Quotes About Intimacy

I hate you," I whisper before he can speak. He tilts my face to his. "Say it again," he says as the imps comb my hair and place the ugly, stinking crown on my head. His voice is low. The words are for me alone. I pull out of his grip, but not before I see his expression. He looks as he did when he was forced to answer my questions, when he admitted his desire for me. He looks as though he's confessing.

For you I am forever undone

I knew little else, but I always knew you

A shiver goes through his body, and his hand goes to my waist, but instead of pushing me away, he pulls me into the bed with him, rolling my body across him onto the heavily embroidered coverlets.

I look into his eyes. His hand slides to my hip, as though he might pull me closer. For a dizzy, stupid moment, something seems to shimmer in the air between us. page 98

You carried my heart in your hands tonight," he said. "But I feel as if you have carried it long before that.

Il s'avère qu'après avoir embrassé quelqu'un, la possibilité d'un baiser plane en permanence

that I like him better than I've ever liked anyone and that of all the things he's ever done to me, making me like him so much is by far the worst.

I will lie down,' he says, letting me guide him toward his enormous bed. Once there, he does not let go of my hand. 'If you lie with me.

As I gaze at him now, stretched out on my bed, I feel more off balance than ever.

We trade kisses in the darkness, blurred by exhaustion.

Jude, he'd said, running a hand up my calf, are you afraid of me?

Cardan begins to strip off his shirt, showing an expanse of moon-pale skin and a back with a delicate tracery of faded scars.

High King Cardan smiles down the table indulgently and yawns like a cat. His hair is messy, as though he did no more than finger-comb it since rising from my bed. Our eyes meet, and I am the one who looks away, my face hot. Kiss me until I am sick of it.

Right then, I feel as though he sees everything—every hope of my heart, every stray thought I've had before falling into an exhausted sleep each dawn.

It's like fighting, except what we're fighting for is to crawl inside each other's skin.

And when he kisses me, I feel as though I can finally breathe again.

Kiss me until I am sick of it, he said, and now he has most certainly gorged on my kisses. Now he is most certainly sick of them.

Desire hits me like a kick to the stomach. It's like fighting, except what we're fighting for is to crawl inside each other's skin.

Tell me that you hate me." "I hate you," I say, the words coming out like a caress. I say it again, over and over.

mi vuoi veramente" gli dico, così vicina da sentire il calore del suo respiro. "e odi volerlo".

I hate being vulnerable. I hate that i throw my head back, baring my throat. I hate the way i cling to him, the nails of one hand digging into his back, my thoughts splintering, and the single last thing in my head: that i like him better than I've ever liked anyone and that of all the things he's ever done to me, making me like him so much is by far the worst.

She has known the tide and undertow of my feelings, my hurts, both small and large, for most of my life.

Everything ought to be as it was before, except it isn't. Whenever my hand brushes Oak's as he passes me a piece of bread or a skin of water, I can't help but notice. When we sleep in shifts, one of us left to navigate by the stars, I am drawn to watching his face, as though through his dreams, I will learn his secrets.