What do you think?
Rate this book
18 pages, Audible Audio
First published January 1, 2018
Some people were born with a thick skin; some developed it over time. Luca had been born with skin like paper, and a crystal heart.
He’d had massive hands, hands that could crush granite to dust, this great dark earthen god with the strength of stone, but he’d handled everything—from his tiny, bleating goat kids to the smallest clover flower to Luca himself—with a gentleness that flowed from his hands like water, imbued with a living warmth. And Luca had been in love with him, the way only little boys could be.
That was the problem with Imre; he was so honest, so rawly and quietly true, that his honesty seemed to ask for the same from everyone.
He would destroy himself for this kiss.
You can find this review and more on my blog, or you can follow me on twitter, bookstagram, or facebook!
“Is it so wrong that I want you to look at me the way you are now?” he breathed. “That I want you to look at me and only me.”
And Luca had been in love with him, the way only little boys could be.
Those clear, calm eyes were remote and strange, as if Imre were an island whose shore Luca could never reach, no matter how far he swam.
“But I have many other loves in my life. I am alone, but not lonely.”
“Some people try to find that something for their entire lives, and might be old and grey before they figure it out—and there’s nothing wasted in the things they learned along the way, no matter where their lives might take them. Twenty isn’t so old to still be unsure. But the time you spend finding your way isn’t useless. You aren’t useless.”
“I think there’s a part of us that would always know each other. We could die and come back as different people in different bodies, and we’d still know. We’d still find each other, no matter what.”
And he would bleed every drop out for Luca. For this feeling. He would rip himself to shreds, let himself be torn apart by the silent hurricane inside him, this soundless tempest, this whirlwind whisper of delicate touches that struck with a hammer’s blow. He would destroy himself for this kiss.
"You're the kindest, most honorable man I've ever met. You're practically a saint."
"Saints do not have the thoughts I have."
"This place... it stopped feeling like home, when you left. And now it feels like home again. That is what I see. Not a boy, but the man who makes Lohere feel like home."
“No distractions,” Imre purred, nuzzling the curve of Luca’s ear, breaths rough and broken. “Nothing but this. I want you to feel me in you. Every moment of it, angyalka.”
“Ah—ah, Imre!”
“Ten.” Imre’s sigh was soft, contented, so deeply pleasured, erotic. “Stay with me, my angel.”
And then he tore Luca’s world apart.
🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐
’Imre hadn’t waited because he didn’t want Luca. Instead, Imre had waited to savour the pleasure of wanting Luca more and more. He’d never been looked at in such a way before—as if he was something to be devoured, to be worshiped, to be loved, to be defiled.
As if he was the heart that made the blood flow in Imre’s veins; as if he was the breath that filled his lungs.
As if he was beautiful. As if he was everything.’
🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐
“Nothing isn’t better than something, Imre. I would live fifty years with the pain of losing you for just fifty days to have you.”
🥹😭♥️
‘I’m only me when I’m with you, and when I’m with you I’m everything I want to be.’
He was in so many ways a stranger to Imre now; the boy he had been, that child who’d followed Imre everywhere, wasn’t in this young man who moved as though his body were made of music and laughter, who carried his hurts inside as if they were jewels to be hoarded, small and shining things that belonged to him and only him.This story is gorgeous. Beautiful and lyrical, but it was also a serious SLOW BURN. Not much happens for pages and pages. Which makes the title kinda appropriate. It's mostly about goat farming, goat breeding, apple picking, and riding horses. The love story was beautiful, but took such a long and meandering path to get there.