Looking Up Through Eyelashes Novels & Stories

That was the plan that I had in mind until my eyes fell to his face, and I found myself staring at his long light blond eyelashes. Were his lashes always this long? Before I knew what I was doing, I had bent down a little to take a closer look at them. Seeing Bradon’s sleeping face felt like I had stumbled upon one of his hidden secrets. I wondered how he could look so innocent and harmless while he was sleeping. I knew that I should leave but if I moved, he might end up waking up. Regardless, I couldn’t stop staring at his sleeping face while taking in his closed eyelids, the long light blond lashes that framed his eyes, his perfectly straight nose, and the beautiful curve of his chin.

She could not let him see the tears that stood in her eyes, daring her to let them drop. Rosie clenched her jaw so hard that she could feel the bulge on the sides of her head that formed as a result of it. She sniffed and raised her head up, looking into the sky, hoping that the tears would find their way back into her sockets. They did, and she swallowed hard when the mist covering her eyes had cleared.

Clawed fingers lifted my chin, slow and deliberate, guiding my gaze straight into predatory, storm‑grey eyes. Even the tears pooling behind my lashes knew better than to fall.

I looked at him through my lashes, head slightly down as I didn’t want him to see I was seconds from shedding tears. I just wanted him to go up to the third floor and chose a room so I could cry in secret while I struggled to make my way up the stairs. His touch was gentle and feather light as he put his finger under my chin and gently tilted my face up so he could look me in the eye, his silver eyes soft with empathy.

Skyla's vision got blurry owing to the tears that would now and then fill her eyes. She gaped at his upper body that was dotted with thorns and some ants were still crawling on his upper body. Wiping off her tears, she tried to pick and throw the red ants away!

The director always told her that when you like someone, you can't help but look at them, and that the lady must just not know yet. Elias comes back without the tray and stands beside Mia. He's quiet for a moment, and then she feels his hand move near her face—slow, careful—and his thumb brushes across her eyelid before she can process what's happening. She blinks rapidly, startled. He's already withdrawn. "Flour," he says. "On your lashes." The warmth of his thumb lingers. She's fairly certain her eyelid is currently the warmest part of her body. "Ooooh," three children say simultaneously.

His eyes were forward, fixed on the door, his expression set in the resolved, slightly distant mask of a man who has just done something he considers noble. Lily saw me. She was facing forward too, her head tilted against David's shoulder, her gaze directed at the exit. But as they passed my row, her eyes shifted. Just slightly. Just enough. A lateral movement of the iris, no more than a few millimeters, that brought me into her peripheral vision.

Aria's POV I woke up at seven, surprised to find Aiden still in bed. Blinking sleepily, I turned to study his peaceful face, my gaze immediately landing on those impossibly thick eyelashes of his. God, were those lashes even real? They looked like they belonged in a mascara commercial. I remembered all those romance novels Lillian had forced on me, where authors always compared heroines' eyelashes to small brushes. I'd always rolled my eyes at those descriptions, thinking they were ridiculous exaggerations.

H e suddenly started batting his lashes and his eyes flew wide open “Shit!”