Best 383 quotes in «flirting quotes» category

Unfortunately, he still hadn’t asked for my number, or a date, or my hand in marriage, and my drink was getting low.

Vin looked down at the handkerchief. When a nobleman wants to court a lady seriously, he gives her a handkerchief.

Vote for Toby. Vote for Toby. Hey, baby. How you doin'?" Slight pause. "Vote for Toby.

Well I guess I should ask what your name is in case I slip and touch you without getting permission, I'd like to know who's punching me." She giggled and said, "Nah, you have permission but if you need a name it’s Sindy, S-I-N, not like the girl next door, and what should I call you, besides the man I want to get naked?” He said “Keith, and if you want me to be the boy next door I can try, but I’ll probably fail.” She said- “Nope the boy next door is too much like the one whose nose I just tried to break; you can be the sexy stranger.

We call him Felix. Doesn't hold with titles, do you, Viscount?" "A luxury only the titled can afford, I'm sure," said Sophronia. "Don't worry, Ria," a molasses voice whispered near her ear. "You will call me Felix, regardless." A fan snapped down between them. "None of that! No vampire would ever be so intimate!" Lady Linette did not hold with obvious flirting. Flirting, yes, but not obvious flirting.

What a lovely jaw," she murmured, admiring the clean edge. "I've never properly appreciated it before." West waited until the blade lifted from his skin before replying. "I was just thinking the same thing about your breasts.

What are we talking about again?” he asks. I say science at the same time that he says love, and we both laugh. “What are the ingredients?” he prompts me again. “Mutual self-interest and socioeconomic compatibility.” “Do you even have a soul?” “No such thing as a soul,” I say.

We sat there smiling at each other, shimmied to a standstill, thinking about all the boys that had wanted us that day, and how none of them had got us, not for a minute; how we'd let them pay for drinks and candyfloss and then run away laughing, their cries of 'Slags!' and 'Bitches' ringing in our ears like respect rather than derision.

What an expression of relief, my dear fiancée. However did you make your way through London society with such a revealing face? Not that I object, you understand." Leaning toward her, Mr. Knight smiled with the kind of intimate bewitchment that made her swallow to relieve her suddenly dry mouth. "When a woman is as beautiful as you are, she's usually adept at hiding her emotions. With you, I'll always know what gives you pleasure, and strive always to do as you wish.

What can I do?” his gaze on me was intense, like I was some sort of love guru or something. I almost laughed out loud at how unqualified I was for that position.

What if I shave?" he said. "I look much better when I'm shaved. My cousin will vouch for that—do I not look almost handsome when I shave, Edward? " He didn't wait for the duke's reply but turned earnestly back to Prudence. "Do you think you could marry me if I shaved?

What if the person is doing something that seems diametrically opposed to flirting, like going about their daily activities completely unaware of your existence? They are probably flirting a little bit. Aren’t they coy!

When she looked at him with those dark eyes, Nassar felt the urge to say something intelligent and deeply impressive. Unfortunately, nothing of the kind came to mind.

What kind of woman tells all her secrets?” my mother continued, flabbergasted and disappointed in me. “Especially anything that has to do with your body making babies! I know a woman who had no ovaries when she got married. Her husband found out only years later that they couldn’t have children. The two of them are happy together still; they live in a big house, and have a cute dog.

When I think about you, You are love. But when I get to know that You are fake. I hate you, I hate you very much :'(

Where are we heading?” “The closest wooded area to here is Kenwood Academy’s estate. Good place to hide, especially at night.” “If we’re going into the woods, I definitely need to change.” I glanced back at her as we returned to the curb where the cab had dropped us off. “Or you could just go home.” She crossed her arms and avoided my gaze, scowling. “You’re sick of me already? That must be a record.” I lifted my eyes to the heavens. Women. “This creature tore out a woman’s throat and busted her chest cavity open like a piñata. I don’t like the thought of it being anywhere near you.” “Did it ever occur to you that I feel the same way?” Surprise flooded over me. “No, it…actually didn’t.” “I know I’m not as strong or as smart as you are, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help. We’re partners, aren’t we?” “Yeah,” I said, and couldn’t stop the smile creeping across my lips. “I guess we are.” She tossed a quick look at me and frowned. “Quit it.” “What?” “I hate it when you do that.” “You hate it when I smile?” “No, when you make that, ‘aw, she does have a heart’ face. You look like a Disney prince.” I laughed. “My bad. I’ll work on that.

...Where we got to know eachother. Not just with words, it was how we observed eachother's movements. The way your smile only effected the lower half of your face. How our hands moved when they were close: as if they had minds of their own.

Why are you here?" she asked. "I came to apologize," he said. "I was... discourteous yesterday." "No, you were rude." "You're right. I'm truly sorry." At her lack of response, Christopher fumbled for words. He, who had once spoken to women so glibly. "I've been too long in rough company. Since I left the Crimea, I find myself reacting irritably without cause. I... words are too important for me to be so careless with them." Perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought her face softened a little. "You don't have to be sorry for disliking me," she said. "Only for being discourteous." "Rude," Christopher corrected. "And I don't." "You don't what?" she asked with a frown. "Dislike you. That is... I don't know you well enough to either like or dislike you." "I'm fairly certain, Captain," she said, "that the more you discover about me, the more you will dislike me. Therefore, let's cut to the chase and acknowledge that we don't like each other. Then we won't have to bother with the in-between part." She was so bloody frank and practical about the whole thing that Christopher couldn't help but be amused. "I'm afraid I can't oblige you." "Why not?" "Because when you said that just now, I found myself starting to like you." "You'll recover," she said. Her decisive tone made him want to smile. "It's getting worse, actually," he told her. "Now I'm absolutely convinced that I like you.

Wonderful, darling Oksana, allow me to kiss you!" the encouraged blacksmith said and pressed her to him with the intention of snatching a kiss; but Oksana withdrew her cheeks, which were a very short distance from the blacksmith's lips, and pushed him away. "What more do you want? He's got honey and asks for a spoon! Go away, your hands are harder than iron. And you smell of smoke. I suppose you've made me all sooty.

With you as an inspiration, a painter will create his best painting, a writer will write his best literature and a poet will create his best poetry.

Women have got it all wrong now. They give it up too soon, and the men don't respect them. And before you tell me I don't have a clue, let me tell you something. By the time I let my future husbands climb into my bed, I'd made them work for it. And you know what? By the time they left it the next morning, they were begging for me to marry them.

Yeah. But aren't you good at your job? Isn't this what you've been training for, putting in time at that Dallas news station, hoping for your big break? He flashed a grin at her."Baby, I'm your big break.

You are much better off flirting as it is causeless.

Yeah, he’s just a huge flirt. He flirted with me, every female reporter within eyeshot, some of the men, and a pot plant on the way into his office. It’s pathological.

Yeah, well. Don’t be that guy, Brady. Don’t be the guy who loves his horse too much.

You don’t have to be worried, okay? You don’t have to be scared.” His voice is twinkling again. “I’m not flirting with you.” Embarrassment sweeps through me. Flirting. A dirty word. He thinks I think he’s flirting. “I’m not—I don’t think you were—I would never think that you—” The words collide in my mouth, and now I know there’s no amount of darkness that can cover the rush of red to my face. He cocks his head to the side. “Are you flirting with me, then?” “What? No,” I splutter. My mind is spinning blindly in a panic, and I realize I don’t even know what flirting is. I just know about it from textbooks; I just know that it’s bad. Is it possible to flirt without knowing you’re flirting? Is he flirting? My left eye goes full flutter.

You are pretty, aren’t you?” Rosika frowned. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.

You can cook with diamond oil and do backflips in bed but if he has no respect for you, he has no respect for you. - Unknown

You caught me, I was definitely dreaming of you. If I remember correctly, you were frolicking on a beach, wearing a pretty skimpy red bikini and some kind of flower in your hair. Gotta say that was the best dream I’ve ever had.” ~Bryan

You drink milk out of the carton while in your underwear?" Alex laughed. "You've never done that? Gotten up in the middle of the night and wanted a snack?" "Yes, but I wouldn't bother to put on my underwear." He watched my face as his words sank in. "What do you...oh." I frowned. "Wouldn't that be cold?

You don't like birthdays, Aelan?" The silver eyes ran over her gently. "Because I can help you love birthdays...trust me." ~Nolan

You don’t run from someone and expect them to follow unless you want a stalker," he said. "You fool. All I wanted was to play hide-n-seek!

You never listen to me anymore. Before, if I was talking to you, you would always listen. But now you have no time to even talk to me. 'Yeah... Has Keaty told you not to eat the Stew?' 'Richard!' I frowned 'What?' 'You are not listening to me!' '… Oh. Well I'm sorry. I've got a lot on my mind.' 'Not me.' 'Huh?' 'I am not on your mind.' 'Uh... of course you are.' 'I am not' she poked me in the ribs. 'I think you do not love me anymore.' I looked at her in astonishment '… Are you serious?' 'Very serious' she said petulantly 'But... I mean... do we have to talk about this right now?' 'Yes. It must be now. Etienne is not here, and maybe soon I will never see you agai...' 'Francoise!' I hissed. 'Keep it down!' 'Maybe I should keep it down but maybe I should not. In the dope field, when I would not be quiet, you pushed me to the ground and held me tightly'. She giggled. 'It was very exciting'.

You heard Alanna. Someone’s got to be on you at all times.” His dark eyes glinted with a hot sort of mischief, his double entendre clear as day.

You’re just a figment of my imagination. A fantasy?” “Yes.” He didn’t dare move. “Then why are you still wearing clothes?

Your daughter is delightful!" Sejanus was saying to Aelia. I gripped the edge of the bench and bit my tongue as he spoke. "She is a living testament to the good looks that seem to follow the gens Aelia." Aelia smiled. "Cousin, you flatter me." Sejanus had set the tone for the evening with the clear slight against the Gavia clan. "It's only a shame I share the name through adoption- not blood- or who knows how much more attractive I might have been!" Nearby guests laughed at the joke but to me it seemed the true intent was to point out that Apicius had, at least at one time, found him attractive. Sejanus looked directly at Apicius directly as he spoke, a smile on his face. Apicius gave away nothing. He waved a boy over with a tray. "Have you tried the fried hare livers, Sejanus?" Apicata jumped up and down and smiled at her father. "May I? May I?" Her father smiled. Apicata could always melt his heart. "Only one and don't share with Perseus!" The serving boy lowered the tray so she could reach for the liver but not so low that the jumping puppy could steal treats for himself. She snatched a morsel and popped it into her mouth. I knew what she tasted, a sublime mixture of textures, the crispy breaded exterior and the smooth, sumptuous richness of the liver itself. The combination is unexpected. When I first introduced the recipe, it immediately became a family favorite. Apicata turned to Sejanus. She did not appear to recognize him from the market. "Oh, you must try! These are my favorite!" "If you say so, I must try!" Sejanus reached for the tray. He took a bite of the liver and surprise registered in his eyes. Sejanus reached for another liver. "Where on earth did you find your cook?" "Baiae." Aelia reached for her own sample. "Thrasius's cooking is always exceptional. Wait until you try the hyacinth bulbs!" "Hyacinth bulbs are one of my favorites." Sejanus ran his fingers affectionately through Apicata's hair as he talked. I stared, wondering what his intentions were. My right eye began to twitch. Apicius nodded at Passia to come forward and collect Apicata and her puppy. The girl went begrudgingly and only after Sejanus had planted a kiss on her forehead and promised he would visit again soon.

You’re like a picture; you ought to be enclosed in a gilt frame and stand against the wall.

A big part of letting go is recognizing when it is time to stay in a situation and when it is time to move on.

Your mouth says "No," but your eyes say, "Fuck me until your dick breaks off inside me and fuses into some kind of barbie doll crotch.

A democracy flirts with the danger of becoming a slave in direct ratio to the numbers of its citizens who work, but do not own / or who own, but do not work; or who distribute, as politicians do, but do not produce. The danger of the "slave state" disappears in ratio to the numbers of people who own property and admit its attendant responsibilities under God. They can call their souls their own because they own and administer something other than their souls. Thus they are free.

All my life I've been seeing things through the culture. My father, for instance, was the press's bad boy. People really hated him. He was always a big flirt. He was always in trouble - going bankrupt, whatever.

A flirt is like a dipper attached to a hydrant; every one is at liberty to drink from it, but no one desires to carry it away.

A lot of people try to use sarcasm to flirt, and it tends not to read well. Most people who are successful at flirting do so via instant message instead of email. The best way to flirt is to care deeply about whatever your date is saying and to focus all of your attention on him or her. Ask thoughtful questions. Take a keen interest in the conversation. Be enthusiastic.

All of the women on The Apprentice flirted with me - consciously or unconsciously. That's to be expected.

And while my mind is telling me I'm flirting with her just to prove a point, my body wants to play "you show me your perky privates and I'll show you mine.

Are you flirting with me?

And they beat. The women for having known them and no more, no more; the children for having been them but never again. They killed a boss so often and so completely they had to bring him back to life to pulp him one more time. Tasting hot mealcake among pine trees, they beat it away. Singing love songs to Mr. Death, they smashed his head. More than the rest, they killed the flirt whom folks called Life for leading them on.

At the end of the day, flirting is a pretty universal language. Americans are more direct. British people are more indirect about everything

As the excitement of the game increases, prudence is sure to diminish.

A tease is a con. You press a spot because you know that it can be pressed, and while the sucker is feeling the pleasure or the pain resulting from the pressure, you take something from him. ...A flirt doesn't do that. A flirt does a dance within the context of giving pleasure. Referring to this, referring to that. And suddenly, following the references, you find a little surprise. Nothing enormous. Nothing like 'Feed on me.' Nothing like that. Something small with a bow on it. It's a pleasure. A surprise, and a *gift*.