"This is so wrong ..." Emma breathed out against his lips when he pinned her up against the wall. "Is it?" Alexander echoed, slipping his hands underneath her large sweater, grazing her lips. "She's my friend ..." Emma argued weakly, albeit unwilling to push him off. "Don't think about it." He merely replied, starting to nibble on her neck. As his lips nipped down on her sensitive skin, Emma let out a breathless moan and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, so that he could hook her legs around his torso, effectively seizing her in his arms. The walk to his bedroom was short, and before she could say anything, she found herself on his bed, him hovering over her. His every touch was inebriating, the way his lips knew exactly where to go in order for her to lose sight of her moral duties, the way his hands skillfully caressed every inch of her skin, as if savoring it in advance, was driving her insane. And when she met his fiery gaze, Emma knew she was doomed. She had no chance but to surrender to this devil that was tempting her, pushing her towards something that - she was well aware - would be difficult to give up on once set in motion.

"You're atheist," I remind him. "You don't believe in god." "I believe in you," He murmurs, letting the cigarette hang from his lips. "I believe in whatever you believe." He says, letting the confession roll off his tongue as if it were that simple. As if god, the devil, heaven, hell-as if none of it really had meaning to him. "That's not how it works," I mutter as we walk down a few more alleyways-the city of Manhattan coated in a light blanket of snow. Henry Vitiello had never had anything to pray for, that is, until he met me-the only thing that had ever opened his mind up to the possibility of religion "Isn't it?" He argues, taking the cigarette by his middle and pointer finger before blowing the smoke out. "I'II dip my hands in holy water if it means I could touch you." "You'd probably burn." 𓆩♡𓆪 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, the reaper. He's a prick. An asshole. A pretentious son of a bitch. He's not perfect. He's not even decent. But he's hers. She could be a bottle labeled poison but he was an alcoholic, and he had drunk her empty. Now he was hungover. 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, the healer. She's known to be the perfect good girl, with perfect grades and a perfect life with a perfect family. They didn't know that behind the gated doors of their billion dollar estate, she was strapped down to a chair every night and picked apart just to be put back together in time for supper. 𓆩♡𓆪 star-crossed; adjective (of a person or a plan) thwarted by bad luck. 'star-crossed lovers' and that, they were. So they fucked under those very stars that tried so desperately to break them apart. 𓆩♡𓆪 ‼️DISCLAIMER ‼️ BOOK REFERENCES TO MARA DYER, SHATTER ME, MIND FUCK, ETC ARE ALL INTENTIONAL SO DONT BE RUDE. AS FOR TRIGGER WARN

If unlikes attract, then likes should repel too. Or is REPULSION just an illusion. An illusion so real, that it makes the unlikeness visible. Too visible that the likeness is lost. And then what happens!? Attraction!? Let's see then...

Soph, a new junior at Delaware County High School, is used to being alone. She doesn't need any friends. After her homophobic dad kicked her out for being a lesbian, she moved in with her older sister and built a wall around her heart. She didn't think anyone could break through. Until she met Ari. The two girls grow closer, with Soph, all the time, wanting something more. Terrified of her feelings, Soph opens up slowly, but were her inhibitions correct after all?