Quotes About Desire

First, you hand over some basics--overwhelming joy, existential angst, a giving-in to desire, etc. And then you promise to withstand talking idly about the weather, to encourage cliché, to uphold the virtues of average. You hand over the need to be understood and, in return, you get a bar of Normal soap. And you can wash in it and be daily reborn to a safe world of modest, enduring love or, at least, mild, well-mannered bonding.

Siente él lo mismo que ella, un torbellino persistente que le aporrea el corazón? Con todo lo que ha perdido, lo único que sabe ahora es que a él no puede perderlo...en la vida.

I've never thought there was anything I could hope to get by praying for it.

You're a hero here.' 'I don't want to be a hero.' 'What do you want?' 'I want to be a leader.

She let him go once. Every day demands that she release him over and over again. She clenches her fists and thinks, Will he find me again? And she tells herself, No. Don't want this. Let him go.

When you're in the world looking for only one thing, you find it or it finds you. The obsession can be mutual

A girl could forget her precise location in the universe when a man looked at her with eyes like those.

Not every man will make you want to do anything he wishes because the moment he touches you your body is his to command. Not every man is capable of making you scream with bliss in every imaginable position, or knows where to touch you or listens to your breath and your sighs to know precisely how to touch you, so that the pleasure you experience is the most intense. Not every man will make you see stars every ...single... time.

She wanted to buckle, lie on her side and gasp like an eviscerated fish. She held her breath against it, but her mouth parted. She cared naught for living in the moment, but apparently her body was sensible. It wanted to breathe.

You are my dream, Cynthia.

Their faces were inches apart now, and he traced her lips with one finger, lightly, lightly, then placed his lips there as if he'd drawn them into being.

I couldn't see it because you are my heart, damn you! And how can I see my own heart if it's beating in my own chest?

He was older, bolder. He knew of whores and wars, violence and vendettas. He knew precisely what he wanted, always. He wanted her.

Rebecca stared back at him, still dazed. She'd forgotten how to speak; it seemed an unimportant skill, anyhow, when such kisses were to be had, when a whole world could be made from a kiss.

She most definitely had an instinct for passion, an instinct that matched his own, that had nearly caused him to lose his head. Well, now he knew her skin was petal smooth; he knew the rich wine of her mouth; he knew the feel of that delicate, puckered nipple rubbed against his cheek---

The duke was sitting silently in the corner, long legs casually outstretched, arms loosely crossed over him, surveying the room with ironic eyes. They lingered on her; he gave her the faintest of smiles. It was almost impossible to believe that this was the man who had said to her 'I want you naked beneath me.' Apart from the rush of blood to various places in her body when she thought it, she could almost imagine it hadn't happened at all.

Her heart was walloping away in her throat, and she was certain he could feel it, as his fingers lingered there. Nearly everything on her body that could stand erect was erect now, clamoring for his touch. The hair on the back of her neck, her arms. Her nipples. Are you afraid, Genevieve? No. You do enjoy saying my name. It has a lilt. I see. Her voice was faint. Because you should consider being a little afraid.

She knew again the delicious little frisson of fear that came with walking the edge of something she knew better than to cross. She had forgotten what this was like. How a man could heighten every moment, remind you of the point of possessing sight and smell, let alone skin and nerve endings and a heart. That a man could so easily make your heart sing like a bloody lark or plummet like a stone.

eyes fixed on her as though she were the first sign of land after months at sea.

Backward now?' he suggested. 'Are you going to call out our lovemaking like a billiards game?

This man offered her forever. And if Prescott had asked a month ago...If he'd asked the day before she'd encountered Jonathan Redmond at midnight outside the Duke of Greyfolk's house... Ah, but she was a different woman now. One kiss had changed that. And a ballroom orgasm.

He wanted to be a man she admired. The way he admired her. He wanted her to think of him as brave. He wanted to be better because of her, and for her. He was better because of her. She'd changed him irrevocably.

How he felt (hard as a wall, safe as a house, dangerous as a wild animal), how he smelled (sweat, sawdust, smoke, musk, sex), how he tasted (like sin, if sin was a liqueur)- taken together they should have all comprised an adventure. And then a lesson. And then be rapidly consigned to history.

she echoed with longing, like struck crystal.