Quotes About Attraction

What engraved itself into my consciousness was his face-square and taut, the eyes very big and the well-shaped mouth voluptuous, and the jaw somewhat hard, the whole more truly well proportioned and appealing than he could ever have claimed.

There was something stubborn here, something directed entirely towards our love. And how it tempted me, how it drew from me the most complete devotion.

I found her irresistible, as I found you irresistible. It was the mystery. I wanted to seize it. Move into it. Besides…" "Yes." "She was…a living thing. A being in pain.

I am not a man who loves women of any age, but the sight of her foot, its arch so delicately stretched by the height of the feet, and of her leg, so taut from the pressure, was quite enought to send the most unwelcome and erotic thoughts through my brain.

I was thinking how very attractive he was, I couldn't stop myself, with his yellow hair so thick and long, turning so gracefully at the collar of his coat, and his large probing violet eyes. There are very few creatures on earth who have true violet eyes. The slight difference between his eyes meant nothing. His sun-browned skin was flawless. What he saw in me with his questioning gaze, I couldn't know.

Her cool confidence chilled me. It chilled me that she had so fearlessly touched me, that nothing in my vampire nature repelled her, but then I could well remember how Lestat in all his subdued glory had attracted me. Was she attracted? Had the fatal fascination begun?

Come here so I can see you. Ah, but you are handsome. Come into the light.

I see these mortals in a more attentive light. They are so fresh, so exotic and yet so luscious to me, these mortals; they look like tropical birds must have looked when I was a child; so full of fluttering, rebellious life, I want to clutch them to have it, to make their wings flap in my hands, to capture flight and own it and partake of it.

I had sparked something in him. I could see it in his black eyes. He was drawn to me, drawn to my world, but he couldn't admit it.

He drew closer as if I were a light and he wanted to be in it.

How obdurate and strong he seemed, how seductive; how completely mine.

His sweet delectable human scent was strong and suddenly I saw him divorced from all I knew him. I saw him as prey.

Yes, go out. Talk to her. This is the closest you'll get to that moment; this is your chance. And how delicious to be so physically drawn to her, so laid bare by her presence. It was as if an invisible hand was unzipping his pants.

I who am hard and spare and dedicated to a purpose, felt drawn to her irresistibly; and, knowing it could only culminate in death, I turned away from her at once, wondering if when she gazed into my eyes she found them dead and soulless.

He needed to keep as far away from her as possible, or they'd end up back in bed together or she'd kill him. And he wasn't sure which he preferred.

He was accustomed to women wanting him. What shocked him was the simple fact that he wanted her. Not hot, energetic sex. Not a blow job from a novice. He wanted her with a perplexing intensity he hadn't felt in years. He was the King of Death, and she was his consort. And no amount of common sense could distract him.

You have everyone else at your feet, Miss Lydia. Why should you need me as well? For a moment she couldn't speak, mesmerized by the torment she saw in the dark depths of his eyes. Because you're the one I want, she said in a hushed voice.

You've been pinning for him these last three years, God knows why. Admittedly he's gorgeous, but you're hardly the type to be overset by simple beauty. Why? Because he has sad eyes, she could have said. Because he tries so very hard to be bad, to be mean, to be cruel, and all you have to do is look past the studied ennui to see a hurt little boy trying to emerge. And yes, because he's bloody gorgeous.

She felt hot, strong, alive against him, and he found he had this crazy urge to move his mouth down to the side of her neck, to press it against her, to taste her skin. He wanted to feel her breasts, wanted to pull her T-shirt up and feel her hot skin against his. Damn, he wanted her.

God help her, she wanted him. Not because of his beauty, but because of the odd gentleness in his manner when she didn't expect it, because of the lost look in his green eyes, because of the way he made her feel with just a few words, because of the way he made her melt when he touched her. The jaded rake he presented to the world was just as much a mask as her own was.

He'd done his best to ignore the angry, veiled invitation in the little virgin's eyes, the one she didn't even know she'd issued. But now she'd delivered herself to him, he could hardly resist, now, could he?

He was sitting on her thighs, and his silk breeches were cool against her bare skin. His hands slid up her body, her buttocks, up the line of her back, and she arched in pleasure, like a cat, unable to help herself. You like that, do you? he murmured. I thought you might. You're a sensual creature, dear heart, no matter how you try to fight it. You were made for this.

He'd come to London to find a wife and to have sex, and so far he'd failed at the first and not done terribly well at the second. No one seemed to interest him. Except for the enigma that was Charity Carstairs.

What was it about her that caught at his soul, when he no longer had one?