Jodi Picoult

“During the night he'd kicked off a sock; his toes were plump as early peas; it was all she could do not to taste his caramel skin. So much of the language of love was like that: you devoured someone with your eyes, you drank in the sight of him,you swallowed him whole. Love was sustenance, broken down and beating through your bloodstream.”


Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes
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Nineteen Minutes Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult
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