Quotes About Intimacy

My eyes are only for him.

Use me, Lisa," he encouraged softly. "Take whatever you want.

You're Mac, he says. And I'm Jericho. And nothing else matters. Never will. You exist in a place that is beyond all rules for me. Do you understand that?

I'm not surprised to feel myself trembling. I'm touching my goddess.

I'm the one who will always watch over you. Always be there to fuck you back to your senses when you need it, the one who will never let you die. I pull my shirt over my head and kick off my shoes. "What more could a woman ask?

One day you will kiss a man you can't breathe without, and find that breath is of little consequence.

He pulls me around and kisses me. "You're Mac," he says. "And I'm Jericho. And nothing else matters. Never will. You exist in a place that is beyond all rules for me. Do you understand that?" I do. Jericho Barrons just told me he loves me.

V'lane: Are you busy tomorrow MacKayla ? Barrons: She's working on old texts with me. V'lane: Ah. Old texts. A banner day at the bookstore. Barrons: We're translating Kama Sutra...with interactive aids.

When you know who I am. Let me be your man.

Grey had seen every ugly, petty, disgusting part of her and that's why he was her best friend.

He rested his hand on Zadie's leg. She looked down at it. Did he mean to put it there? Maybe he just needed a place to rest his hand. He'd been playing guitar all night. Perhaps his wrist was tired.

I love to wear lingerie. The problem is that men always rip it off too quickly. When women are dolled up in lingerie they feel sexy. So let us wear it for five minutes.

Zelnora," he rasped back, "the bullfrog has croaked it. I want your dewy pussy clamped down around my prick.

He slurped unashamed like a cow in a lake, as though her quim were the most ambrosial trough of sauterne imaginable. Was this some strange Indian thing? It was unbelievably shameful yet arousing to have his beautiful pointed nose buried in her sex, lapping away like a mountain cat.

You could toast marshmallows on the warmth of his regard.

She bit her lips, concentrating, wishing he'd go and sit on one of the chairs before the fireplace. Or stand at the window and watch the full moon. Anything but sit there so close she could smell the sandalwood soap he used. Night had brought a shadow of a beard to his face. He no longer looked every inch the earl, but more a coach robber, someone who would march her out to the glen and kiss her until she fell to her knees. He would show no mercy to her. Instead, he would make her beg.

There's something I gotta tell you," he said in a confidential tone as he leaned toward her. His face was close to hers, too close. He was making her uncomfortable again, as he no doubt intended. That notion stiffened her spine. "What?" she all but snapped. "I had a major case of the hots for you when I was in high school. I still do.

It was one of those things—until you knew a person well, you didn't really use their name. Names had power. Names conveyed meaning.

It's strange to own anything, Beverly thinks, even your flesh, that nobody outside yourself ever touches or sees.

Being unconscious with somebody, that's a big deal.

We all rejoice in hearing those 3 words: I love you. Beneath these 3 words are another 3: I get you. It's when we feel understood that we feel most loved.

Man and woman are two locked caskets, of which each contains the key to the other.

A great man once wrote, "Absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones, as the wind blows out the candle and blows up the bonfire." If only I were as eloquent as Mr. de la Rochefoucauld...I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. And I want you. And I need your kiss. And your touch on my skin like a man needs water. Always.

Chris's tongue traced a path of fire down Tia's neck. His hands sought her breasts, kneading the soft flesh.