Quotes About Intimacy

If it had been great sex I doubt I'd remember he tooted between thrusts.

It's not helpful for your connection with your husband to discuss with him your hurt or scared feelings about him, but your feelings do deserve airtime. So make sure to honor and express those feelings somewhere else. The more you preserve the intimacy in your marriage by avoiding comments that are disrespectful to or critical of your husband, the less you're going to have those hurtful moments. You'll be too busy laughing together and holding hands.

My husband is smart enough to notice me trying to control him like I'm his boss or his mother—instead of his lover—no matter how clever my wording.

If there's a lot of tension and distance at your house, you might ask yourself if there's something you've done that's disrespectful. If so, you have the opportunity to apologize and restore the intimacy. When the intimacy in your relationship is gone, it's almost always an indication that the respect is missing too. You might be surprised at how quickly you can get both back with a simple apology.

These are the four magical questions to help you decide whether you'd rather act on your fear or choose your faith.   1.  What am I afraid of?   2.  Is my fear realistic?   3.  Can I actually control the situation?   4.  Is it worth the intimacy it would cost me to try to control?

Keeping secrets will always lead to unhappiness and communication is the key to love.

With aggressive come-ons, at least you knew where you stood. Holding hands, you got - hopeful.

for some reason, he didn't want her to look back at him with rejection or reciprocal challenge. He definitely didn't want her to look at him as if she was mentally gauging her ability to kill him to defend herself. He wanted her to look at him like she looked at his chocolate, as if she was absorbing strength and happiness. And was in no hurry to leave it. It turned his heart all funny to think of being

If you were only crumbs on a plate, I would pick every last one up with my finger

She was the curator of her marriage, collector of swift quotes and unremarked-upon sensations.

Moriría por un beso tuyo... moriré por un beso tuyo.

Me refiero al amor –susurró en voz baja-. Cuando amas a alguien, sientes algo aquí –añadió, colocando su mano sobre el corazón de Uri-. Tan fuerte que parece que no puedes respirar. Tan intenso que deseas estar siempre con esa persona y no separarte de ella nunca más.

Tienes idea de lo que sería capaz de dar por un beso tuyo?

Nada ni nadie, humano, monstruo o Guardián, habría podido arrebatarles aquel momento que ya solo les pertenecía a ellos.

And he made her a lot of things but not uncomfortable. Nervous, maybe. Lustful, yes. Sometimes even a little stupid. But not uncomfortable.

daughter-in-law, Cecy, with whom she had become dear friends.

She needed someone to worship; he needed slavish devotion. They became inseparable companions.

The first time I had sex with a man for money, it was September.

He felt certain that if she'd have let him, he could have levitated with her in his arms and they could have made love on the ceiling. He could have unzipped his body and wrapped her in his skin. He could have buried himself in her neck and slipped into the place between her shoulder and her throat, and been soldered by passion to her forever.

A man holding a woman made of bad moods in his arms.

I fell in love with the boy next door, and my own flesh became a thing I'd never really worn before. Sometimes, pressing my palms together, I thought I felt a magnetic field between them- something invisible but shaped, like sound, or heat, an egg of light, and it was thought I could hold the life force itself in my hands.

Its been six weeks," he murmured. "Six weeks I've wanted you. I know how you move, and how the sunlight makes a shadow on the curve of your cheek, and the shape of your ear." He chucked harshly then turned his head on the pillow to look at her. "I'm dying," he said. He dropped his fist against his chest. "Right here, you're killing me.

I want to see your stockings," he growled. "The plain white ones." Her lips parted, as if to make a refusal, and then she blinked. Her puzzled look only made her more adorable to him. "Yes, I was driven demented in your closet." He bent down to kiss her. "I'm passionately in love with your hosiery.

Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score; Then to that twenty, add a hundred more. Robert Herrick, 1648