Happy Mundane Monday!
Their eyes were so close together, she could see the pattern of gold and darker gold in his irises, like a mosaic opal. She had been cold for so long, and now she felt as if she were burning and melting at the same time, dissolving into him-and they were barely touching. She found her gaze drawn t the places he was most vulnerable-his temples, his eyes, the pulse at the base of this throat, wanting to kiss him there, to feel his heartbeat against her lips.
His scarred right hand moved down her check, across her shoulder and side, stroking her in a single long caress that ended at her hip. She could see why men liked silk nightclothes so mud. There was no friction; it was like sliding your hands across glass. "Tell me what you want," he said in a whisper that couldn't quite disguise the hoarseness in his voice.
- Jace & Clary, City of Lost Souls, pages 245-246
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