Quotes About Intensity

You'll have to think of a way to solve this, Evie. Think of something fast... because otherwise..." He paused to nip hungrily at her ear, "... otherwise I'm about to screw you senseless.

Annabelle moistened her dry lips. "You... you mustn't stare at me like that." Soft as the murmur was, he caught it. "With you here, nothing else is worth looking at.

It's one thing to spend an afternoon in bed with me," Christopher said darkly. "It's another to experience day-to-day life with a lunatic." "I know all about living with lunatics. I'm a Hathaway.

Of all the Hathaways, Poppy was the one Catherine had always felt the most comfortable with. Poppy was a warm and talkative young woman who loved order and routine. Hers was an essentially sunny and accepting nature, providing a necessary balance to Harry's driven intensity.

This was getting bloody ridiculous, he thought savagely. If she became any more adorable, endearing, or delectable, something was going to get broken.

Querías amor. Ahora lo tienes. Te quiero lo suficiente, mi amor es tan grande como el de una docena de personas. Tal vez haya algo que no estaría dispuesto a hacer por ti, alguna regla o ley que no quebrantaría, pero que me aspen si se me ocurre cuál podría ser.

before. The first thing that Sebastian did

Do you have information regarding his whereabouts, Mr. Severin?" she asked unsteadily. Tom looked directly at her then, the nonchalant mask temporarily falling away. His intense, searching gaze somehow burned through the numbness of the past twenty-four hours. "No, sweetheart," he said gently, as if there where no one else in the room. The deliberate endearment caused a few breaths to catch audibly, including hers.

Daca-mi dau voie sa te sarut o data, ar urma inca o data, apoi inca una, si curand n-am mai putea sa ne oprim.

My God, I can't stand this! I can't let you go out every day, fearing every minute that something might happen to you, knowing that every ounce of sanity I've got left is hinged on your well-being. I can't feel this way…it's too strong…oh, hell. I'll turn into a raving lunatic. I'll never be of use to anyone again. If I could just reduce it somehow…love you only half this much…I might be able to live with it.

Her heart skipped a beat, and another, as she stared into the darkest eyes she had ever seen, a brown so deep it looked black, shadowed by thick lashes and set deep in a complexion of rich umber. His brutal handsomeness unnerved her. He could have been Lucifer himself, sitting there.

I can't be a gentleman," he said hoarsely. "Not even for you." "You don't have to be a gentleman. Only gentle." No one had ever asked him for such a thing. To his despair, he realized it wasn't in him. His hands gripped the edges of the desk until the wood threatened to crack. " Cariad ... there's nothing gentle about how I want you." He was startled by the endearment that had slipped out, one he had never used with anyone.

She couldn't imagine how she could have forgotten a man this attractive. His features were strong and decisively formed, too masculine to be called beautiful, too striking to be ordinary. And his eyes were the rich sky-blue of morning glories, even more intense against the sun-glazed color of his skin. There was something extraordinary about him, a kind of barely leashed vitality that nearly caused her to take a step backward, the force of it was so strong.

The feel of her, soft and small and alive, caused him to groan with tortured relief. His hands raked over her, his mouth dragging hungrily over her hair, skin, clothes, as if he would devour her whole. "Grant," she gasped, flinching from the force of his kisses. He gave an animal growl of pleasure and need, crushing his lips hard over hers.

All the fires of hell could burn for a thousand years and it wouldn't equal what I feel for you in one minute of the day.

Those mesmerizing eyes stared right into hers with an intensity that caused her brain to do an abrupt control-alt-delete.

It had been too long since he had bedded a woman. Sir Ross Cannon could think of no other explanation for his reaction to Sophia Sydney... a response so powerful that he was forced to sit behind his desk to conceal a sudden, uncontrollable erection. Perplexed, he stared intently at the woman, wondering why her mere presence was enough to ignite such raging heat inside him. No one ever caught him off guard this way.

Her heart beat hard in her chest, until she felt the echo of its pounding in every part of her.

I'm not good enough for you. But no one is. And most men, good or bad, have limits to what they would do, even for someone they love. I have none. No God, no moral code, no faith in anything. Except you. You're my religion. I would do anything you asked. I would fight, steal, kill for you. I would—

He couldn't wait—not one second more—and entered her with one long hard thrust. He was so careful with her, always, but this time he couldn't be careful, couldn't be gentle; he needed to possess her the way he needed to breathe.

They had a fabulous sex life. Drake was an attentive, tender lover who took his time in pleasing her. But every once in a while something in him changed and she caught a glimpse of the truly dangerous man he really was. She hadn't tamed him, not one bit. He just chose to show her a tender side he said he'd only discovered with her. But sometimes the tiger in him growled and clawed its way to the surface. And then the sex was incandescent.

The rest of what she wanted to say was lost in his mouth. A red mist rose in his head. Fast as lightning, he picked her up, stripped her, pulled off his sweatshirt, pushed his sweat pants down—he deliberately hadn't put on underwear, either—and embedded his c#ck in her. Just shoved it in because he'd die if he didn't have his c#ck in her now.

She whimpered, the sound lost in Mike's mouth. She was entirely his, completely without willpower or volition. His mouth ate at hers, his shoulders curved in to her like some powerful wall of flesh. He moved his hips against her in short, stabbing movements, hands lifting her hips against his.

Yes, she, Claire Parks, who by all rights should have been dead these many years, her bleached bones rotting in the cold ground, was turned on. Waves of heat rolled through her body in liquid surges. The heat became almost incandescent in her breasts and in her loins, but her entire body burned and tingled with heat and life.