ragulca2

“white coveralls. As he expected, Kozak was already huffing and puffing to get himself into everything, and Lantos was helping Nika to get properly attired; the leather jerkin wasn’t making it any easier, especially as Slater pointed out that it had to go inside, rather than outside, the hazmat gear. “Otherwise, it’ll have to be disposed of afterward,” he said. “No way,” Nika said, struggling to get the zipper all the way up and over it. “This has been in my tribe for at least two hundred years.” Once she was in, Lantos”
― Robert Masello, The Romanov Cross

“tie fastening and flared sleeves. Very boho. Mo was right, she had lost weight; the top used to be snug on her arms and across her shoulders but now skimmed her shape nicely. With a white vest underneath and two strings of multi-coloured glass beads that she had picked up in Primark, she knew she would pass muster. ‘Well, look at you!’ Mo beamed. ‘You look lovely.’ ‘I don’t feel it, not really.’ She felt sick at the prospect of going to a social event without Phil. It wasn’t that they stuck together, joined at the hip, but she always took great comfort from knowing he was close by, just in case. ‘You’re going to be fine. The first time for anything is always the worst. Just take a deep breath.’ Rosie did just that and Mo disappeared into the kitchen and emerged with her mixing”
― Amanda Prowse, My Husband's Wife

“I’m not sure I should say.” “Well, I’m not going to beg you,” I told him. “Cold, cold water,” came from the landing above. Ricky glanced up at the old man and seemed disgusted. “We were alone in the Greek’s apartment, right above the store while the Greek was working,” he said. “And, what,”
― Tom Upton, Fading Away

“scorching wind that seemed to slam me back against the restroom door. I tried to take a breath and found I couldn’t. My chest was tight, my eyes wide. The heat inside me went lava-hot, a crashing, scorching waterfall that slammed straight down to my groin. I’d never in my life felt such want. He wanted me. I looked deliberately away and then back. I tried to reduce him to something ordered, to a description. Six-four. Dark hair. Blue eyes—It didn’t work. The words were boxes into which this man refused to be stuffed. He wasn’t six-four. He was just big, big like the mountains outside were big. His hair wasn’t dark, it wasn’t some”
― Helena Newbury, Alaska Wild