Quotes About Intimacy

He loved her. He'd said it, and even though she couldn't quite believe it, she believed *him*.

Her brown eyes, wise and warm and undeniably perceptive, focused on his. For one split moment he had the bizarre thought that she somehow knew everything about him, from the moment of his birth to his certainty of his own death. It seemed, in that second, with her face tipped up toward his and her lips slightly parted, that she, more than anyone else who would ever walk this earth, truly knew him. It was thrilling. But more than that, it was terrifying.

Colin leaned forward. "I really did not want to leave my wife.

He did things to her, she realized. Strange, shivery things that left her breathless. He need only to look at her—not in his usual, conversational way, but to really look at her, to let his eyes settle on hers, deeply blue and insightful, and she felt naked, her soul bared.

means that love isn't about being afraid that it will all be snatched away. Love's about finding the one person who makes your heart complete, who makes you a better person than you ever dreamed you could be. It's about looking in the eyes of your wife and knowing, all the way to your bones, that she's simply the best person you've ever known.

He needed her the way he needed air.

You have to say it," he said. "If you feel it, then you have to say it. I'm a greedy bastard, and I want it all." She looked up at him, her eyes bright. "I love you.

How love feels," he clarified. "Do you think it could possibly be different for different people? If you loved someone, truly and deeply, wouldn't it feel like…like everything?

She was here, with him, and she felt like heaven. The soft scent of her hair, the slight taste of salt on her skin— she was, he thought, born to rest in the shelter of his arms. And he was born to hold her. -Benedict's thoughts about Sophie

He loved her. It was the strangest, most wonderful sensation. It was exhilarating. It was as if the world had suddenly become open to him. Clear. He understood. He understood everything he needed to know, and it was all right there in her eyes.

What are you smiling about?" she asked. He drew back a few inches, cupping her face with both hands. "How did you know I was smiling?" "I could feel it on my lips." He brought a finger to those lips, tracing the outline, then running the edge of his fingernail along the plump skin. "You make me smile," he whispered. "When you don't make me want to scream, you make me smile." -Sophie & Benedict

The waltz allowed him to get just close enough to her to detect that maddening scent of lemons, and he inhaled it as if it would save his life.

You are so beautiful,' he whispered. She must have heard those words before, thousands of times, but he wanted her to hear them from *him*.

He was comfortable with her. He could make the sort of stupid comments that were only a little bit funny and made no sense. The kind one made when one didn't have to weigh every word and worry about judgment or scorn.

it can often be most difficult to share one's fears with those one most deeply loves.

Most people don't laugh so much while they're kissing." He grinned boyishly and tweaked her nose. Belle tweaked his back. "They don't? How unfortunate for them.

I love you so much it scares me. If I could give you the world, you know I would do it, don't you?

And as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear, she had the strangest sensation, almost as if she could see her entire future laid out before her. Each day was richer and fuller than the last, and every day she was falling, falling, falling . . .

She loved him, and he loved her, and if there was anything more, anything else important in her world, it just didn't matter. Not right there, not right then.

Lucy could feel herself slipping, sliding into need, falling into a hazy place of love and desire where right was not quite identifiable from wrong.

It means that love isn't about being afraid that it will all be snatched away. Love's about finding the one person who makes your heart complete, who makes you a better person than you ever dreamed you could be. It's about looking in the eyes of your wife and knowing, all the way to your bones, that she's simply the best person you've ever known.

He kissed her as if he could not get close enough, as if he could never get close enough. As if he would never let her go.

Have you heard of la petite mort?" "The little death?" "It's what the French call it. A metaphor, I assure you. I have always thought it more an affirmation of life. Or perhaps a reason for living." And then, with all the wicked promise he felt in his soul, he looked up at her through his lashes and murmured, "Shall I show you?

he was examining her as if he wanted to catalogue her every feature. "I wanted to see you," he whispered. He touched her cheek, then smoothed his thumb down the line of her jaw. "You're always in motion. I don't get to just see you.