Quotes About Kiss

The pressure of his mouth eased. He drew away, holding her at arm's length. He filled her vision, broad shoulders and shaggy head framed by the crags and cliffs of Connemara. He had a look of astonished delight on his face, while dangerous banked fires smoldered in his eyes. Still gripping her shoulders, he stepped back and said, "Look me in the eye, Caitlin MacBride, and tell me you've been kissed before.

And aside from that kiss—awkward and way too…slobbery—things were going all right.

They kissed, but it was a gentle kiss and there was no urgency. They were tired and they were...healing. They had time. And time was the most beautiful word of all.

Sweet steel! Come forth from out of your sheath, And glist'ning, speak your powers; Rip up the organs of my breath, And draw my blood in showers! I strike! It quivers in that heart Which drives me to this end; I draw and kiss the bloody dart, My last—my only friend!

If the poems please you more than my lips, I will never give you another kiss.

For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.

For twas not into my ear you whispered, But into my heart. Twas not my lips you kissed, But my soul.

Twas not my lips you kissed, but my soul

It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.

Dès qu'on nous embrasse, il est bon de prévoir, tout de suite, l'instant où nous serons giflés.

As if one kiss would chase her from a position she sorely needed. Men were fools.

But when Anthony kissed her, she felt as if she were losing her mind. And when he kissed her twice, she wasn't even sure if she wanted it back!

Annabel looked down. Her hands were shaking. She couldn't do this. Not yet. She couldn't face the man she'd kissed who happened to be the heir to the man she didn't want to kiss but whos she probably was going to marry. Oh yes, and she could not forget that if she did marry the man she didn't want to kiss, she was likely to provide him with a new heir, thus cutting off the man she did want to kiss.

It seems silly now, but I was so worried you weren't the perfect man of my dreams." "No one is perfect," he said quietly. "I know." She leaned over and planted an impulsive kiss on his cheek. "You're the imperfect man of my heart, and that's even better.

And so, on an otherwise unremarkable Friday afternoon, in the heart of Mayfair, in a quiet drawing room on Mount Street, Colin Bridgerton kissed Penelope Featherington.

His hand was on her arm, and he could feel her skin, feel the soft warmth of it, and then when he looked down, her face was tilted toward his, and her eyes, deep and blue but so completely unmysterious, were gazing up at him, and in truth there was no way—simply no way—he could do anything in that moment but kiss her. Anything else would have been a tragedy.

She'd spent seven long years without so much as a hug, and she was starved for physical affection. She had known what it was like to be touched and kissed, and she had no idea how much she'd missed it until that very moment.

And could it even really be called a kiss? It had been very, very short. And did it mean anything if the kisser (him) had been feeling terribly grateful to the kissee (her) and possibly even indebted, in the most elemental of ways? She'd saved his life, after all. A kiss was not entirely out of order. Plus, he had said, "Forgive me." Did it count as a kiss if the kisser had asked for forgiveness? Honoria thought not.

One would think her tired mind would go utterly blank, but the opposite was true. She could not stop thinking about the highwayman. And his kiss. And his identity. And his kiss. And if she would meet him again. And that he'd kissed her. And-

It was a soft kiss, a gentle kiss, but it was also a promise. Of love, of respect, and of determination. Together they would change the world.

And then, very sweetly, he kissed her. It tasted like the past. It tasted like her very heart.

When Anthony kissed her, she felt as if she were losing her mind. And when he kissed her twice, she wasn't even sure if she wanted it back! -Kate's thoughts

And so kissing her became a matter of self-preservation. It was simple. If he did not kiss her now, if he did not consume her, he would die. It sounded melodramatic, but at the moment he would have sworn it to be true. The hand of desire twisting around his gut would burst into flame and take him along with it.

he was falling in love with her, but he had never been a man to speak of his feelings, and the words choked in his throat. So he kissed her one last time, truly and deeply, hoping she recognized it for what it was, an offering of his very soul. Yours, he thought. I am yours.