I can’t believe it,” he whispers. “You’re still human.”
His hands grab my face from both sides, and before I can pull free, his lips come down hard on mine.
I’m frozen for half a second. No one has ever kissed me in my life. Not a real kiss. Just my parents’ pecks on the cheek or forehead, so many years ago. This is something I thought I would never feel. I’m not sure exactly what it feels like, though. There’s too much panic, too much terror, too much adrenaline.
I jerk my knee up in a sharp thrust.
— Melanie Stryder,
The Host by Stephanie Meyer (via
mathematicalheart)