Best 593 quotes in «attraction quotes» category

Here’s my usual party strategy: find the liquor, find the food, find the space where two walls meet. Alienate enough people around you to have some breathing room. Find the attractive people—this shouldn’t take long; they’ll be the ones getting everything they want in life. Once you’ve found them, stare hungrily at them all evening, and interpret every alarmed flicker of eye contact from them as a new stage in your relationship.

Hermes visited him in the Underworld a few days before the spring equinox festival, cajoling Hades to come to it. Hades wandered across the fields with him, Kerberos limping along at his side. “No one wants the god of death at their fertility festival.” “Sure they do. I’ve heard plenty of girls sighing over your tasty darkness.” “Tasty darkness. Really.

Her sudden grin depleted some of his brain cells. She was evil like that.

He’s all natural charm and boyish good looks.” About Jack Simple, FADE by Kailin Gow

He stripped to his trunks, then dove into the pool. We all watched as he broke the surface and climbed from the water, his muscles slick and wet, his green eyes glowing in the half light of the glass ceiling. I heard Natalie and Sara both sigh, and Harry murmur that it almost made him want to go gay. Coby stretched out on a chaise beside me and asked, “So you still sorry you moved here?

He took his hand and something sparked in the handshake. It coursed up his arm and fluttered in his chest. He gritted his teeth as he tried to keep his face smooth, pleasant, while lightning struck his heart. Reiner looked straight into his eyes, and when Thierry returned his intense gaze, he was bewildered as to where and when he was. The breath he didn’t need to take caught in his dry throat. The lights around him seemed to dim, leaving only the two of them illuminated. His muddled mind tried to understand what was happening, but as he groped for answers he found nothing to hold. Like trying to catch water.

He was broad-shouldered, dark-haired and dark-eyed; more than once, women had been noted openly regarding him, and not just immigrant women or those who smoked in public.

He relaxed his hands, lifted one and tucked a strand of wispy blonde hair behind her ear. She didn’t move; she only looked at him. He wondered if she felt it too.

Her lips are a pomegranate painted vacation spot. And her eyebrows -- dark, frustrated, and jealous -- for they never get the attention of her glittering pupils after yet being so near them.

Her scent was there, swirling all around him. It was feminine, but not elegant. Not like flowers or the spring air, but rather like an autumn breeze, weaving its way through branches well on their way to winter slumber. It was the scent of a fall evening casting its glow over a serene lake. It was the smell of sunset, something he hadn’t seen in so long.

He smiled and squinted at me again, tilting his head up and to the right as he stared. “Maybe what I’m attracted to in you is more than your looks and your brain and your humor.” He leaned closer like he had a secret. “It could be your soul,” he whispered. I pushed his cheek until he was squinting at the door to the kitchen instead. “Is this when you tell me I’m your soul mate, O’Neill?

He's unconventionally attractive and yet coincidentally everything I've ever wanted.

He tried to remember her as a thin little urchin trailing across the fields with Garrick behind her. But that was no use at all. The urchin was gone forever. It was not beauty she had grown overnight but the appeal of youth, which was beauty in its own right.

He was a jerk; he didn’t deserve to be the object of my lust. But he’d smelled so fucking good, like spice and musk and man. We don’t have control over what we fantasize about. The fact that he was mean and unattainable made him that much more likely to be an object of my forbidden thoughts. Just like I learned in psychology class back in college, thought suppression often leads to obsession. If you tell yourself not to think about something, then you’ll think about it even more.

He wanted her. The girl stood speechless before him, and Drake decided to have pity on her. She had, after all, saved his life. She was the one. His light. He recognized her in a way that was deeper even than her voice. "I beg your pardon. I haven't much to be happy about at present, but that has nothing to do with you." He smiled at her again and saw the light in her eyes change. She was so easy to read, so vulnerable and innocent. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen such open sweetness. "You have brought me back from the darkness, and for that I am forever in your debt. So come, tell me your name." Her hands hung, loosely clasped together, against the front of a plain dress, but her face- dear heaven, her face- was lavish extravagance and no amount of plain attire could detract from it.

He watches Meredith toss her long brown hair over her shoulder so that we can see the single diamond stud suspended just beneath her collarbones on a thin gold chain. She rolls it between her fingers and it makes her look delicate and pretty. Rowan thinks she does it to look pretty because he thinks all women do all things to look either pretty or fuckable. He has always thought Meredith pretty. Now he thinks her fuckable.

He was looking at her with that intense blazing gaze – the one that made her feel she was the only woman in the world. Oh God, don’t let him get to her. She’d tried to raise her defences against him, but he was so very attractive – almost irresistible. It would be easy to admit defeat…

He was like a jalapeño, bright and smooth, but dangerously hot. A small part of me wanted to bite him.

He watches Meredith toss her long brown hair over her shoulder so that we can see the single diamond stud suspended just beneath her collarbones on a thin gold chain. She rolls it between her fingers and it makes her look delicate and pretty. Rowan thinks she does it to look pretty because he thinks all women do all things to look either pretty or fuckable. He has always though Meredith pretty. Now he thinks her fuckable.

His brain didn't want her to go, and he was afraid his subconscious would badger it's only witness into believing she didn't have to.

His arm slid around my shoulders and drew me to him. It was odd, sitting there under the veil of darkness, watching the neighborhood settle down. Lamps burned in windows. TVs flickered. A few houses down, the rhythmic thud of a basketball on concrete and muffled laughter alerted us to the only other people outside on this glorious fall night. “This is a perfect date,” I said. He tensed. “You’d call it a date?” “Sure. You wouldn’t?” He looked down at me, his eyes glittering in the faint light. “I thought American girls liked more formality in a date.” “More money is what you mean.” I smiled. “It’s a date. Don’t argue with me.” “I never do.

His eyes were like a forest at night—dark, wild, and dangerous. They were as fey as the rest of him, calling to mind thoughts of terrifying legends and powerful magic. You could fall into eyes like that, she thought, and find yourself trapped forever. In that moment, he resembled exactly what he was: a witch prince, out for blood.

His mouth was a little too wide and snaked from corner to corner. His nose had been broken a few times, and when you looked at him straight on like I was doing as I stared at him across the circle bar, you could really tell. But his eyes were beautiful, cunning and otherworldly. His hair was a controlled mess; wispy dark strands that swooped across his forehead with long sideburns. He had high cheekbones, a strong jawline. When you combined all the parts, they equaled so much more than the sum. He was exotically, dangerously beautiful. He'd been mine once. He'd broken my heart once. And he was here to kill me. He only needed to do that once, too.

His looks are my weakness, his mind my undoing.

His smile is infectious. But again, so was the plague.

His voice was like soothing melted chocolate. I wanted him to ooze his lovely voice all over my naked body.

Honey will wipe the floor with you." His eyes went half-mast, and his voice dropped in evident pleasure. "I know.

His attention felt more like an irrepressible gravitational pull than mere interest.

However, she’d been telling the truth about one thing—the attraction had become flash powder between them, waiting for the match to drop.

I accept the hard reality that I maybe might possibly be just the slightest tiniest littlest bit kinda sorta interested in him.

I am a cherry blossom tree hit with the first hints of spring. Something dormant inside me has stirred awake after a long hibernation. Something I’m not sure I even realized lurked there, waiting to be roused, until this breathless instant pinned beneath Beck’s gaze. Now that it’s made its presence known, I’m not sure I can banish it back to slumber. I’m not sure I want to.

How does it feel living life every day with such attractive faces in a place where women are forced to take responsibility even for the worst outcomes that spring from other people’s lusts?

I am exactly who I am choosing to be. Should I change my choice, the universe will always be there to assist me.

I am attracted to certain types of people: the outrageous, outstanding and the one's pegged as odd. The 3 O's remind me not to be ordinary.

I can feel him step close, then his hands lay on my shoulders, and they burn in the most delicious way, only reminding me how dangerous Benjamin is to me, to my soul. How fast I would get lost in him, only to end up with a broken heart when I could not be the woman he expected me to be.

How old are you, anyway?" "How old are you?" "Seventeen." I raise a brow. "Almost. I'll be seventeen in two weeks. You?" Part of me doesn't want to tell her. She'll be horrified. But part of me wants to know what she will do when she knows the truth. "How old do you think I am?" She lifts a slender shoulder. "At first I thought maybe eighteen, but now I'm thinking at least nineteen. Maybe even twenty?" "why's that?" "You seem very ... experienced." I nod. "You're close. Today's my birthday. I'm thirteen.

I begin to feel this tension when things that doesn't worth attention are the things that attracts attention

I could survive for months, years, on a crush.

I began to realize what everyone in the world knows and routinely forgets: that to be loved sexually is to be loved not for one's actual self but for one's ability to arouse desire in the other...Only the thoughts in one's mind or intuitions of the spirit can attract permanently...

I do not know how you have done this to me. I thought that if I returned the help you had given me that I would be free of the inexplicable influence you have over me. But it does not seem to be working, and you say you cannot break the thread." Mari realized that her mouth had fallen open as she stared at Mage Alain. "Are you serious?" "What would I be if not serious?" "You're saying that I put a spell on you that controls your thoughts and actions?" "Why else am I here?" The Mage asked. "Because it was the right thing to do!" "The...what? I am still uncertain about what right thing means—" the trace of puzzlement had retired to him. "Listen...Mage Alain! I don't...put spells on boys! Or men! Or anybody! I have no idea why you think that you are thinking about me, but I assure you that it has nothing to do with me thinking about you or making you think that you want to think about me!

I can't stand how much like my dreams you smell; it's torture. You are torture. You wear metal on your skin like you're made of it, and it bites at me every time you're around. No matter how many showers I take, I smell your scent on me, on this ship, while I'm trying to sleep. I don't understand it, and can't stand it. I can't stand how I want you so badly and don't at the same time, because you're what I've been looking for, and I don't know what it means to have found it.

I don't purchase people with money, or hiss like a snake to attract their attention, all i do is to rest on my couch because i have the conviction that no human can progress with an exception without a power behind.

I dragged my mind away from that line of thought; there was nothing but quicksand and crocodiles down that path.

Id you're finished picking out my flaws,maybe you'd like to tell me what you want now.I have other customers--" "You." "What was that?" "I Want You.

I’d tell you not to swoon, but he’d catch you, so never mind.

I felt a pull toward her even before I actually spotted her in her car and I’m glad I didn’t resist.

If I seem better than you, you like me more. If you feel you have no chance with me, you like me more.

If Niall could see Marianne, he would say: don’t tell me. You like her. It’s true she is Connell’s type, maybe even the originary model of the type: elegant, bored-looking, with an impression of perfect self-assurance. And he’s attracted to her, he can admit that. After these months away from home, life seems much larger, and his personal dramas less significant. He’s not the same anxious, repressed person he was in school, when his attraction to her felt terrifying, like an oncoming train, and he threw her under it.

If I'd thought she was uninterested, I never would have worried so much - the prospect of screwing something up is much more daunting than that of screwing nothing up. I definitely thought there was something there, and so there was something to lose, you see.

I'd already sensed the attraction between us. it was apparent from the first time we met. But that sort of attraction was so usual that it didn't rate serious attention, let alone concern. When the attraction turned into something that smelled and tasted like substance, though, that was when things got complicated. A married woman will first deny to herself that anything improper is going on. She'll make excuses for her eagerness to see the man in question. She likes his sharp mind, for example, or his fresh views, or the stories he tells about his experiences, which are so different from her own. She'll dismiss as mere amusement her mind's tendency to wonder where he is and what he's doing, and whether he's thinking of her. She might even avoid the fellow for a day or two to test herself. If she doesn't see him and she feels fine about that, she'll know there's no cause for concern. The test is fake, though, too, because she's lying to herself to make sure she passes the test, which will then justify her choice to see him again, often.