Quotes About Attraction

Mercy, but he smelled good. All piney and musky and manly. There should be a law.

It's odd how fast a beautiful woman can turn a guy's mind into lint storage. Just by being a beautiful woman.

She had that light about her that turned people around her into moths.

He was broad-shouldered, dark-haired and dark-eyed; more than once, women had been noted openly regarding him, and not just immigrant women or those who smoked in public.

The women who repeatedly fall for creepy men, ignore good men who are attracted to them, and then blame men for their social woes

A tall, straight-bodied, and by no means ill-favored young Highlander at close range is breath-taking.

Jamie, I panted. He pushed his kilt out of the way and pressed my hand against him. Bloody Christ, I said, impressed despite myself. My sense of propriety slipped another notch. Fighting gives ye a terrible cockstand, after. Ye want me, do ye no?

I wouldna cross the road to see a scrawny woman if she was stark naked and dripping wet. ~Jamie Fraser

What is it about ye, Sassenach, I wonder?" he said conversationally, eyes still fixed on Myers. "What is what about me?" He turned then, and gave me a narrow eye. "What it is that makes every man ye meet want to take off his breeks within five minutes of meetin' ye." "Well, if you don't know, my dear," I said, "no one does.

He pressed me firmly to him, and I could feel that he was more than ready to get on with the business at hand. With some surprise, I realized that I was ready too. In fact, whether it was the result of the late hour, the wine, his own attractiveness, or simple deprivation, I wanted him quite badly.

I am thinking that you're verra beautiful, Sassenach, he said softly. Maybe if one has a taste for gooseflesh on a large scale, I said tartly, stepping out of the tub and reaching for the cup. He grinned suddenly at me, teeth flashing white in the dimness of the cellar. Oh, aye, he said. Well, you're speaking to the only man in Scotland who has a terrible cockstand at sight of a plucked chicken.

Is it usual, what it is between us when I touch you?

What is it about ye, Sassenach, I wonder?" he said conversationally, eyes still fixed on Myers. What is what about me?" He turned then, and gave me a narrow eye. What it is that makes every man ye meet want to take off his breeks within five minutes of meetin' ye.

Flies round a honeypot would be nothin' to it, lad! Penniless and nameless as ye are now, the lasses still sigh after ye—I've seen 'em!" More snorting. "Even this Sassenach wench can no keep away from ye, and her a new widow!

I like ye fat, Sassenach," he said softly. "Fat and juicy as a plump wee hen. I like it fine.

He was generally aware that he had been blessed in her beauty; even in her usual homespun, knee-deep in mud from her garden, or stained and fierce with the blood of her calling, the curve of her bones spoke to his own marrow, and those whisky eyes could make him drunk with a glance. Besides, the mad collieshangie of her hair made him laugh.

Ye ken how to pick a good lass, MacKenzie? Start at the bottom and work your way up!

Dear God," he said, still softly. "I couldna look at ye, Sassenach, and keep my hands from you, nor have ye near me, and not want ye.

Diana Gabaldon

To some extent, emotions are universal and can be treated that way; no matter what the participants' orientation or preference, they have sex for the same reasons and can experience the same array of emotions in the process. But there are three important distinctions to be made: 1. The logistics of physiology 2. The basics of sexual attraction 3. Cultural impact on character and situation

He didn't speak for a bit, but his weight drew me closer, like a moon pulled near to its planet. I lay quiet, my hand on him, my hip against his—flesh of his flesh.

I knew Frank hadn't been celibate since my disappearance. In his late forties, he was still lean and muscular, dark and sleek, a very handsome man. Women clustered about him at cocktail parties like bees round a honeypot, emitting small hums of sexual excitement.

When we met, that night aboard the Porpoise—I'm glad you didn't know who I was. I Ã¢â'¬Â¦ liked you. Then.

She's goin' about now bare as a wee lassie?" "She says," I replied delicately, "that men find it erotic.