Miranda

“It was the greatest sensation of existence: not to trust but to know.”
― Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged

“I was just thinking if the sex with you is one-tenth as fun as arguing with you. I'll be one happy bastard."

"You'll never find out. You--------"

He kissed me.

~ Jack Travis & Ella Varner”
― Lisa Kleypas, Smooth Talking Stranger

“Her underwear, her jeans, the comforter, my corduroys and my boxers between us, I thought. Five layers, and yet I felt it, the nervous warmth of touching – a pale reflection of the fireworks of one mouth on another, but a reflection nonetheless. And in the almostness of the moment, I cared at least enough. I wasn’t sure whether I liked her, and doubted whether I could trust her, but I cared at least enough to try to find out. Her on my bed, wide green eyes staring down at me. The enduring mystery of her sly, almost smirking, smile. Five layers between us.”
― John Green

“All right, then,” she snapped, “do as you please! Perhaps afterward we could manage a coherent discussion.” Twisting beneath him, she flopped onto her stomach.

Christopher went still. After a long hesitation, she heard him ask in a far more normal voice, “What are you doing?”

“I’m making it easier for you,” came her defiant reply. “Go on, start ravishing.”

Another silence. Then, “Why are you facing downward?”

“Because that’s how it’s done.” Beatrix twisted to look at him over her shoulder. A twinge of uncertainty caused her to ask, “Isn’t it?”

His face was blank. “Has no one ever told you?”

“No, but I’ve read about it.”

Christopher rolled off her, relieving her of his weight. He wore an odd expression as he asked, “From what books?”

“Veterinary manuals. And of course, I’ve observed the squirrels in springtime, and farm animals and-”

She was interrupted as Christopher cleared his throat loudly, and again. Darting a confused glance at him, she realized that he was trying to choke back amusement.

Beatrix began to feel indignant. Her first time in a bed with a man, and he was laughing.

“Look here,” she said in a businesslike manner, “I’ve read about the mating habits of over two dozen species, and with the exception of snails, whose genitalia is on their necks, they all—” She broke off and frowned. “Why are you laughing at me?

Christopher had collapsed, overcome with hilarity. As he lifted his head and saw her affronted expression, he struggled manfully with another outburst. “Beatrix. I’m . . . I’m not laughing at you.”

“You are!”

“No I’m not. It’s just . . .” He swiped a tear from the corner of his eye, and a few more chuckles escaped. “Squirrels . . .”

“Well, it may be humorous to you, but it’s a very serious matter to the squirrels.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon