Quotes About Passion

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Her heart was walloping away in her throat, and she was certain he could feel it, as his fingers lingered there. Nearly everything on her body that could stand erect was erect now, clamoring for his touch. The hair on the back of her neck, her arms. Her nipples. Are you afraid, Genevieve? No. You do enjoy saying my name. It has a lilt. I see. Her voice was faint. Because you should consider being a little afraid.

She knew again the delicious little frisson of fear that came with walking the edge of something she knew better than to cross. She had forgotten what this was like. How a man could heighten every moment, remind you of the point of possessing sight and smell, let alone skin and nerve endings and a heart. That a man could so easily make your heart sing like a bloody lark or plummet like a stone.

Backward now?' he suggested. 'Are you going to call out our lovemaking like a billiards game?

This man offered her forever. And if Prescott had asked a month ago...If he'd asked the day before she'd encountered Jonathan Redmond at midnight outside the Duke of Greyfolk's house... Ah, but she was a different woman now. One kiss had changed that. And a ballroom orgasm.

He reached out and drew his finger lightly from her ankle right up the curve of her calf. When his finger reached the crook of her knee, he stopped. Astonished to see it there. Silently, a little frantically, he considered excuses: An insect was crawling up your stocking, Susannah. I was checking to see if you were injured, Susannah. I was--- Don't stop. It was her voice. Husky, abstracted. And the words roared like a brushfire over his senses.

Just a little, a voice in his head urged him. He could show her just a little of passion, he reasoned; he could show her gently, skillfully, give her just a taste. Because lord knew what would become of her, and what sort of man would ultimately have the taking of her. He was certain he could give her pleasure, and she deserved that. He was distantly amused, even a little alarmed, at how reason and lust had conspired to make his desire to crawl beneath Susannah Makepeace's skirts seem noble.

Such a blue, his eyes were. Like the center of a flame, as though some internal furnace lit them. She was tempted to hold her hand up to them, to see if she could feel heat.

She did draw and paint and did both diligently, but possessed modest talent. She didn't mind. Her gift and passion lay in the observation and recognition of talent and beauty, whether it was found in the work of an Italian master or the profile of a viscount-to-be.

She was the love of his life. "Hell.

She let him know how much she liked what he was doing by scoring his back with her nails and crying out with pleasure. "Oh, God." "Nay, lass. Connor.

Come to me Elizabeth. Let me make you mine...

All the man had to do was look at her and her mind turned to lettuce. One kiss and she wilted into his arms.

I'm going to kiss you senseless enough not to notice my attire. -Duncan to Madelyne

You're the most confusing woman," he whispered on a sigh. "God help me, I do love you, though.

what are you doing? making love to you. roll over katie. but we...you're... sure am. we can't.. it's just one night, right? yes. night's not over

For us, swimming is more than a pastime. It is our passion, our solace, our addition of choice. The one thing we look forward to, more than anything else. It's the only time I feel truly alive. It keeps us centered and focused. It slows down the gain process, it lowers our blood pressure, it improves our stamina, our memory, our lung capacity

These are the times when we aficionados of the gas stove know we are on the side of God.

If there's a sexier sound on this planet than the person you're in love with cooing over the crepes you made for him, I don't know what it is.

How can he do this? If you were mine, I would fight to keep you. I would die, before I let you go.

If she were here I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off her. I would hold her so close she'd beg me to let her breathe. I'd kiss her so hard she'd plead for mercy. I'd unfasten her clothing and lie with her on that hard bed, and what was between us would be as far above the ordinary congress between man and woman as the stars are above their pale reflections in the lake below.

You are the blood in my veins, and the beating of my heart. You are my first waking thought, and my last sigh before sleeping. You are - you are bone of my bone, and breath of my breath.

Don't you long for something different to happen, something so exciting and new it carries you along with it like a great tide, something that lets your life blaze and burn so the whole world can see it? Something that touches you with joy or with terror, that lifts you out of your safe, little path and onto a great, wild road whose ending nobody knows? Don't you ever long for that?

You know not, yet, the sort of love that strikes like a lightning bold; that clutches hold of you by the heart, as irrevocably as death; that becomes the lodestar by which you steer the rest of your life.