. Starks, Aulay
Forgive me, my sons. I've been defeated by this despicable idiot. This is as far as I go.I leave everything to you.You h — Whitebeard
And now I am sitting in the graveyard, staring at two headstones, and feeling good and bad at the same time. The way we — Julene Bair, The Ogallala Road: A Memoir of Love and Reckoning
Why when people are on their deathbed, they finally come to terms with life? — Anthony Liccione
I know inside that there is more to life than this mortal coil. It's a very shallow minded person who thinks that someon — Jonny Kennedy
Leave me to die a lonely death. An artist’s death. A writer’s playground. A painter’s background. A philosopher’s bread — A.P. Sweet, dead, but dreaming
I think in life there is only one absolute truth. Death... It's the only definitive horizon, sometime it leaps, runs acr — Crystal Evans
The day I became a writerit wasn't the day a whore paid me in sexin exchange for one of my bookswhich happened often and — Dave Matthes, Wanderlust and the Whiskey Bottle Parallel: Poems and Stories
The serious writer was aware of a paradox at the heart of his art: his inner world, the place of the strongest stories, — Marcus Speh, Get Lit, Round 1: Short Fiction