Quotes About Comfort

I actually cannot stand a room without a view - I would rather have a bedroom the size of a closet with a view over a suite without one.

Please be real," she gasped. "Please don't be a dream." "I'm real," Matthew said huskily. "Don't cry so hard, there's no—oh, Daisy, love—" He gripped her head in his hands and pressed comforting words against her lips while she struggled to get even closer to him. He eased her to the floor, using the reassuring weight of his body to subdue her.

Keir was almost shocked by the rush of tenderness he felt. "No, dinna be nervous with me." He took her against him, nestling her to his chest. "I would never harm you. You're safer in my arms than anywhere outside them.

What is it, angel?" "You told me once you didn't know how 'happy' feels." "I remember." "And now?" Derek regarded her for a long moment, then pulled her flat against him, locking her in his arms. "It's this," he said, his voice slightly hoarse. "Right here and now." And she rested against his heart, content.

Are you hurt, Evie? Look up at me, love. Yes. Sweetheart…did they do you any injury?

As she drowsed in his arms, it occurred to her that he provided the illusion of something she had never had before. Sanctuary. His hand passed repeatedly over her hair in the gentlest of caresses, and she heard him murmur in his dark-angel voice, "Rest, my love. I'm watching over you.

Turning, she held her arms out to him in a maternal gesture. McKenna went to her at once, his black head lowering to her soft, round shoulder as he wept.

Take your bath, pet," he finally managed to say. "You're safe from me tonight. I may look, but I won't touch. Go on.

McKenna was her counterpart, her compass, her sanctuary.

The stew had been made with chunks of beef, potatoes, and turnips simmered in burgundy wine until they melted at the lightest pressure of the tongue. There was a salad of crisp lettuce greens and chopped mint leaves, and wedges of cottage bread, the interior laced with holes to catch every drop of salted butter.

Hunt immediately adjusted his hold, bracing her easily. "I thought you looked pale," he remarked, gently stroking back a lock of hair that had fallen over her damp face. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Is it just your stomach, or do you hurt somewhere else?

You're so sweet . . . Cinda ... I knew you would feel like this ... I knew it would be this way. Put your arms around me . . . ah, Cin. . .

Feeling the reverberations of my panic, Jack pulled me between his thighs and gathered me against his chest. He held me wordlessly, with infinite patience. "I guess . . . ," I managed to say eventually, "I don't feel all-the-way safe." "Probably because you're not." Jack hooked his fingers at the side of my panties, drawing them down. "But in a few minutes, darlin', you're not going to give a damn." -Ella & Jack

Let me spoil you," he whispered. "Let me take care of you. You've never had anyone to lean on, have you? I've got strong shoulders, Annabelle.

Of all the Hathaways, Poppy was the one Catherine had always felt the most comfortable with. Poppy was a warm and talkative young woman who loved order and routine. Hers was an essentially sunny and accepting nature, providing a necessary balance to Harry's driven intensity.

After a long moment, he heard his mother say ruefully, "Sometimes I miss the days when I could solve any of my children's problems with a nap and a biscuit.

Some of her fear must have shone through her effort to maintain a reassuring facade, for her father took one of her hands and exerted a feeble tug to bring her closer to him. "Evie," came his faint whisper, "I'm going to your mother, y'see…she's got 'em to leave a back door open…so I can steal into 'eaven.

Some of her fear must have shone through her effort to maintain a reassuring facade, for her father took one of her hands and exerted a feeble tug to bring her closer to him. "Evie," came his faint whisper, "I'm going to your mother, y'see… she's got 'em to leave a back door open… so I can steal into 'eaven." She laughed quietly even as a few hot tears spilled from her eyes.

Are you going to cry, Mr. Bronson?" the child asked in concern, coming to stand beside his knees, staring into his downturned face. He managed to smile at her. "Just a little on the inside," he said raspily. He felt her little hand on his cheek, and he held utterly still as she kissed him on the nose.

It's damp outside, and I'm always cold. Most days I wear a cap and shawl indoors." "I could suggest other methods to keep yourself warm.

Don't tell anyone I was crying, or I shall be very cross with you." "No, monisha," he had soothed, cuddling her closer as she sniffled. "All your secrets are safe with me. You know that.

Catherine's face was peaceful, her lips slightly parted. Curled among the white bed linens, a glimpse of her pink shoulder visible, that golden hair streaming everywhere, she looked like a confection placed amid swirls of whipped cream.

They did what friends do when all else has failed…they sat with her in companionable silence…and let her know they cared.

You don't know how to cuddle," she said. "No," Tom had admitted. "I'm not sure what it's for.