Quotes About Attraction

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 want you any way I can get you. Not because you're beautiful or clever or kind or adorable, although devil knows you're all those things. I want you because there's no one else like you, and I don't ever want to start a day without seeing you.

I respect you," he murmured. "and your views. I think of you as an equal. I respect your brains, and all those big words you like to use. But I also want to rip your clothes off and have sex with you until you scream and cry and see God." -Jack Travis (Smooth Talking Stranger)

Mysteries of attraction could not always be explained through logic. Sometimes the fractures in two separate souls became the very hinges that held them together.

I wanted to be the kind of woman who would attract a certain kind of man that I could respect. That was my thinking. It had to do with the kind of couple I would be a part of.

Mitch had a particular way with women—a formula of giving and withholding that almost always managed to hook them. Getting them to talk about themselves was the first step; remaining enigmatic was the second. There were other steps, but he used only the first two during that encounter.

John Huntington eyed Suzanne Barron across her very stylish desk in her very stylish office. She was stylish herself—classy

He'd fallen for her from the first moment he'd set eyes on her, blown away by her beauty. Well, that had been lust. But now that he knew her, had seen firsthand what a fine woman she was, had felt her warmth, it seemed impossible to him that he could ever desire another woman. This was it. Nicole was it.

Her hand lifted without any volition on her part, as if it were the hand itself that wanted to be held by his. He gently grasped it in both hands, instead of the impersonal handshake she'd been expecting. His hands were as hot as a furnace. Slowly, watching her every second, he brought her hand to his mouth and—oh my God—kissed it. Something inside her, something she'd never even suspected existed, pinged to life. Heat, excitement . . . desire.

It wasn't the first time he'd met someone that made him want to kneel, to crawl, to submit, but it was the strongest reaction he'd had in a long time. And she had no qualms about manhandling him. His wrists still ached from where she'd grabbed him, and he wanted to savor that.

Anita approached their target. Deon Simpson couldn't keep his focus on his mistress as Anita got closer. Jocelyn watched his dark eyes drift from his date's face to Anita's curvy form. She hadn't worn stockings, and her brown skin was smooth and supple, glimpses of it flashing from the slit in her short skirt as she walked. Simpson's eyes flitted back to the mistress, then once more to Anita. When

We are two messed-up people destined to destroy each other, but I can't walk away. No. Can't isn't the issue. I simply don't want to.

I think it's the whole 'bad boy who's so good but destined to break your heart' fantasy. Which doesn't sound like much of a fantasy when you put the broken heart part in the picture, but it is. It so is.

Isn't that what we all want? To be with someone who consumes us? Who makes us want to give them all that we are, even though it's terrifying?

I'd already decided you were mine, You just didn't know it yet

He wants you. I want you. I can't walk away from you, Amy, and I have this sense that you could bolt at any minute. And yes, you're right. I'm being barbaric. And intense. That's who I am and I can't be anyone but me. When I want something, I go after it. And baby, I want you, and all I can say is you might be smart to run before I get any more into you, but please don't.

The two men's gazes lock and I am suddenly swimming in a pool of testosterone, in need of a life raft.

He's a tall drink of poison

Sorry, man. Unless you get a whole lot prettier, which is doubtful, you aren't my type.

Something I've wanted to call you for a very long time." "You Tarzan, me Jane?" she asked, teasing him.

Ian stepped out to where he knew I could clearly see and identify his tall, dark, and dangerous self.

He smiled at me with that grin…and I floated across the floor to him, my handsome prince.

Our faces were overly close, and in that moment something more passed between us. I'd never felt this kind of thing with a guy – such a connection. I knew, in my head, that we were practically strangers; but this thing – whatever it was – made me feel known. Seen. Acknowledged and appreciated and admired.

Saints, woman, what you do to me... Zara, you're turning me inside-out.