Quotes About Intimacy

The impulse to touch her and all the life in her was something I had to check regularly.

This was the way it was with Marc. His heart had a narrow field of vision. I knew it held a great many things, but the aperture was small and I had to wait my turn to be rotated back around into the light where I would glow so brightly I'd be all he could see.

And I kiss him. A long uninterrupted kiss that goes straight through my body, ringing it in the very best way.

When I get out of the car I'm so horny I can barely walk up the driveway.

She wraps an arm around me and pulls me in tight. 'I know how you feel. You know I do. It's good to get whacked open at least once, though,' she says. 'You can't really love from inside a big thick shell.

I understood then how guarded I'd been before with men, how little of me I'd let them see.

You are in my stomach' was their most intimate expression of love

He seems smaller, his hug without much muscle.

You can't really love from inside a big thick shell.

That night at Gertie's when she asked me if I preferred to be the one who loved slightly more or loved slightly less.

I wasn't sure how I would kiss her without lifting her up to my lips. She laughed as if I had said this out loud.

My body aches from my throat to my groin. I want him to slide his fingers into my bathing suit and make all the heaviness and misery go away. I feel like a hag in a fairy tale, waiting to be made young and supple again.

Han parkerar på min gata och vi hånglar lite till. Inget prat. Inga pussar. Kyssarna är långa och intima, som om vi berättar allt det vi behöver säga varandra på det här viset

Det är så mycket lättare att gråta när man känner någons armar runt sig [Karaktärens ord]

I need a martini in my hand and a girl in my bed.

She laughed. 'Was she wine or bread to you?' 'What do you mean?' 'It's from an Amy Lowell poem we all loved in college. Wine is sort of thrilling and sensual, and bread is familiar and essential.' 'Wine, I suppose.' 'Would it have turned to bread?' 'I don't know.' 'It doesn't always.' 'No, I suppose not.

Third date, I want to say, but I can't with Silas. Our dates are not self-conscious like that. We don't acknowledge that they're happening or say what they mean. IT all feels a bit haphazard and weightless, and to call attention to this might let out too much of the air.

We're walking close and bump against each other. Another person might have just taken his hand and said, Are you ever going to kiss me? But I'm not that person. It always takes me by surprise when someone wants to kiss me, even if they've met me at midnight with wine and a blanket. People change their mind. Between the idea and the reality falls the Shadow.

Silas leaves me a message, then another, and I don't call back. I've made my choice. I'm done with the seesaw, the hot and cold, the guys who don't know or can't tell you what they want. I'm done with kissing that melts your bones followed by ten days of silence followed by a fucking pat on the arm at the T stop.

particular kind of pleasure, of intimacy, loving a book with someone.

It's important to him, presenting this to me. I take his hand and he pulls me in and kisses me on the temple and we look through the windows again as if the house and everything inside it belongs to both of us.

We hold hands on the way back, but it feels like we're still kissing. My whole body responds to his hand in mine.

It was strong, whatever was between us, thick, like the wet air and the smell of every green thing ready to bloom.

There was nothing more to say so I kissed her and