Best 9447 quotes in «romance quotes» category

He bent lower to whisper in her ear," I love you, queen of beauty and love.

Heck, that woman out there looked like she was getting more from one kiss than Jessica had ever gotten from the whole insert-dick-move-around shebang.

He clearly suffers from some past traumas too, so hopefully he'll understand why I was untruthful to him about mine.

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Well, I guess my plans are shot to hell.” “Oh? And what were those?” I asked, glancing up and meeting those sultry blue orbs. “I was going to fuck that smirk off your face.

He could look into your eyes and without saying a word assure you that you were the most fascinating woman in the world and call you beautiful in six languages.

He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have found a girl like her. She may have been the perfect woman for him.

He couldn’t help it. The need to soothe and touch her was overwhelming. He lifted his hand to trace the delicate curve of her cheek. “You’re with me so you’re in the perfect place. And by the way, you’re beautiful—inside and out.” She gave him an uncertain smile. “You could have said that in front of my cousin, you know? It would have killed her.” “I’m saying it now.” “But nobody’s here to hear it,” she said with a nervous catch of laughter. “You’re here,” he said huskily.

He couldn’t just come right out with it, could he? No, that would scare her off. He had to be subtle, build up to it. Explain himself. “I love you.” Of course, straight to the point was also an effective strategy.

He cupped her face and held her still, as he looked into her brown eyes; she was all flash and no bang. She talked big, but when it came down to it, she was a simple girl.

He cupped his hand around her cheek, and she marveled at how perfectly his palm fit her cheek. His fingers in her hair, she waited, maybe for an eternity, for his lips to meet hers. When they did it was like being inside an exploding star. Time and space became irrelevant. She slipped her arms under his, clinging to him, his body the only thing stopping her from drifting away, untethered in space. His hand on her back slipped under layers of clothes, finding her skin. He pulled her close, and she leaned into him, feeling like she could never be close enough to him.

... he'd been forced to reply on his charm. Which, as Cam would have put it, was like a wet cat trapped inside a plastic bag.

He'd chase her to Hell and back if needs be, but whether it was for love, or lust, or power, he did not know.

He clamped her body to his as if by the sheer force of his embrace he could crawl inside her soul and anchor himself there for eternity.

He clenched his teeth and muttered, "I can't get deep enough." .... Putting her mouth to his ear, she whispered, "Try.

He closed the pages and stuffed them back into his jacket. Keeping his eyes cast downwards as he sipped his wine, he pulled out and lit a cigarette – almost a post-coital gesture. from The Willow Lake Group by Kelly Proudfoot

He comprado un hogar para nosotros. Para ti y para mí, y para el melocotón, y cualquier otra frambuesa o guisante que pueda llegar después

He could kiss her, or he could bite her. Both possibilities were equally tempting.

He could lose himself in the copper warmth of her eyes. Except, no, this wasn't losing himself. This was finding something precious.

He couldn’t look back at the children. He couldn’t think of it. All he could do was watch the eyes of his wife. He pulled her to him, her body soft, her skin warm. She was life, she was his. He took her lips and tasted his freedom once more. The subtle tenderness. The hope hidden in joined breath. He took it into himself. Soaking in the peace that came with it. And even as the rustling began he felt still, he felt calm. Scratching and scrapping within the stones, and the rustle of wings. But all Eli knew was the nature of love.

He cracked his crooked smile that made all women swoon except the ones who wanted to slap him. Faye was a fence-sitter on the subject.

He’d always loved this land, loved how his family had tamed it. It was as much a part of him as his blood. Being involved with him meant moving back here. Being surrounded by bad memories.

He darted for her; his blade wielded smooth and steady in front of him. She didn't hold back either; when they joined, their weapons clanked and sparked with an icy rage. They danced around one another; their feet light yet balanced, their arms twisting and turning with every thundering blow they made.

He'd been lucky enough to find a home with Team Four of the GhostWalkers in the Pararescue Unit. In his life, those men had been the first he'd ever given his allegiance to, and that had been hard-won.

He’d gone too far. He didn’t usually talk to women so frankly. Not with them both fully clothed anyway.

He closed his eyes willing his desire to cool before meeting hers once more, “I am Lutalo Gund, your mate.

He could not remember when anything had felt so young and fresh as her lips. The rain lay, like tears shed for him, upon the softly shining porcelain cheeks. She was all new and immaculate, and her eyes were wild.

He crooked a finger beneath her chin and lifted until she met his gaze. Her skin was just as soft as he remembered, and her lips just as full. Only the distress in her eyes was new. At least that was something he could fix

He cupped her face in his hands. “Now, let me take you on a journey to the place of souls, to your little piece of heaven.” His fingers glided from her face, down her neck to her arm, and then gently grasped her hand. “With your hand in mine, permit me to show you something magical, a place where we will always be able to join with each other, no matter where we are, together or alone. There is no measure of time or distance where we are going, and we will stay grounded to this realm by our physical touch…

He'd been the one to end things, and it had been ugly. Really ugly. Deliberately ugly. He'd said things to drive her away--and she'd gone. She'd managed to take pieces of him with her. She'd stolen those pieces from him, and he'd known when she'd left, he wasn't going to get them back.

He could leave. I could leave. We could both end up heartbroken, sitting on the floor of our souls and trying to piece together our lives again. But, we could also find forever. We could take the next steps together—toward a year, five, or maybe, forever. And that was a game worth playing.

He could sense in her the same spirit that ran in his veins. They were people with independent minds. They were not clerks at desks. They preferred to act. Accomplish something. They were rushing to reach the end. Such people need to be left alone. They are used to the darkness, the silence, the waiting. They belong to the same family. That of leopards.

He’d done it like he did everything else—with passion and total disregard for how much it might embarrass her.

He closed the door behind us, and led me through to the back of the shop. ‘If you don’t mind, you can get changed in the stock cupboard,’ he said. ‘We’re not posh enough here to have staff changing rooms, but you’ll soon get used to it.’ ‘Oh, don’t worry, Chris,’ I said warmly. ‘I’m used to getting my clothes off in unusual places.

He'd been angry. He'd been afraid for her. He'd been shocked that just by being with her, he'd become everything he most despised in the world-- a predator.

He’d been rigid for so long, maybe he’d petrified clean through and there was no softness left inside him. How could she reach him to color his world when his fists were filled with charcoal?

He’d been rigid for so long, maybe he’d petrified clean through and there was no softness left inside him. How could she teach him to color his world when his fists were filled with charcoal?

He delivered the mail, ran our modest recycling program, and maintained our handful of public buildings. He also occasionally fell asleep while driving a snowplough, but he was such a cheerful guy it was hard to stay pissed at him. Besides every village needs an idiot.

He didn't know if there was a word to describe what he felt in that moment, how he saw the lines of his own heart when her eyes met his.

He didn’t save women. He damned them.

He'd killed people, lots of them if he cared to count. Which he didn't.

He’d never been shy, but he’d always been a little uncertain around girls. He just couldn’t believe they liked him.

He dropped his arms on the bed and peered over at Jenna. She lay on her side facing him, hand tucked under her chin, not looking the least bit settled or relaxed. "Whatchu need?" "You." She spoke the word without and hesitation, any doubt, any seeming self-consciousness.

He didn't just want her now. He needed her. He needed to feel his rhythm in her body, to see if his soul was still there in her pleasure.

He didn't speak and she didn't want him to. She was just glad he had come.

He didn't take any of my shit. I needed that.

He didn’t wait for her to react. Their mutual desire was obvious. He started kissing her mouth first gently, then harder. He pushed her into the wall and started to slip her robe off. She was intoxicated by his touch. She reeled him in closer. They crashed into the bedroom.

He didn't want just one morning with her, just one dawn breaking across the horizon. He wanted every dawn forever, every night, and the hours in between.

He does seem rather taken with you,” Jacques said, almost sending Ignatius off bleating with laughter. The man sounded quite perplexed and put out that the horseman had chosen another over him. “The same could be said of you,” Ignatius reminded him, thinking of a forced seduction by chicken.

He drew a deep breath, struggling to keep his emotions in check, knowing he didn't love her simply in the here and now but that he would never stop loving her.

He drinks his coffee tentatively, glancing at me every few seconds, watching me. Every time he glances in my direction, I quickly turn away though he obviously knows I'm watching him. I know he's wondering why I'm staring at him, but he doesn't ask. I finally take a sip of coffee, set the mug back on the table, and voice what's on my mind, "I want to draw you.