Danger Days By My Chemical Romance นิยาย & เรื่องราว

She felt like she was walking a dangerous line, a precipice with no safety net, teetering between desire and reason. The office lights cast long shadows across the room, painting the space in a warm, golden glow. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only them—their unspoken tension, the magnetic pull between them, the dangerous, thrilling temptation that neither could resist. And in that suspended moment, Lena realized something terrifying and exhilarating: once you give in to temptation, there is no turning back. With Alex, she had already crossed the invisible threshold, and the consequences—whatever they might be—were inevitable.

I'm not sure. I carefully flip the book to page 50. I read the words, then stop and stare at her lust filled eyes. "There's no rain or flowers falling from the sky." Her fingers press against my lips shutting me up. Slowly, too slowly she tells me. "There's chemistry between us, don't you feel it?" "You don't know all the dirty thoughts my mind is filled with of you. Don't tease me unless you're willing to please me." I grit my teeth and look away from her, afraid that I may have exposed my dark side.

For a split second the sidewalk rolled and bucked beneath them as if they were on a boat. It took a moment for the truth to sink in. A bomb. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Hunter was still on top of her, his arms crossed over her head and face to shield her. She didn’t dare move. People were screaming, running past them, even over them. Hunter grunted when someone stepped on him, but he didn’t budge from his position atop her. She could hear the sound of glass shattering close by, hitting the ground somewhere behind them with a sharp crash. The smell of smoke and burning wreckage was already

"I want you everyday" "I am yours" he groans and deepens the kiss.

I am damn lame. Lucas makes everything around me sound so light, but as the people went out I am left by the fact that I am crippled. I was in the front page of every newsletter the day the accident happens. I got a lot of mails and on my side table are goods from friends who hope me to get well and from enemies who hope me to die.

They are going to take me away somewhere, and being that I know nothing about this place, I'm going to be in danger of never finding my way back to him. Anger overtakes me, as I continue to struggle, feet dragged through the snow, glaring at Senna and Castiel and all the people standing behind them, working with them. I want them all dead. I don't care who they are or what they want with me, I want them dead. All of a sudden, they burst into flames.

"I'm going to fuck you like I've always wanted to red, hard. Till you scream my name with your sweet feisty lips enough for this whole building to know that I am taking you. Stop me now red. Stop me" It felt like a warning. It was a warning. A warning that I was slowly drifting into a place I might never get out from again. I wanted him. And he wanted me. And it was dangerous. And I could get hurt. But I've never been so dangerously wanted in all my life and somehow , it felt good. I leaned in and claimed his lips. He was quick to kiss me back immediately with the same tremor and urgency. I had my answer. And nothing else mattered in the heat of the moment.

“And I saw the same look in that waitress’s eyes when she saw the outline of your erection in those ridiculous sweats. That’s why I snapped on her. It’s like a sickness. We are constantly monitoring the perimeter for threats.” “It’s not a sickness,” Damien murmured, leaning closer until his forehead rested against mine. His breath smelled like the mint coffee he’d ordered earlier. “It’s chemistry. It’s what happens when two people are so ridiculously addicted to each other that the thought of anyone else breathing the same air as their partner feels like a personal violation.” “So, what’s the cure?” I challenged, enjoying the friction of our skin.

Three days at full dose, maybe four if I was careful about spacing. Through the wall I could hear Chloe two doors down, her music on, drawers opening and closing and downstairs the low murmur of Rafael on another call, that commanding, unhurried voice that my body had apparently decided to track from any distance in any room without being asked. Chloe was leaving tomorrow morning. Rafael was leaving Thursday night. The heat window was three days, four at most. I'd managed it before on suppressants. I'd use cold showers, water, keeping busy, staying out of my own head. I could handle it.