Quotes About Intimacy

Neither of us seemed able to be close to anyone. Not even each other. Closeness meant the one you loved the most would cause you the most damage. How did you unlearn that? It was woven deep between every fiber and vessel. You couldn't cut it out.

Aware of her uneasy gaze straying to his rampant arousal, Sebastian shot her a scornful glance. "Pay it no mind," he said, climbing into bed with her. "From now on, I have every expectation that proximity to you will affect my private parts like a prolonged swim in a Siberian lake.

Was she terribly ravishing in her underclothes?" Livia asked craftily. "Yes," Marcus said without thinking, and then scowled. "I mean, no. That is, I didn't look at her long enough to make an assessment of her charms. If she has any.

You're surrounded by it wherever you go, you walk through it, breathe it...it's in your lungs and under your tongue and between your fingers and toes.

If I had the right, I would forbid you to go anywhere without me. Not out of selfishness, but because being apart from you is like trying to live without breathing.

I closed my eyes, thinking, Let me love you, Hardy, just let me.

When she awakened, Hunter was watching her with eyes like dark velvet. "You're the last woman I'll ever make love to," he said, stroking her breast, toying with the rosy peak. She stroked his sun-streaked hair and the hard nape of his neck, loving the feel of him against her. "Good," she whispered. "Keep me with you, Lara. I don't want to leave you.

His thumb caressed the scarlet surface of her cheek. "From now on, Hannah, no matter what you say or do, I'm going to look at your mouth and remember how sweet you taste." A self-mocking smile curved his lips as he added quietly, "Damn it.

And since Evie's husband, St. Vincent, had decided not to go fishing, Evie said she would rather remain in bed with him. "You would have much more fun fishing with me," Daisy had told her. "No," Evie had said decisively, "I wouldn't.

Holding himself deep inside her, he groaned, while a shiver ran across his shoulders. "You're so tight," he said hoarsely. "I-I'm sorry—" "No, no," he managed. "Don't be sorry. My God." His voice was slurred, as if he was drunk on pleasure.

Sweet," he whispered, and stole a kiss from her lips. "Sweet… let me stay with you a little longer." -Jack to Amanda

He approached her with great care. Sinking to his haunches, he contemplated her with immeasurable tenderness and concern. One of his big hands moved, shoving aside some of the books until the space between their bodies was clear. "It's me, love," he said softly. "Everything's all right.

Have you tried to be honest with her about your feelings?" came Devon's voice from behind him. "Sweet mother of God, can you hear yourself?" West asked without turning around. "I'd get more manly advice from Kathleen.

She wanted him to stop, but more than that, she wanted him to go on forever.

I realized that my kisses with Dane had become a form of punctuation, the quotations or the hasty dash at the end of a conversation

You're not worried about being compromised, are you?" he asked. "Because I've already done that.

Dane touched my chin and lifted my face upward, and kissed me gently. Only then did I understand that Dane had always been a friend I had slept with, and how entirely different that was from having a lover who could be a friend.

But I think if it's the right person, you wouldn't have to work so hard at intimacy. I think—hope—it would just happen naturally. Otherwise, opening up to the wrong person..." I made a face. "Like putting ammo in their hands.

I still feel very close to the people I wrote shows with and some of the people I toured with. I feel very close to them, like a family or like college friends who you know and who have seen you at your worst and you spend 14 hours driving a van all piled on top of each other.

I think when one becomes very close to another person, it can mean loving and intimacy, but on the other hand, there's also the danger of one destructing another under the name of love. I think that is the scariest thing for me in various relationships.

What I would love to see is art that explicitly addresses not personal intimacies but anonymous intimacies: the vast collections of facts about you and me that now exist in giant server banks.

Fights are nice because I can hang with my girlfriend and not leave the house. Shows are nice because that's how I can afford $65 pay-per-view fights and to go to Vegas and see them live.

A compliment is something like a kiss through a veil.

Unlike Chicago or New York, small-town Minnesota did not allow a man's failings to disappear beneath a veil of numbers. People talked. Secrets did not stay secret.