Quotes About Vulnerability

She caught his wrist, stilling the hand on her thigh. Her eyes were a little desperate. What do you mean to do? I'd like to show you my way of making love, he said gently.

She couldn't very well get up and leave him without causing a scene, but she dearly wanted to. "Well, then, in the interests of fairness, perhaps you ought to know, Your Grace, that I have no intention of yielding the field to you." Beside her he inclined his head a fraction of an inch. "Then en garde, Miss Greaves.

I'm afraid I'm rather used to females making themselves shameless for me.

I don't want you hurt," he said gruffly. "I know." Her smile was winsome. "But falling isn't the end of the world. I may fall, it's true—in fact, I probably will fall—but really, one can't live without falling now and again.

She glanced at the man quickly. "Thank you." She meant to say more, but something was caught in her throat. Her eyes stung. "Weep not, proud Diana," Maximus murmured. "The moon will not allow it." "No." She agreed, swiping fiercely at her cheeks. "There's no need for tears yet.

I want to make you weep. I want all your pleasure, Iris, all your pain, everything you are. Come for me. And she felt herself bow with the stark white bliss of her epiphany, the shattering realization of his words and his hands and his mouth. She was gasping for breath, shaking, lost, unseeing. The center of her being pulsing with pleasure.

Pay heed: the artichoke is a shy vegetable. She covers herself in spine-tipped leaves that must be carefully peeled away, and underneath shields her treasure with a barricade o' soft needles. They must be tenderly, but firmly, scraped aside. Ye must be bold, for if yer not, she'll never reveal her soft heart.

Nothing leveled a man quite like being unable to protect his woman.

Come with me, sweet girl. She blinked up at him, wide blue-gray eyes a little dazed. He covered her mouth again before she could speak- either to consent or decline- and drew her slowly backward, step by step, toward the bed, until he hit it with the backs of his legs. He broke the kiss, looking down at her, her wet ruby lips parted, her cheeks flushed pink. She looked edible. Raphael, she whispered, his name on her lips like a plea, and something within him broke.

She shifted until his cock was under her. She rubbed herself against him, using his hard flesh to pleasure herself. He arched under her, this big strong man. The tendons of his neck stood out; he flung wide his arms and clutched at the bedclothes. Eve, what you do to me. She watched him and slowly reached down to pull her sodden chemise up, up over her belly, over her breasts, over her head, undulating on him all the while.

His wide brow, his Roman nose, those too-cold eyes, and the lips that in another life- another, better world- would still have been beautiful. This man was her husband. He was intense and intelligent, arrogant and vulnerable, dark and strange. The more she found out about him, the more she thought that perhaps she might fall in love with him, Raphael de Chartres, the Duke of Dyemore. What was more, he was hers . And in that she would not fail.

She lies! cried the Fox, and he leapt toward her, his arm raised. The Wolf lunged, seized the Fox's right arm, twisted it up behind his back, and slammed the other man to his knees. Iris stared and felt a tremble shake her body. She'd never seen a man move so swiftly. Nor so brutally. The Wolf bent over his prey, both men panting, their naked bodies sweating. The snout of the Wolf mask pressed against the Fox's vulnerable bent neck. Don't. Touch. What. Is. Mine.

He rose up suddenly and turned her, so that she lay on the bed. He pushed up her skirts, found the ties to her panniers, and yanked them off and threw them to the floor. Then he was on her again, trailing his mouth down her neck, biting at her collarbone. She ran her fingers into the hair at the back of his head, grasping, trying to hold on as he moved on her so intently. He'd always been in control when he'd made love to her. Now he seemed moved by a sort of compulsion. An animal need.

God.' She'd tasted of oranges and honey and he'd felt her shake beneath his hands. He'd wanted to strip her right there in the carriage with his men riding outside. She was driving him mad. He couldn't look at her anymore without feeling the pull. And yet he could not send her away- everything inside him rebelled at the thought. She had to stay with him so that he could protect her. So that she could illuminate his darkness just a little.

You tend a wound nearly as well as you dance. Her blue-gray gaze flicked up to his, wide with surprise. I wasn't sure if you recognized me from the ball. This was intimate, her face so close to his. He naked and she with the upper slopes of her breasts uncovered. He felt hazy with desperate temptation. He could smell her, above the scent of his own blood- a faint flower scent. Not cedarwood, thank God. You're hard to forget, he murmured.

He opened his eyes to see her licking her lips nervously. I... er... We should remove your banyan. At least the upper portion. If he were a man given to mirth he might've grinned then. She was playing in the flames of his control. Did she not understand her own peril? But her blush had deepened and she was deliciously out of sorts. He simply could not resist- either his own urges or her innocent befuddlement. He spread his arms and said gravely, Be my guest.

It was a strange thing, this feeling of empathy. He'd never experienced it before. He realized that what hurt this woman hurt him as well, that what made her bleed caused a hemorrhage of pain within his soul.

Oh, he was glorious! He was everything she'd suspected- and feared- that first morning. His shoulders so wide, his chest swirled with wet, dark hair his hips slim, and his sex framed by the V of muscle that ran from the sides of his belly to his groin. His cock bobbed wetly, the foreskin already pulled taut under the head. His thighs were long and bulged with muscle, and even his feet were large and hairy.

I had to give myself up to you for your lifetime. What is faith when you feel you've lost something forever? I had to have you--someone I could lose forever.

I know that you're a virgin and as bodiless as any paralytic. I know I'm old and not as handsome as I once was. But I know you love me as I love you.' And he kissed the angel.

In those days, I still thoroughly enjoyed the romance I called by myself; I didn't know yet how it gets lonely, picks up a sharp edge later on that ruins a day now and then-- ruins more than that, if you're not careful.

Looking down on their glossy heads, I realized that they were indeed threatened; they were simply unaware of it. We are all vulnerable.

This time I felt my own face redden. Talking with this woman was like sitting still for a series of slaps, delivered arhythmically so you couldn't know when the next one was coming.

I felt sure, glaring at the children as they settled onto the sand with their shovels, that these creatures were never threatened by the grimness of history, either. Then, looking down on their glossy heads, I realized that they were indeed threatened; they were simply unaware of it. We were all vulnerable.