tattoos

it__ okay if college isn__ your thing. I__ sure there__ a pole somewhere with your name on it, but next time you might not want to buy your tits off Craig__ List. Just sayin_....Danny James

it__ okay if college isn__ your thing. I__ sure there__ a pole somewhere with your name on it, but next time you might not want to buy your tits off Craig__ List. Just sayin_.

He grinned at her intently before leaning over the counter and running his thumb along her jaw. It took everything inside of her not to lean into that touch. When he lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers, she made a little sound that caused Graham to growl. "Later," he whispered as he pulled back.

He wrapped her hair around his fist, tilted her head back, and kissed her. Hard. She moaned into him, and he pulled away. "Possessive much?" she asked on a laugh. "Just making sure these hooligans know you're mine." Her brow rose. "Really? Yours? Talk about caveman." "I'm a Gallagher, baby, I'm as caveman as they come.

He might kiss like a damn sex god and rev her engine like no other, but he clearly wasn't for her.

He's lost everything once, and now, he wasn't sure if he had anything left to lose.

There were reasons she stayed behind her barriers, reasons she was the way she was. And she'd be damned if she risked it all for a scowling man behind a beard. She'd learned the hard way once before. Never again, she promised herself. Never again.

This woman could make a saint sin.

When the pieces fell around him, he'd pick them up. It was what he was good at, after all. Restoring what was once lost, what could never be perfectly whole again.

It's how we work," his brother said simply. "I plan. Jake refines. Owen organizes. And you growl and grunt.

Take it all, all of it!" Greg cried out. "These things here...I've been making them better, fixing them. It doesn't matter...they don't matter. I've been here before." He paused to try to collect himself. "It's my past, my present...these things--" He lifted a hand out to the objects around him. "These things are me." Now whispering, "Can't you see me?

A mind wanders, thoughts flee and memories fade. But tattoos, tattoos are forever. And if it is true to say that we carry ourselves with when we travel - then the body may very well be a beautiful canvas for the timeless lessons we learn and will learn when we travel.

You can't be a rebel without the scars that come with it. Truth is, some days scars are just as ugly as they are beautiful.

She had a flower tattoo on her wrist; "What does that mean?" he asked her. "Absolutely nothing," she said, "it's just a flower.

He lifted his shirt, and on his back was the White Rabbit, wearing his waistcoat and looking at his watch. It was just like the illustration from the book. Only standing next to him, back-to-back, was another White Rabbit wearing a leather motercycle jacket and boots and smoking a cigar.

Tattoos, after all, are a passionate, usually doomed assertion of mastery of your own destiny, or at least a defiant embrace of one that you cannot control.

Getting ink felt right, like it would help her put her life in order, to move forwards. It was her body, despite the things that'd been done to it, and she wanted to claim it, to own it, to prove that to herself. She knew it wasn't magic, but the idea of writing her own identity felt like the closest she could get to reclaiming her life. Sometimes there's power in the act; sometimes there's strength in words. She wanted to find an image that represented those things she was feeling, to etch it on her skin as tangible proof of her decision to change.

Tattoos are a permanent commitment of passion