Quotes About Temptation

She was lost. He broke their kiss and laid his forehead against hers. "Make me stop." "I can't," she whispered. "Then… we're doomed," he said, his voice husky and low.

The duke brought her hand to his mouth and, his azure eyes glittering in the candlelight, pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. And then the edge of his teeth. She felt the warm softness of his lips, the prickle of against tender skin, and a sort of shock seemed to go straight through the center of her body. He let her go and her wrist felt the cold of night. Séraphine. The burning one. I should've known.

He was covered, of course, but she knew what lay beneath the sheets- she'd seen him entirely nude at the Lords' revels. She had the image burned into her memory: a proud, thick penis, heavy sac, and curling midnight hair. If the coverlet slipped just a little bit downward, she would see the upper edge of that nest of black hair. The thought made her press her thighs together under her dress. Did he know how his body affected her?

You're not to go wading in my pond again," he said. She shrugged and picked up her shoes and stockings where they lay on the path. "Very well, Your Grace, but it's a great pity. I should've liked to go swimming.

Why then was he taking her? Was it merely for his own amusement- or was it for some other, more sinister reason? After all, only two days before she'd seen him kill a footman in cold blood. Of course Cal had tried to kill the duke in a particularly awful and vicious way. But then afterward the duke had kissed her as she'd never been kissed in all her life. His tongue had tasted of wine and sin and she'd wanted to moan and rub herself against him as he'd tilted her back over his arm.

Besides, they'll all know soon enough, won't they? That I'm your mistress?" He snorted, hitting the bed with one arm as he sprawled. She raised a delicate eyebrow. "That is what you want, isn't it?" "I can't have what I want." "Can't you?" Her voice was light, nearly careless. "But you're the Duke of Wakefield, one of the most powerful men in England.

BUT HOW, EXACTLY, did one go about seducing a husband one hardly knew?

His nostrils flared just a little bit, and the lines bracketing his mouth grew deeper. He snarled with his beautiful, twisted lips and she thought, half on the edge of falling again, she thought he looked like a demon making love to her. A demon fighting for his life or light or possibly redemption.

She nudged his arm to wash under it, where his dark hair grew in a swirl. Where the scent of his masculinity was the strongest. She shouldn't find this erotic. A lady shouldn't find this erotic. And yet she did. His lifted arms made the muscles move over his ribs stand out in intriguing ridges, and she wanted- rather badly, in fact- to lean down and inhale his scent.

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.

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.

Elizabeth Hoyt

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.

She swallowed. He was covered, of course, but she knew what lay beneath the sheets- she'd seen him entirely nude at the Lords' revels. She had the image burned into her memory: a proud, thick penis, heavy sac, and curling midnight hair. If the coverlet slipped just a little bit downward, she would see the upper edge of that nest of black hair. The thought made her press her thighs together under her dress. Did he know how his body affected her?

She caught her breath on a sob. He was going to London to bed another woman.

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.

He remembered Mrs. Dews' light brown eyes last night. The way they'd closed in bliss when he'd fed her the plum tart… Her emotion was foreign, wild and exciting, and entirely fascinating--and she tried so very hard to hide it. Why? He wanted to spend time with the source of such powerful emotion. Wanted to experiment, poke and prod, see what else made her cheeks flush her breath come fast.

His knee pressed between her thighs, bunching the linen against her woman's place, spreading her and rubbing into her folds. She found herself undulating against that knee, pleasuring herself with his hard, hot, wet body.

He said there is a place in Gaul, the oldest church in their part of the world, where some of the Latin monks have outwitted death by secret means. He offered to sell me their secrets, which he has inscribed in a book. The abbot shudders. God preserve us from such heresies, he says hastily. I am certain, my son, that you refused this temptation. Dracula smiles. You know I am fond of books.

you handle books all day long, every new one is a friend and a temptation.

I flipped through the rest of the pages—when you handle books all day long, every new one is a friend and a temptation.

If my conscience had been a person at that moment, I might have strangled him.