But before she could speak another word, he crushed his mouth against hers.It was so unexpected that she hadn't the chance to even think of pushing him away. His body pressed her firmly against the rough cave wall. His hands slid down to her waist to pull her closer to him.And just like that, with his proximity, with his kiss, he managed to fill her every sense. He was smoke from the campfire, he was leaves and moss and the night itself.There was nothing gentle in the rebel's kiss, nothing sweet or kind. It was like nothing she'd ever experience before, and so very dangerous—every bit as deadly as the kiss of an arrow.Finally, he pulled back just a little, his dark eyes glazed as if half drunk."Princess..." He cupped her face between his hands, his breath ragged.Her lips felt bruised. "I suppose that's how Paelsians show their anger and frustration?
Guilt isn't in cat vocabulary. They never suffer remorse for eating too much, sleeping too long or hogging the warmest cushion in the house. They welcome every pleasurable moment as it unravels and savour it to the full until a butterfly or falling leaf diverts their attention. They don't waste energy counting the number of calories they've consumed or the hours they've frittered away sunbathing.Cats don't beat themselves up about not working hard enough. They don't get up and go, they sit down and stay. For them, lethargy is an art form. From their vantage points on top of fences and window ledges, they see the treadmills of human obligations for what they are - a meaningless waste of nap time.
When we were young, not so long agoFame was my favorite television show,Lydia brought out the dancer in you and me,There was Coco, Holly and Shorofsky,Glued to my set to watch them dance and actLeroy was my favorite dancer on that setCleo really won my heart; she later rose to “Fame”I will never forget Irene Cara’s song “Remember My Name