Quotes About Yearning

She could dream of happy endings. For him, if not for her.

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.

He slid his arm under her waist, hauled her up, and entered her that way, sliding in deep, so deep, and her guttural cry was a heartbreaking pleasure. He couldn't stop. She wouldn't let him. She twisted her head around and kissed him, and he wanted to keep on and on, to fill her mouth, her body, her soul with him. To have her take everything and then want more.

I want to wake up with you in the morning, I want to fight with you in the afternoon, and I want to make love on any and every available surface in this place. And then I want to do it all over again. Come upstairs with me, Sophie. I'll keep you warm. I'll keep the darkness away.

Dawn couldn't come soon enough. He had to get her out of his life as quickly as possible. It was becoming the most important thing—more important than breathing, living. He needed to get away from her, fast. Because he didn't want to let her go.

He couldn't have known. The moonlight wasn't enough to illuminate the room, and the tears that spilled silently down her cheeks didn't touch him. But suddenly the kiss softened, the hands gentled on her, the lips coaxed and teased and healed. And without any more thought she was kissing him back, reaching for him with her mouth while her hands were held back, seeking him out with her tongue, calling him to her in the only way she could.

Voglio toccarti, scoprire il tuo corpo, imparare come sei fatto, di cosa hai bisogno. Voglio renderti pazzo di desiderio come lo sono io. Voglio te, tutto quello che puoi darmi, tutto quello che io posso darti, e voglio che questa notte duri per sempre. Sei in grado di darmi tutto questo?

At least it was dark. His eyes drifted down over her body, the ripe curves in the moonlight, and a dreamy expression crossed his face, just before he leaned forward and put his mouth against the side of her neck, tasting her hammering pulse.

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.

When she stopped long enough to think about it she knew the wanting ran through him as deeply as it ran through her.

She wanted more, and yet his kiss was like poison to her. It could lead to things, to feelings that could destroy her utterly.

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

There was only one problem with all this. Seducing well-born virgins was universally frowned upon by society. It was just lucky he didn't give a tinker's damn about society. Because he meant to have her, and he was getting tired of waiting. Last night he'd had a taste, and that taste lingered in his senses, driving him mad. He would have her, and soon. The question was, would he ever be ready to let her go?

And she thought what a clean, simple life she would have led if it weren't for love.

I write because I want to have more than one life.

She loved them so much that she felt a kind of hollowness on the inner surface of her arms whenever she looked at them-an ache of longing to pull them close and hold them tight against her.

People imagine that missing a loved one works kind of like missing cigarettes. The first day is really hard but the next day is less hard and so forth, easier and easier the longer you go on. But instead it's like missing water. Every day, you notice the person's absence more.

I liked to dwell on these shortcomings now. It wasn't only that I was wondering why they had ever annoyed me. I was hoping they would annoy me still, so that I could stop missing her.

She said, 'Red, I want to learn every step of you, and dance till the end of the night.

She loved them so much that she felt a kind of hollowness on the inner surface of her arms whenever she looked at them—an ache of longing to pull them close and hold them tight against her. The three little boys were such a clumped-together tangle, always referred to as a single unit, but Abby knew how different each was from the next.

that was what happened when you were thinking of someone: every random stranger seemed to be that someone at first glance.

And all at once I had no one to trade looks with.

But still, you know how it is when you're missing a loved one. You try to turn every stranger into the person you were hoping for.

you know how it is when you're missing a loved one. You try to turn every stranger into the person you were hoping for.