روايات وقصص ضمن Like A Handprint On My Heart

And when you're finished, you're finished and you know, in between those quick breaths, bewilderment of the mind and fluttering of the heart; there's passion or there's nothing. And it was right here with me, all in the fucking palms of his sinful hands, all in his fucking eyes, all in his fucking mouth that takes more than you can fucking give. I couldn't have me more messed up. It's one thing to have a man in your heart but try desperately to let go because they are just too fucked up and you just can't handle it any longer but no matter how hard you try, you just know that they are still fucking there. Every single second of the day.

I press the letter to my chest and I feel the heart thump against the paper like a reply. "I don't know your name as I write this. I don't know your face. But I know you needed a heart and I have one to give, and honestly that's a better love story than most people get. My heart is stubborn, that’s a fair warning. It beats faster when it's angry and slower when it's near lavender and it has a terrible habit of falling in love with people who don't know what to do with love. That might be my fault. Or it might just be the heart. Either way, it's yours now. So make sure you appreciate it and treat it better than I did."

I whisper seconds before I place my hand against his heart, heating up the skin beneath my palm. A hissing sound leaves Lucern’s lips, the unexpected heat from my hand catching him off guard for a moment. The brand that graces my chest, a mixture of every mate that I love so dearly, starts to heat up as it has done multiple times before. I close my eyes against the discomfort and pour all of the love that I feel for Lucern into him through my heated palm.

I approach the window. The day falls slowly. The sky cries with me. And there, on the misty glass, something strange: A mark. A faint imprint, like that of a palm. Small. Delicate. I stare at it, frozen. I place my hand on it. It is cold, but the glass trembles under my fingers. And then, deep within me, a heartbeat. A presence. Fleeting. Fragile. But real. Not an illusion. Not a memory. Something else.

My heart had legit stopped for a second. Ths rub patches of his palm slid against the softness of my skin. His giant hand clasped mine in a firm grip, conveying his authority and dominance over all of us. Thankfully, it didn’t tingle. But my heart did miss a beat. That hand had killed many but all I felt was a strange sense of comfort. His strong grip spoke of tenacity. He knew how to hold onto something.

My fingers itch to draw patterns on his hair dusted chest "Seeing something you like?" he raises an eyebrow at me. I smile at him as he leans in closer toward me so I can have a better look. I run my fingers across his hard chest and sexy abs. He has a scar across his chest on the breast where his heart rests. It looks like a slash or scratch, I can't tell. I trace it with my fingers and place my palm on it to feel his heart bit. It looks like someone wanted to pull out his heart. He places his hand over mine and I look at him.

’ Heart thought. “Why are you making my heart beat like this, huh?!” Cullen screamed angrily as he grabbed Heart’s hand and put it on his chest. Heart’s eyes widened more and he could even feel and hear his heart fluttering. ‘His heartbeat, it is so loud.’ Heart thought while looking at her hand on his chest. ‘But, why?! I don’t understand.’ Heart thought, she was still clueless and speechless about this.

And thаt’ѕ whеn іt happened. Without brеаkіng еуе соntасt he рlасеd hіѕ mаѕѕіvе hаnd uр against mу heart. His hand ѕрrеаd оvеr my brеаѕt аѕ hе соnnесtеd with mе, but I соuld feel the thrоbbіng оf the blооd in his vеіnѕ mаtсh uр wіth the роundіng оf mу hеаrt. It wаѕ lіkе hе wаѕ tоuсhіng me from the inside; іt wаѕ bеаutіful.

I can see there’s something engraved on it so I bring it closer to my face to read it. “Forever my baby girl,” with a little heart at the end. My heart flutters and I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe. In that moment a realization smacks me in the face like a ton of bricks: I think I’m in love with him. Well, Fuck. I choke down the words that threaten to come out.

I felt every single fingerprint on his hand like it was a hot iron searing my skin. The world started to tilt. Every breath I took felt like I was inhaling dust.