Quotes About Yearning

You let me kiss you, but you won't let me take you out on a date." He shook his head. "Maybe I'm going about this the wrong way. Maybe I need to convince you that you can't live without me." She raised her brows. "How are you going to do that?" "I'll show you." He pressed closer as his hands roamed down her body. "But it might take all night. That okay with you?" "I've got nowhere else to be....

I couldn't get my mind off you all day." He spoke as he yanked her shirt over her head, right where she stood. Once that was gone, he moved his hands down to unfasten her jeans. He pushed them and her underwear to the floor in one motion. "I mowed that whole damn hayfield with a hard-on because of you.

You know, I wouldn't mind more than a kiss." He let out a laugh. "Believe me, neither would I, but not right now." Drink your tea, get some food in your stomach, and, maybe, we'll talk." A frown creased her brow. "Talk?" He had to smile at her persistence. "We'll talk about possibly doing more than kissing, deal?

Emma wanted a real man's hands on her body. Big and rough hands belonging to a strong, tough man who would grab her and throw her onto a bed where he'd spread her thighs wide, yank her head back by the hair, and kiss her breathless while loving her until she was senseless.

He was breathing a little faster himself, his heart pounding as he leaned in a tiny bit more. He hovered just shy of her lips before braving the final space between them and pressing his mouth to hers. He knew immediately from the first taste of her that one tiny kiss wasn't going to be enough.

I-just want you. I want you so bad, all the time. I know I shouldn't, I know I can't, I know it's wrong... but even when you're pissing me off, when you're reminding me of pain and despair and torture-it's there, the wanting. I'm tired of fighting it. I fight so many things, all the time, every day. I don't want to fight this. Not anymore.

Please, ground, just open up and let me fall into an endless crevasse till I hit the center of the earth and combust. Please. Is that too much to ask?

Please, please be some sex-starved nutcase who wants to kidnap me and make me your love slave, I begged silently.

What?" I wanted to climb him like a tree.

Qué enfermo cuento de hadas era, si él estaba hecho exactamente para mí y yo no estaba bien para él?

I wonder if Eve could write letters in Paradise! But, poor Eve, she had no one to write to - no one to whom to tell what Eden was, no beloved child to whom her love traveled through any or all space. Poor Eve!

When you run, run to me

What do you mean? How does he look at me? I don't know. It's like you're a chocolate ice- cream and he doesn't have a spoon.

She turned her face to touch her lips to his neck. "Make a memory with me, Hunter," she whispered huskily. "One more beautiful memory.

Hunter slipped from the bed and grabbed his breeches to pull them on. Bathed in moonlight, the planes of his body were gilded with silver, its contours cast into delineative shadow. Clutching a fur to her chest, Loretta sat up, pretending not to notice. She did, though, and what she saw set her pulse to skittering. Perhaps beautiful wasn't an appropriate adjective for a man, but it was the only word that came to her.

I'll do anything, Hunter. I'll serve you on my knees. I'll be your loyal slave forever. I'll kiss the ground you walk on, anything." He disengaged his hand from hers and grasped her shoulders, hauling her to her feet. "I want you in my buffalo robes, not making kisses in the dirt.

Brushing her hands clean on her skirt, Loretta stared dismally at the fire. Light. Merciful heaven, why had she asked for a fire? He'd be able to see her, which somehow made the thought of undressing in front of him all the more horrid.

Hunter bent his head and pressed his face against her hair. The next instant she felt his lips on her neck. She also felt his hand on her posterior. Frustrated by her high neckline and her full skirts, he made a fist in the calico. "So much wannup. Where are you, Blue Eyes?

You make a smile inside me, that is why I want you. The way a man wants his wife.

Frustrated by her high neckline and her full skirts, he made a fist in the calico. "So much wannup. Where are you, Blue Eyes?" He started to lift her dress. Loretta reached behind her and caught his hand. "Wha--what're you doin'?" He lifted his head, eyes alight with teasing mischief. "I search for my woman. You are in there.

I would have you beside me," he told her huskily.

She splayed her fingers on his chest, shoving with the heels of her hands to lever herself away from him. Hunter tensed his arm at her waist to hold her. He wondered if she was aware of his hardness. Then he felt her heartbeat accelerate and had his answer. He bit back a tender smile. If only she knew how easily he could see her thoughts, like pebbles at the bottom of a clear pool.

The wind brushed her cheeks, catching his name and carrying it away from her. She crossed her arms over her breasts and sobbed, her gaze fixed on the rise. She would never again look at the horizon without seeing him outlined there.

Knowing what he wanted, he went after it with single-minded intensity, until a hoarse moan ripped from her and she arched toward him, her body jerking with every pass of his tongue. His, at last.