Lips. There Was Something Strangely, Delicately Indelicate

She Opened Her Mouth To Answer, But He Was Already Kissing Her. She Had Kissed Him So Many Times—soft Gentle Kisses, Hard And Desperate Ones, Brief Brushes Of The Lips That Said Good-bye, And Kisses That Seemed To Go On For Hours—and This Was No Different. The Way The Memory Of Someone Who Had Once Lived In A House Might Linger Even After They Were Gone, Like A Sort Of Psychic Imprint, Her Body Remembered Jace. Remembered The Way He Tasted, The Slant Of His Mouth Over Hers, His Scars Under Her Fingers, The Shape Of His Body Under Her Hands.

I Should Have Guessed You Were Jace's Sister," He Said. "you Both Have The Same Artistic Talent." Clary Paused, Her Foot On The Lowest Stair. She Was Taken Aback. "jace Can Draw?" Nah." When Alec Smiled, His Eyes Lit Like Blue Lamps And Clary Could See What Magnus Had Found So Captivating About Him. "i Was Just Kidding. He Can't Draw A Straight Line.

Her Throat Ached: Adoration, Heartbreak, In Equal Measure. “kiss Me,” She Said. “please.

The Letter I Received Said You Had Need Of My Particular Talents, But I Must Confess That I Have So Many Talents That I Am Not Sure Which One You Require.

I'm Afraid To Answer That. I've Heard That When I Speak, It Makes American Women Wish To Strike Me With Umbrellas.