Quotes About Intimacy

I love: the way her eyes spark when we're talking or when she's telling me something she wants me to know, the way she mouths the words herself when she's reading and concentrating, the way she looks at me as if there's only me, as if she can past the flesh and bone and bullshit right into the me that's there, the one I don't even see myself.

I remember her hand in mine and how that felt, as if something and someone belonged to me.

It's at that moment that I can't help myself,even though she maybe hates me right now.I pull her in and kiss her the way I've always wanted to kiss her,a lot more R-rated and PG-13.I can feel her tense at first,not wanting to kiss me back ,and the thought of it breaks my heart.Before I can pull away,I feel her bend and then melt into me as I melt into her under the warm Indiana sun.And she's still here ,and she isn't going anywhere,and it will be okay.

I feel the way his hand,warm and firm,fits around mine.He may keep changing,but that never does.

Or we can make out.

As she rattles on, about Violet, about Gemma Sterling, about the Bartlett Dirt, I don't say anything else. I suddenly don't want Bren or Charlie to talk about Violet, because I want to keep her to myself, like the Christmas I was eight—back when Christmases were still good—and got my first guitar, which I named No Trespassing, as in no one could touch it but me.

Across the seat our eyes are holding hands.

Actually, standing next to you makes it feel as high as Everest.

At least it feels that way standing here with you." He closes his blue eyes and breathes in. When he opens them again, he says, "Actually, standing next to you makes it feel as high as Everest." I

I can already feel myself falling hard, something I've been down to do. All because she smiled at me.

He kisses me again and leans sexily against the door, as if he knows how good he looks.

I remember her smile and her laugh when I was my best self and she looked at me like I could do no wrong and was whole. I remember how she looked at me the same way even when I wasn't. I remember her hand in mine and how that felt, as if something and someone belonged to me.

I know the way you move. I know the way you look at me. I see you see me, and you're the only one that looks at me that way. Whether I'm with you or away from you, I don't have to think about it or put the puzzle pieces together. It's just you. That's what I know.

I love: the way her eyes spark when we're talking or when she's telling me something she wants me to know, the way she mouths the words to herself when she's reading and concentrating, the way she looks at me as if there's only me, as if she can see past the flesh and bone and bullshit right into the me that's there, the one I don't even see myself.

Your identifier is you. I remember your eyes. Your mouth. The freckles on both cheeks that look like constellations. I know your smiles, at least three of them, and at least eight of your expressions, including the ones you only do with your eyes. If I could draw, I would draw you, and I wouldn't need to look at you to do it. Because your face is stuck in my mind.

I know the way you move. I know the way you look at me. I see you see me, and you're the only one who looks at me that way. Whether I'm with you or away from you, I don't have to think about it or put the puzzle pieces together. It's just you. That's what I know.

And then, because I'm now the one thinking too much, and because she is different from all other girls and because I really, really don't want to screw this up, I concentrate on kissing her on the banks of the Blue Hole, in the sunshine, and I let that be enough.

My mouth is an inch from hers, and I wait for her to slap me or push me away, but then she closes her eyes, and that's when I know—I'm in. Okay

It's so lovely to be lovely in Private.

And the children seem ideally matched, they know each other through and through, like brother and sister." "I doubt if I'd say that made for an ideal match," said Brother Cadfael honestly.

I did see pictures of Mom posing nude in the backyard Reno left on the dresser one time and I had an intimate look at my mother.

I love you, he said, his voice catching. When I thought you were going to die, I wanted to die.

I woke up this morning," Gabriel said, "thinking of nothing more than rolling over and pulling you into my arms and kissing you again. Kissing: only kissing. As if I were a green boy of fourteen. In case you don't realize it, Kate, kissing is not a man's usual inclination in the morning.

Quand mes mains te prennent, elles ne tiennent qu'un rien de ton être... Où es-tu donc tout entière, pour que j'aille t'y chercher ?