Quotes About Passion

You are everything that's ever been my favorite thing," she wanted to tell him. "You are my love song, my birthday cake, the sound of ocean waves and French words and a baby's laugh. You're a snow angel, crème brulée, a kaleidoscope filled with glitter. I love you and you'll never catch up, because I've gotten a head start and my heart is racing at light speed." Someday

She huddled against his bare chest, greedily absorbing the heat and scent of him. "Oh, this is dreadful." "Why dreadful?" he asked, smoothing and playing with her curls, his thumb venturing to her temple and grazing the fragile spot. "Because sometimes it's better not to know what one is missing." "Sweet," he whispered, and stole a kiss from her lips. "Sweet... let me stay with you a little longer.

Devon kept his mouth on her, easing the pleasure into relaxation. She summoned just enough strength to reach out and caress his hair. That might have been worth going to hell for, she thought, and didn't realize she had mumbled it aloud until she felt him smile. A

Holly, sweet darling, you can't possibly think I'm going to let you go." He gathered her against him, besieging her with kisses.

Desire," he said, "is always better motivation than fear. Remember that, Quincy.

You believe yourself to be in love with her." "No," Hunt countered in a relaxed manner, "I am in love with her.

It was Evie, Lady St. Vincent, her red hair arranged in in a loose chignon. "I've been looking for you," she said. "We haven't seen you for days,"Lillian said. "Where have you been?" Evie's color deepened. "With St. Vincent." "What have you been... Oh, good God. Never mind.

You fascinate me in every way," Harry whispered, his hand playing gently in her hair. "There are mysteries in your soul that will take a lifetime to uncover . . . and I want to know every one of them.

before. The first thing that Sebastian did

She heard him murmur her name, and then, to her utter astonishment, she saw him sink to his knees and felt his huge hands clutching the folds of silk at her hips. He buried his face against her midriff like an exhausted child. Shocked, Holly reached down to his dark hair. The thick, slightly curling strands were damp against her fingertips, and she stroked them lovingly. "Darling," she whispered over and over, touching the hot nape of his neck.

She tilted her head back in ecstasy as she felt him cover her neck with kisses and gentle bites. "You're mine," he whispered, riding her faster, his rhythm turning impatient. "You belong to me… Holly… forever." "Yes," she moaned as he drove the sensation to another peak. "Tell me." "I love you, Zachary… oh… I need you so much… only you…

I had hooked up my iPod to the speakers. The air was filled with the raw, sexy purr of Etta James. "The thing that's great about the blues," I told Luke, pausing to sip from my glass of wine, "is that it's about feeling, loving, wanting without the brakes on. No one's brave enough to live that way. Except maybe musicians.

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.

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.

He kissed her as if he could breathe her in. Fierce kisses, hard ones, teasingly articulate ones, soft enticing ones, kisses to light bonfires and fill the sky and hold the stars aloft.

Everyone had said from the beginning that the earl of Westcliff and a brash American heiress were the most improbable pairing imaginable. But before long Lillian had discovered that beneath Marcus's outward reserve, there was a man of passion, tenderness, and humor. And for his part, Marcus had seemed to enjoy her irreverence and high-spirited nature.

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.

There was a new, wondering note in his voice as he said, "Kiss me again." "No, I'll hurt you. I'm leaning on your leg." "That's not my leg," came his roguish reply, making her laugh. "You perverse man.

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.

It was more than a kiss...it was a sentence of unbroken kisses, the hot sweet syllables of lips and tongue making her drunk on sensation.

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

Amanda wrestled with him briefly, enjoying the sensation of rubbing along his brawny naked body until his erection rose hot and hard between them. "Very primitive," she said throatily, continuing to squirm until he gave a groaning laugh.

I'd like to do more than sketch you naked. I want to draw directly on you with feather and ink … flowers around your breasts, trails of stars down your thighs." He let his warm lips brush the edge of her ear. "I want to map your body, chart the north, south, east, and west of you. I would—

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—