Quotes About Intensity

How is he in bed? Gladiator or poet? - Hmmm... A poetic gladiator.

She was singed, bleeding, bruised, and furiously alive.

Hotter than a fuck in hell.

Sometimes I just want to gobble you whole, eat you alive. You're so gorgeous. You're so beautiful.

Roarke glanced over at the monitor briefly, saw Eve on screen facing a woman who'd tried to make herself her twin. The hair, the eyes. She didn't come close, he thought, then forced himself to look away from the beat of his heart, and work to save her. Roarke tuned it out, all of it. Just the sound of Eve's voice - not the words, just the sound of her voice - was all he let in as he worked to lift the most important lock of his life.

You just pounded yourself into me with all the finesse of a sweaty celibate breaking fast with a rented sex droid.

Do you always drive this way?" "What way?" "As if we're trying to outrun an earthquake.

She could and had faced an armed laser in the hands of a mad mutant mercenary with less fear than she faced such unswerving emotion...

Love swamped her. It always seemed to come in huge, unexpected waves that left her flailing helplessly.

Her eyes met his in the mirror. When I take her down, she's going to pay for this. Eve tapped fingers lightly over her jaw. And she won't look so fucking pretty when I toss her in a cage. Girl fight? Can I watch? Pervert. She stepped away, into the shower, and ordered the jets on full at a blistering temperature.

The sudden power and punch of the kiss rocked her back on her heels, and made her wonder if little beams of sunlight were shooting out of her fingertips.

Bet you didn't see that coming," she murmured. "I didn't, no. If I'd realized rapping your head would turn you into an insatiable sexual maniac who'd use me so brutally, I'd have cold-cocked you long before this.

It stunned him how much he could want her still, baffled him that she could be blind to how helpless he was under the clawing need for her. It infuriated him that she could, simply by existing, be his weakness. 'Hold

Why do they stare? They're always staring. Like dolls," she said as they walked into the building. "Or sharks." "I

I don't give a rat's warty ass she's dead. It only means she's a dead cunt." "That's a strong opinion." "And the only kind worth having. I threatened to shove a stick up her twat and light it on fire just yesterday. Maybe the day before. I lose track as there was rarely a day that went by she didn't make me want to strangle her with my bare hands after I'd beaten her in the face with a rusty shovel.

Her body arched backward so forcefully that he almost lost her to the sea. He was so startled by her sudden

Everything in me skips and scrambles when you look at me like that." "You're mine." And that brought him something beyond excitement, something deeper than passion.

His curses delivered in a low, vicious voice, became steadily more inventive. And, she observed with some fascination, more Irish.

Love struck her, as it did often and without warning. Not the steady day-to-day feeling she'd grown used to, but the hot, wild spurt of it that geysered up and filled her with so many feelings they couldn't be separated. Delight, confusion, possessiveness, lust, and a kind of smugness that butted right up against wonder.

turbulent eyes. "I didn't realize.

Whenever she cried, he thought, it was a storm, a passionate tumult. Rarely were there a few easy, quiet tears for Eve. Rarely was anything easy for Eve.

You're a dead man, Roarke. You don't know it, but you've already stopped breathing. The walking dead. And when you finally realize you're dead, and drop to the ground and you're laying there, I'm going to step over your cold, lifeless body, open the doors of that department store you call a closet, and I torch it. Eve Dallas

But he cannot see a connection between the end of yearning and the end of poetry. Is that what growing up amounts to: growing out of yearning, of passion, of all intensities of the soul?

On the peak of passion, there's no place for doubts.