Best 875 quotes in «kiss quotes» category

When I saw you on the stairs before, I’d forgotten how beautiful you are,’ he whispered against her skin. ‘Spotty, not beautiful,’ she corrected gently, running her finger along his crooked nose. ‘Now you, you’re beautiful.’ ‘I even missed your inferiority complex.’ Max smiled and shifted against her. ‘Not being inferior. It’s a point of fact. I’m covered in zits,’ Neve said and she didn’t know why she felt the need to share that with Max but then she was glad that she had because he was kissing each one of the angry red bumps along her forehead and chin and cheeks, even though a few of them were starting to suppurate. ‘Don’t do that, it’s completely unhygienic. Kiss my mouth instead.

When I walk in the front door after a shift, Lucy, I want your mouth on mine before I even get my jacket off

When I want a kiss, I will be the one to take it.

When Jonas came to the phone I asked him if he remembered that we used to kiss. "I remember," he said tersely. "Is that why you called?

When lovers kiss, they kiss even the eyes. (Quand s'embrassent les amoureux , - Ils s'embrassent même les yeux.)

When she bites my lips, I see stars dancing right next to the sun.

When she finally pulled away from him—much to Aley’s stuttering forward reluctance—he wanted only to echo Aley’s words: “Oh! Do it again.

When their mouths collided, the earth shifted, and she felt like she was coming face-to-face with death, and the brush was sweet, while he experienced life in the most shattering way.

When twilight sleeps holding the night In your arms you embrace me tight Runaway hours clenched by kisses More of your love my heart misses

When you are suffering from sexual starvation, a spank or even a hug seems like a porn scene.

When you kissed me, Clyde? I felt more in that one pissed-off kiss than I felt in those three or four attempts at making love. And I realized it wasn't a lie, after all. That was the best kiss I've ever had. By far. So tell me what I have to do to earn another one, because embarrassingly enough, I always seem to be the girl begging for affection and even with a broken give-a-damn, I don't know how much more humiliation I can take.

When you kiss, my world falls apart Heaven comes down to woo my heart

When you meet someone so different from yourself, in a good way, you don’t even have to kiss to have fireworks go off.

While this is all very amusing, the kiss that will free the girl is the kiss that she most desires,” she said. “Only that and nothing more.” Jace’s heart started to pound. He met the Queen’s eyes with his own. “Why are you doing this?” … “Desire is not always lessened by disgust…And as my words bind my magic, so you can know the truth. If she doesn’t desire your kiss, she won’t be free.” “You don’t have to do this, Clary, it’s a trick—” (Simon) ...Isabelle sounded exasperated. ‘Who cares, anyway? It’s just a kiss.” “That’s right,” Jace said. Clary looked up, then finally, and her wide green eyes rested on him. He moved toward her... and put his hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him… He could feel the tension in his own body, the effort of holding back, of not pulling her against him and taking this one chance, however dangerous and stupid and unwise, and kissing her the way he had thought he would never, in his life, be able to kiss her again. “It’s just a kiss,” he said, and heard the roughness in his own voice, and wondered if she heard it, too. Not that it mattered—there was no way to hide it. It was too much. He had never wanted like this before... She understood him, laughed when he laughed, saw through the defenses he put up to what was underneath. There was no Jace Wayland more real than the one he saw in her eyes when she looked at him… All he knew was that whatever he had to owe to Hell or Heaven for this chance, he was going to make it count. He...whispered in her ear. “You can close your eyes and think of England, if you like,” he said. Her eyes fluttered shut, her lashes coppery lines against her pale, fragile skin. “I’ve never even been to England,” she said, and the softness, the anxiety in her voice almost undid him. He had never kissed a girl without knowing she wanted it too, usually more than he did, and this was Clary, and he didn’t know what she wanted. Her eyes were still closed, but she shivered, and leaned into him — barely, but it was permission enough. His mouth came down on hers. And that was it. All the self-control he’d exerted over the past weeks went, like water crashing through a broken dam. Her arms came up around his neck and he pulled her against him… His hands flattened against her back... and she was up on the tips of her toes, kissing him as fiercely as he was kissing her... He clung to her more tightly, knotting his hands in her hair, trying to tell her, with the press of his mouth on hers, all the things he could never say out loud... His hands slid down to her waist... he had no idea what he would have done or said next, if it would have been something he could never have pretended away or taken back, but he heard a soft hiss of laughter — the Faerie Queen — in his ears, and it jolted him back to reality. He pulled away from Clary before he it was too late, unlocking her hands from around his neck and stepping back... Clary was staring at him. Her lips were parted, her hands still open. Her eyes were wide. Behind her, Alec and Isabelle were gaping at them; Simon looked as if he was about to throw up. ...If there had ever been any hope that he could have come to think of Clary as just his sister, this — what had just happened between them — had exploded it into a thousand pieces... He tried to read Clary’s face — did she feel the same? … I know you felt it, he said to her with his eyes, and it was half bitter triumph and half pleading. I know you felt it, too…She glanced away from him... He whirled on the Queen. “Was that good enough?” he demanded. “Did that entertain you?” The Queen gave him a look: special and secretive and shared between the two of them. “We are quite entertained," she said. “But not, I think, so much as the both of you.

Where's Kraven? Is he stalking me too?" His mouth went tight. "I'm not stalking you.

Whisper me a kiss… Softly… softly brushing my cheek As an - Oh! - so delicate caress… A gentle kiss upon my fingertips, So healing in its tenderness… Breathing your kiss upon my mouth, You softly whisper me a kiss… Oh! Whisper me a kiss… In your sweet breath is the promise Wafting me gently to a healing space This oft tossed ship carried ‘pon your breath Oh! Let me harbor in your embrace! Oh love… again… whisper me a kiss… Set us free to sail ‘cross time and space. Oh! Again… Whisper me a kiss… In your arms, the promise of forever… Shining as stars in your ebony eyes Come my love, tomorrow’s our dawn… Floating free as the star flies Our love, the vessel… you, my tether… On whispered kisses, together we’ll rise. Softly… Softly… Whisper me a kiss… "Whisper Me A Kiss" by D. Denise Dianaty © 30 August 2014

Will your dad freak if I kiss you good-bye?” he asked.

Why am I fixated on that man? I don't want to realise that now. That I want him to love me. I want him to love me. I want him to love me so much I could die.

Why may you not kiss me?” she had demanded. “Am I a corpse?” “Of course not.” “Do you find me less attractive now that weather and wind have scoured the bloom from my cheeks?” “Skaytha, it’s nothing like that. If anything you are more beautiful now than when we lived on Skyrl. Often enough I have no breath when I look at you. You rob me of any other thoughts.” “So you’re afraid my kisses will take what little brain you have left?” “I’m afraid the angels will do something I don’t want them to do if I fly in the face of their commands, commands I can only assume are divine as well as angelic.” “Did you ever think to ask them the reasons behind their demands?” “When it is an angel I just want to get out of the conversation alive or at least without being struck dumb. So I don’t prolong the chat.” “You might have wanted my kisses more than that. If you had any romance in you you’d have told them you were ready to fight ten legions of angels for my love.” Hawk had reached out to hold her. “If I’d told them that they might have taken me up on it. Angels are not just useful for gallant flourishes the moment you declare your intention to battle all comers for the woman you love. Angels burn like fire and blaze like a hundred suns – they strike fear in my heart.” She had pulled away from his embrace and jumped to her feet. “Oh, no, you don’t. If I’m not good enough to kiss I’m not good enough to take in your arms either. It’s angels or me. Make up your mind whom you fear more. Or love more.” “I don’t love the angels.” “Clearly you don’t love me either.” They had been in a tipi. She’d gone to the opening, lifted the flap, bent, and stalked away, passing by warriors of the tribe with her head as high as a goddess and her back as straight as the shaft of the spear. The chief had poked his head in. “All is well, Hawk?’ he had asked. Hawk had learned their tongue. “It couldn’t be better,” Hawk had responded. “Only being slain in battle would be greater than this.” The chief had thought this over and laughed. "That would bring you great honor." "I am in short supply of honor right now and such short supply never pleases a woman like her. Better to die at the end of a spear and have it for a few moments and win her back." The chief had nodded. "Sound wisdom. Would you like to join a raiding party against our enemy tonight?" "I couldn't be happier." (from The Name of the Hawk, Book 2)

Why send him away then?" Serena's gaze dropped to Drake's chest as she shook her head. She couldn't say it. Just the thought set her cheeks aflame. "I know how you could tell for certain." There was a wicked smile in his voice that sent another shaft of thrill through her. She shivered. "How?" "Have you kissed him?" She took a sudden indrawn breath. "No, of course not. W-why should I kiss him?" He reached for her then, pulling her close, grasping her face between his palms. "Because if he cannot make you feel like this, then you will never love him." She waited as his lips hovered over hers, the moon itself seeming to pause in its revolution looking down upon them with the stars in sudden interest. Serena wanted this- wanted him- with an intensity she hadn't dreamed she possessed. He held her captive with the black depths of his eyes. There lay a road to a place of sensual abandonment, but a way fraught with the rocky cliffs of uncertainty and adversity. Acceptance meant surrendering this life for the unknown. Dare she accept his challenge? Dare she throw her lot in with a man who was still, in so many ways, a dark and dangerous stranger? His breath moved over her face, and she strained to reach him, to touch him. The relief when his lips finally touched hers was profound. Like the last time, she swam in a maelstrom of whirling emotions. Unfamiliar sounds came from her throat because of the force of his mouth as she gave free rein to the desire to press into him. She breathed him in, wanting to be as close as she could, clinging to his broad shoulders.

Who reads? Not that I begrudge my life in book. All I know about the world I've learned from them. But a description of a tree is not a tree, and a thousand paper kisses will never equal the feel of Olly's lips against mine.

Why would I want to watch other people kissing," I say, "when I could be kissing you?

With a kiss you’ll know all I’ve kept quiet.

With kisses your mouth taught me my lips came to know fire.

Within everyone there is a place, hidden deep inside, which yearns for 'that' kiss. You know the one I mean, the one that sends your senses reeling, leaving you breathless and when you break away, and finally regain your senses, you know you will never see the world in the same light...

With kisses like that, I wish this was the Universe where you were my soulfinder.

With one kiss, my life had been altered. It would follow a different path now. One where a woman owned my heart.

With no filter, he said, "I thought it would have been softer. It was kinda salty...

...without knowing why, he yielded to the temptation of those lips and flung onto them, eating them, partaking of their sacrament... Eucharist of love with a red host!

Without thinking, I step a little closer, reaching out slowly to slide a fingertip over the largest petal of the lily tattoo on her lower back. Instantly a vibration moves up my arm, and I swear the mark on my hand burns against my skin. I clench my fingers into a fist, but I don’t step away. “Did you feel that?” she asks. I shake my head. “I don’t know.” I feel so much, always so much. She takes my hand and brings it to her side again, resting it on the violets. I look at the purple flowers between my fingers and feel the heat of her skin, the way it slides beneath my palm, soft as silk. And that vibration moves through my arm again. Her breath quickens. I find myself moving closer as her blue eyes go wide with wonder. My heart stutters and my chest aches with some unknown need. “Are you doing this?” I ask. Is she making me want this? “No,” she breathes. The smell of her turns to spice, sharp and warm, and I know I’m sensing her now, even through the block in the house. We stand like that for an eternity, still as statues on the outside, but inside I’m running, running toward a place I’ve never been. I should be terrified. But all I feel is strength. Rightness. And then Kara moves, her hands skimming up my chest, testing the boundaries. Her palms slide to my shoulders, her fingers tracing the line of the muscles in my arms, down to my waist. She grips my shirt, stretching it a little, waiting for me to tell her to stop. But I watch her lift it, let her pull it up, raising my arms, and I even take the last of it off myself, dropping it to the floor. We breathe, staring at each other. The vibrations move between us. My left arm buzzes with them. I think she’s doing it. Whatever’s happening, it’s her. I reach up and brush my marked knuckles across her cheek, amazed at the feel of her, the way her eyes seem to see everything, the way she pulls me into her. I can’t seem to remember why I shouldn’t kiss her. And kiss her. And . . . I kiss her, taking her face in both hands, skimming my thumb over her jaw as she leans into the touch, reaching out to curl her fingers around the back of my neck. I have to remind myself to breathe. I need more of her. The emotions roll over me in a rush, a tangle of sensation and movement, heat and sugar and heady aromas. I grip her tighter. Her nails dig into my shoulders. My hands slide down her spine. The kiss deepens, goes on forever, until I can barely see sense. I explore her shape, the feel of her ribs, the textures and taste of her skin on my tongue as I kiss her neck, her shoulders, her chest. As I draw trembling gasps from her lips, she grips me so hard it hurts. Our bodies mesh. Our breath mingles in frenzied desperation. Nothing else exists except her. Her warmth. Her spice. Her.

With you Every kiss is a poem Every touch is narrative prose Our love is an unending saga Infinite Eternal.

With The Dread, first kiss was the beginning. Second kiss was the end.

You ask if I will write a poem I could, I suppose write the most splendiferous one of all but not right now not when your hands are brewing warm cinnamon tea across my skin not when I’m trying to imagine what might happen if you began flowering kisses upon me My dear, how can I write a poem when I’m already inside one?

Yes, he knew it was crazy to be this obsessed over an encounter that had taken up maybe sixty seconds of his life. (Or had it been an hour and sixty seconds?) But what an encounter. His fingers still felt the bones and flesh through her sweater, his tongue still tasted her mysterious bitter-greens mouth, her voice still haunted him with that whispered 'Help me.

You bastard,” she gasped. “No, Mamá insists I am born of a marriage,” he protested and claimed a hot, wet kiss, pulling her under his spell again.

WRAP ME UP I shiver. He pulls away. "Are you cold?" he asks. "A little. Plus... you know." "What?" "Um... your kisses?" He laughs, pulls me down onto the blanket and wraps his arms and legs around me. Perfect. My kind of blanket.

Years ago you followed someone here, in love with breath kissing the nape of your neck, back when it was easy to be at least two places at once.

You are a bright light, Elli.’ His own breath hitches, a sound that I cannot quite grasp. His eyes are darkening, his lips tightening. His hands grasp me tighter and he moves closer, his mouth inches from mine, I can almost taste the sweetness and saltiness of his scent, the rich coffee beans and sugar, the vague spearmint. I say nothing, I’m not even sure I’m breathing. ‘You shouldn’t have to see such pain, such blackness. You are too pure.’ His lips do not collide with mine, his skin does not brush against me, only his voice sends a shiver down every notch in my spine, trailing goose bumps over my skin. He tilts his head to the side, his lips gently brushing against my ear. And that is all. I’m not good enough for him. I’m not. That’s why… that’s why… ‘Too pure…

You call that a kiss?" "Yep." Okay, so I'm in shock the girl put my hand on her creamy cheek. Damn, you'd think I was on drugs by the way my body reacted. She had me totally under her spell a minute ago. Then the pretty witch turned my game around so she was the one with the upper hand.

You can always tell what the pussy will be like, when you kiss the lips.

You jumped like a frog. You touched like a dog. You kissed like a bird.

You could die tomorrow, you don't think you should kiss her today?

You’d kiss me back right now if I kissed you,” he said, and I tried to decide whether to even attempt denial. “But then you’d remember him and you’d feel bad for it.

...you have me,” Astrid said. “Do I?” “Yes.” That drained the anger and frustration from him like someone had pulled a plug. For a long moment he was lost, gazing into her eyes. She was very close. His heart shifted to a deeper rhythm that vibrated his whole body. There were just inches between them. He closed the distance by half, stopped. “I can’t kiss you with your little brother watching,” he said. Astrid stepped back, took Little Pete by the shoulders, and turned him so he was facing away. “How about now?

You kissed me once and now you feel as if you’ve got some special kind of licence to do it whenever you want?

You kissed me that morning as if you’d never done it before and never would again and now I write another letter that I will never dare to send, collecting memories of loss like chains tight around my chest, and if you see a fire from the shore tonight it’s my chains going up in flames.

You look at me with them eyes of yers, an I look at yer lips... an all I can think about is what it'ud be like to kiss you.

You convinced me that you're a good kisser, that doesn't mean you like me." "I'm here pretending to be your boyfriend with the possibility of getting zero benefits from you. Trust me kitten, I like you. I like you a whole lottle, remember?

You'd better close those lips before I'm tempted to kiss them and really give you something to be all hot and bothered about.

You don’t understand,” Mairelon said dully. “Kim doesn’t want to marry a toff.” Was that what was bothering him? “Well, of all the bacon-brained, sapskulled, squirish, buffle-headed nod cocks!” Kim said with as much indignation as she could muster. “I was talking about the marquis, not about you!” Mairelon’s eyes kindled. “Then you would?” “You’ve whiddled it,” Kim informed him. As he kissed her again, she heard Mrs. Lowe murmur, “Mind your language, Kim,” and Shoreham say in an amused tone, “Yes, Your Grace, I believe that was an affirmative answer.