Best 2267 quotes in «kissing quotes» category

My first kiss as a single woman. It sent a tingle sprinting down my spine like a tingle panther.

My mouth had sought his, and his had grown as eager as mine. There was no fairy-tale music, but there was something there. And it had quickly hardened against my thigh.

'My problem was comparatively simple,' Marcus said. 'One kiss was enough to solve it. But that doesn't mean one kiss is enough to wake everyone up and end every nightmare. [...] That's okay,' Marcus whispered to him. 'One kiss doesn't need to be enough to let you know that the nightmare is really over.' Liam swallowed rapidly, the world around him becoming embarrassingly misty. 'I'm not going anywhere,' Marcus promised. 'There'll be as many kisses as you need.' Tilting Liam's head back, Marcus dipped his head and brought their lips together one more time. Liam sighed softly into the kiss and, very slowly, woke up just a little bit more.

My whole body sank forward into his arms. His lips moved against mine, exploring my mouth so gently. I tried to mimic his movements--slowly, uncertainly, until I didn't have to think about it at all. It just felt right. He let out a soft moan at my reaction and cupped his hands behind my head, pulling me closer until I couldn't tell where my mouth ended and his began. A liquid sensation swooped throughout my stomach. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever felt and it kept growing, the vibrating heat expanding outward. I was surprised I was still able to stand.

Never had we ever kissed as lovers; if we touched lips it was as brother and sister. In one moment of emotion, our lips fell together by accident, but we quickly removed ourselves as though we were children touching glass with dirty hands.

Never pass up the chance to be kissing someone. It's the worst kind of regret.

Nodding, Parker ate. “He’s an exceptional kisser.” “He really is. He . . . How do you know?” When Parker just smiled, Emma’s jaw dropped. “You? You and Jack? When? How?” “I think it’s disgusting,” Mac muttered. “Yet another best pal moving on my imaginary ex.” “Two kisses, my first year at Yale, after we ran into each other at a party and he walked me back to the dorm. It was nice. Very nice. But as exceptional a kisser as he is, it was too much like kissing my brother. And as exceptional a kisser as I am, I believe he felt it was too much like kissing his sister. And that’s how we left it. I gather that wasn’t an issue for you and Jack.

None of them are real to me.” He paused again, placing a hand flat against the door. “You are the only real thing in my life.” Radu gasped with the sheer physical pain the words sent through him. But the sound of his agony was covered by that of the door opening. Mehmed reached in and pulled Lada out to him, and then his mouth was on hers and his hands were in her hair and he was holding her so tightly, so tightly, and they stumbled back into Lada’s room and closed the door. Radu tripped forward, feet dragging, until he stood outside the room. He wanted to be inside it. He wanted to be the only real thing to Mehmed, just as Mehmed was the only real thing to him. He wanted— No, please, no. Yes. He wanted Mehmed to look at him the way he had looked at Lada. He wanted Mehmed to kiss him the way he had kissed Lada. He wanted to be Lada. No, he did not. He wanted to be himself, and he wanted Mehmed to love him for being himself. His question, the question of Mehmed, was finally answered, piercing him and leaving him shaking, silent, on the floor. He did not want this answer.

Oh how I had underestimated tender kisses.

Not bad”? Are you kidding me? He looks like that and his kissing skills are “not bad”? You’re killing me here.

Of course. If you're not afraid of kissing someone, they're not worth kissing.

Oh hell no, I thought. I am not wasting my first kiss on some guy who's skipping out on our first date.

Oliver Cromwell banned kissing on Sundays---even for married couples---on pain of a prison sentence.

Oh, those warm days of stumbling words; blinded eyes, embracing in sweet slow dances and sipping courage from a bottle for sneaking kisses.

Ô, Muse of the Heart’s Passion, let me relive my Love’s memory, to remember her body, so brave and so free, and the sound of my Dreameress singing to me, and the scent of my Dreameress sleeping by me, Ô, sing, sweet Muse, my soliloquy!

Once she kissed me, my heart slowed, and every muscle in my body relaxed. How much I needed her terrified me. -pg 252/ARC

One afternoon they were in the garden, where Seb was telling her about the agonies of withdrawal he had suffered when he gave up cigarettes, when he suddenly broke off talking and grabbed Polly and kissed her. It was the first time anyone had done that to Polly. She should have asked Nina about it, she thought wryly, as Seb’s face met hers and their noses seemed to get tangled up. It was not much fun. She wondered whether to wriggle loose, but See was breathing heavily and passionately and seemed to be enjoying it so much that it brought Polly’s annoying soft-heartedness out. She stood there and let him lay his mouth against hers, and tried to decide if you kept your eyes open or shut them, and in the end she settled for one of each. What a funny thing to invent to do! she thought. What do people see in it? (p. 271)

Our lips now conjoin like the glittery coils of a wet snake dancing in the amazon. Kissing Nadia sends me into a savoring affair for that which is most delectable, always tasting the delicate layers that exist in her myriad of emotion. Always, Nadia’s opulent lips gratify and subdue by easing my sensitivity as she drags her fingers down my stomach like a tree scattering its roots. I now brush my lips over Nadia’s, dipping into her mouth like a brush that falls into a bucket of paint, osculating under this euphoric form of affection.

Our eyes will know the heavens if our lips stay for each other.

Ooo la la! That kiss was fine, and it was full of all the words I didn't need to say.

Our lips were for each other and our eyes were full of dreams. We knew nothing of travel and we knew nothing of loss. Ours was a world of eternal spring, until the summer came.

Pucker up, Hollywood. By the time I’m finished with you, the neighbors are gonna need a cigarette.

Our tongues dancing with familiarity even though they’ve only just met.

Ô, Wanderess, Wanderess When did you feel your most euphoric kiss? Was I the source of your greatest bliss?

Perhaps you'll gave to kiss him again, if you're not sure. Gather more evidence. In the name of science.

Qu'est-ce que ton baiser? — Un lèchement de flamme

Passion lingers on a state of bliss Love loves you more when you kiss

Resisting him has made the buildup to this more explosive. His tongue, his lips, his mouth seeking mine, it’s as natural and inevitable as magnets finding each other. I tried to be strong, I tried to hold back, but I know now it would’ve been impossible to keep up forever. His back hits the door. Our tongues tangle, and there’s no hesitance on his part. He dives in fully, and he tastes the same as I remember but better.

Realizing that he was waiting for an answer, she replied with a touch of impishness, "Aye." After a blink of surprise, Rhys hauled her up into his lap. His eyes glinted with amusement. "Mocking my accent, are you?" "No." A breathless giggle escaped her. "I like it. Very much." "Do you, then?" His tone had deepened. "I'll have to send you inside, now soon. Give me a kiss, cariad. One to make up for all the kisses I would have had from you tonight." She pressed her mouth to his, and his lips parted, letting her explore him with little flirting tastes. Realizing that he was letting her take the lead, she nudged him more fully open, enjoying the firm silken texture of his mouth. Tentatively she changed the angle of the kiss, and the fit was so lush and delicious that she locked her mouth onto his. She wanted to stay like this forever, caught in his lap with the mass of her skirts bunched all around them, her bottom sinking into the space between his muscular thighs. Gripping his shoulders, she hugged herself closer to the hard contours of his body. His chest moved in a forceful breath or two, like pumps from fireplace bellows, and he broke the kiss with a groan. A shaken laugh escaped him as her mouth continued to seek his. "No- Helen- ah, how you please me- we have to stop." He leaned his forehead against hers. "Before I take you here in this carriage." Befuddled, Helen asked, "It can be done in a carriage?" His color heightened, and he closed his eyes briefly, as if he'd been pushed to the limit of his endurance. "Aye." "But how-" "Don't ask me to explain, or I might end up showing you.

Sam's eyes studied my lips and I studied hers. We each leaned in closer until our foreheads were touching. It felt like currents of electricity were running through the two of us, making me feel like I was going to melt from the intensity.

She ached for him to touch her. As much as her words said "we can't" and as much as she was saying "no" in her head, her heart was saying "please kiss me." "Please just grab me and kiss me before I can say no.

Shane never knew how to address her friends' parents. She wanted to call her Mrs. Eliot's Mom, but knew that the cutesiness would not be appreciated. “Mrs. Kaspar” sounded too like a phone solicitor, which would not do after having kissed the circumference of her son's neck.

She blushed and I smiled when we saw the Magpie look at us while we kissed below the Acacia tree!

She didn't feel like a girl when he kissed her, but like fire in a girl's form, burning and hungry.

She gets on her tippy-toes and kisses him. Long, slow, deep. The kind of kiss where you can feel little pieces of your soul trading places as mouths open and breath mingles.

She leaned over the bed to plant a goodbye kiss on his cheek. Instead he reached up and cupped her head in his left hand, so that he was in charge of her kiss and it landed oh his lips. It was not, as she would have expected, the fumbling kiss of a boy unused to dating but the practiced kiss of a man who knew exactly what he was doing.

She had ridden that kiss better than she had ever ridden a surfboard. It didn’t matter if Russell was clueless about surfing. He certainly knew a thing or two about kissing.

She kissed him like he was a warrior; she kissed him like she was a warrior.

She knew exactly how she ought to feel, for she was well read in our greater and lesser English poets, but the unfortunate fact was that she did not really like being kissed at all.

She pressed her mouth to his throat, his shoulder, would have absorbed him into her skin if she'd known a way.

She pressed herself to him willingly, opening his mouth with her lips. He’d been expecting a fight, and a heartbeat before he kissed her back she felt all the tension melt from his body and he yielded to her fully, bending to her like a blade of grass against the wind.

She put a spoonful of mint chocolate chip in her mouth. [...] "Let me try it." She held her bowl toward him, but he didn't put his spoon in it. He trailed his fingers over her jaw as he tipped her head back and sealed his lips over hers. His tongue speared into her mouth, and the salt of him mixed with the flavor of the ice cream. She didn't know if she was mortified, shocked, aroused or all three.

She's even been practicing making out with the back of her hand. Which was about as effective as tickling yourself. It's why you needed other fingers, other tongues. Only other people can make you feel real.

She should pull away, even though she had begged for it with her smart mouth. She should punish him for every crime he’d perpetrated. For being too good-looking, too sexy, too everything. But the kiss was like him—just too damn good. Warm and brutal, providing answers to questions she never knew she had. He teased with his tongue along the seam of her mouth, seeking that last nudge of acceptance as if it was his God-given right. She parted her lips, and like a predator hinged on her threshold, he took.

She tastes like every dark thought I've ever had.

Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind. The End.” The Princess Bride (1987) – Grandpa (Peter Falk)

slow down, oh sweet tears flowing nectar...down my lashes' tips someday someone will kiss you away, even before you can reach my lips.

Some women have kissed—and some are kissing—a lot of frogs, even though the very first man that they have each kissed was and is still a prince.

Snow's table manners are atrocious - it's like watching a wild dog eat. A wild dog you'd like to slip the tongue.

So many details came into focus. The shape of his lips, the line of his neck. “I’m not dangerous,” I breathed. He brought his face toward mine. “You are to me.” And somehow, against all reason, we were kissing. I closed my eyes, and the world around me faded.