Best 383 quotes in «flirting quotes» category

In that case, hell, I'll even spring for the coffee. Unless you're some kind of damned tea-drinking Englishman, in which case you can buy your own dirty leafy water." "Drink tea in America?" Jeremy's eyebrow twitched upwards in disbelief. "I'm not that sort of masochist. Coffee, at least, has the benefit of being horrible the world over, so it doesn't matter where you get it." Simon eyed him narrowly. "And to think I was almost not hating you." Jeremy blinked, feigning confusion. "Goodness. Did I say something wrong?

I rolled on my side and propped myself on my elbow. “I told you how that happened. I just got the instructions mixed up. This is Approach No. 2, known as the waiting game. You want me to explain how it works? You take these two citizens, A and B, we’ll call ‘em—“ She laughed, and picked up the charcoal stick again. “All right. I’ve been warned. But didn’t your instruction book warn you?” “About what?” I asked. “That your Approach No. 2, as you call it, won’t work after it’s been explained.” “Killjoy. Now I’ve got to buy a new manual.

I shan't mind if you don't," he agreed. "But I'll not let you go, Prudence. Til not pester you, but know this: I will wait until you choose to listen to your heart." "Pshaw." It was a feeble effort. She took a deep breath and tried again. "Humbug! How can you presume to know my heart?" He smiled a slow, devastating smile. "You are my heart." He lifted her hand and kissed it. "And our hearts beat in tune. I know it—I, who used not to believe in such things. And you know it.

Is it fair to say we're just two adults who find the other interesting?" "That's all I would say." "No hidden agenda?" "None" "Have breakfast with me?" "How could I refuse?

Is there anything I can do?" He gave her a tired grin. "Crawl in bed with me." She glared at him, then got up and tossed him a terry-cloth robe she found hanging on the back of the bathroom door. "Meet me in the kitchen. I'll make you a sandwich." "You don't need to make me a sandwich." "But I'm going to." She left the room before he could protest further. In the kitchen, she layered grilled pancetta, tomato and lettuce on toasted thick slabs of sourdough. She added some chopped cornichons, Dijon mustard and fresh snipped tarragon to the mayo, just to show off. Around Bella Vista, her PLT's were legendary. Mac wasn't wearing the robe when he came downstairs. He'd thrown on a pair of lived-in cutoffs, faded in all the right places, and a rumpled but clean T-shirt with a logo from a kiteboarding resort in Australia. She cut the sandwich into quarters and set it on a pottery plate, along with a side of grapes and parmesan chips, and a beer in a frosty mug. He regarded the small feast on the table. "I hope you don't mind if I moan in ecstasy while I eat this." "I'd rather you didn't," she said, helping herself to a quarter of the sandwich. "Cook's tax," she explained.

I stopped at a red light, turned my head, and allowed myself to enjoy the handsomeness that was Brent. He noticed my staring and asked, "What?" "As if you don't know. You're not the type of guy that a girl gets tired of looking at." "Oh. Well in that case, you're welcome to look all you want," he said and gestured to himself. "You're allowed to touch, too." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. I lowered my voice into its sexy-husky range. "I was hoping you'd say that." With my flirtiest look on my face, I rubbed my hand slowly up his arm and then pinched him firmly on the shoulder. "Ow!" Brent rubbed his shoulder and grinned. "Not what I had in mind!

Is that your idea of flirting? Get half naked and tease me with your talk of sheep?

I think poverty is not the worst thing in the world, blindness is, because blind people cannot see your beauty.

I thought you weren’t going to do that sort of thing.” “I’m not going to seduce you without invitation,” Heilyn clarified, “but I’m still allowed to flirt, and that was flirting.” “I think you’re changing these rules as we go along.” “More fun that way, isn’t it?

I thought of writing a summary about you, but when I finished it was a book.

I think you're cute and grammatical, too.

Lust and flirting are dangerous because at first they are not noticeable.

It's not who, it's when

It wouldn't kill you to flirt a little, so I don't remember this assignment as totally sucking. I'm babysitting a guy who thinks he's a leprechaun, and I'm rescuing a has-been horse. The least you could do I grab my ass once in a while.

I’ve been looking at all the ordinary staples of flirting," says Julia, "like biting your lip and looking away just a second too late, and laughing a lot and finding every excuse to touch, light fingertips on a forearm or a thigh that emphasize and punctuate the laughter. I’ve been thinking about what a comfort these things are, these textbook methods, precisely because they need no decoding, no translation. Once, a long time ago, you could probably bite your lip and it would mean, I am almost overcome with desiring you. Now you bite your lip and it means, I want you to see that I am almost overcome with desiring you, so I am using the plainest and most universally accepted symbol I can think of to make you see. Now it means, Both of us know the implications of my biting my lip, and what I am trying to say. We are speaking a language, you and I together, a language that we did not invent, a language that is not unique to our uttering. We are speaking someone else’s lines. It’s a comfort.

I was always useless at flirting, and simply did not know what needed to be done in order to snare my target... I always ended up resorting to jokes, and most men don't like funny women. They like to do the jokes.

I wasn't concerned, but I was thinking that the fastest way to get your mind off him and on me would be to tell you something truly appalling about him.

I was trying to seduce him just by being physically near him. Like, seduction by osmosis. It works in movies constantly.

Love begins with the stage of subconscious primitive lust and attraction. I’m saying primitive because at this very early stage there is really no difference between primitive man and modern man.

Males of all species are made for wooing females, and females typically choose among their suitors. If you take a closer look, you can observe such behavior all around you. The beautiful bird chirping outside your window. It’s a mating call. That pretty little bird is trying to attract a potential mate, so that it can propagate its genes. Why does the peacock have such beautiful feathers? It is to attract a healthy female. He as well is trying to propagate his genes. Even we humans, are not much different from the rest of the animal kingdom when it comes to attracting potential mates. When women dress up for their night out at the club, they are doing so to look attractive. This is a subconscious evolutionary desire to attract as many potential mates as possible.... While women tend to grab attention with their looks, men on the other hand, tend to attract as many potential females as possible, by showing off their resources. When a man shows off with his fancy car, expensive gold watch and suit, or flexes his muscles and brags about how many credit cards he owns, he’s doing so to make himself desirable by healthy women, in order to propagate his genes. It is all in the pursuit of reproduction.

it’s fun talking to you… like walking on the edge of a precipice. At first one’s nervous but then courage takes over from somewhere.

It's like playing the lottery. It doesn't matter how extremely low the chances are of winning. You gotta be in it to win it. Hitting on every girl in sight is like buying a whole lot of lottery tickets. You never know, one day one of them might actually pay off.

It's so weird that adults in committed relationships have a problem with something so innocuous as flirting. I would never expect you to walk around with a paper bag over your head to avoid catching the eye of a stranger, nor would I discourage you making friendly conversation with whomever you might encounter during the day. And if you needed to fuck somebody else, we could talk about it. People change, our desires evolve, and it feels foolish to me to expect what you'll want two, five, or ten years from now will be exactly the same thing that fills you up today. I mean, the way I feel about fidelity has evolved over the last ten years of my life. It's a hard-and-fast rule that we don't apply to any other thing in our lives: YOU MUST LOVE THIS [SHOW/BOOK/FOOD/SHIRT] WITH UNWAVERING FERVOR FOR THE REST OF YOUR NATURAL LIFE. Could you imagine being forced to listen to your favorite record from before your music tastes were refined for the rest of your life? Right now I'm pretty sure I could listen to Midnight Snack by HOMESHAKE for the rest of my life, but me ten years ago was really into acoustic Dave Matthews, and I'm not sure how I feel about that today. And yes, I am oversimplifying it, but really, if in seven years you want to have sex with the proverbial milkman, just let me know about it beforehand so I can hide my LaCroix and half eaten wedge of port salut. ('Milkmen' always eat all the good snacks.)

I was thinking you could come out here for breakfast. I'll cook. " "You cook?" "Breakfast." "You're bribing me with breakfast to tell you why I left Colorado?" Eric Shrugged. "You're bribing me with lunch just so to get me alone at my house.

Male aggressiveness consists in asking a woman to have intercourse and waiting for her to say yes, or a definite no. Skilful tacticians enhance their chances of making out by distributing their attentions among several women at a time (one version of 'playing the field') thus increasing their statistical chances for a favorable answer, depending on circumstances. This is the height of male aggressiveness that is tolerated. Genuine aggressiveness - rape - [men] have forbidden themselves by law.

Mary Farquhar, who always flirts with her own husband across the dinner-table. That is not very pleasant. Indeed, it is not even decent . . . and that sort of thing is enormously on the increase. The amount of women in London who flirt with their own husbands is perfectly scandalous. It looks so bad. It is simply washing one's clean linen in public...

Maybe before you start flirting with boys and kissing boys and trying to date boys, you should know who you are and where you stand.

Lucky for Joan, she was not watching when her devilish sons nearly knocked Layla off her feet in front of Fadden's Mini-Mart. "How's it going?" Peter winked at Layla as his brother let out a low whistle. Layla, having just sidestepped Benny Corcoran's admiration, was not prepared for the wily twins' attentions. With an enchanting combination of teenage timidity and self-assurance, she nodded briefly in their direction before ducking into the mini-mart. "Jaysus. Did you see her?" "See her? Michael, I think we've just witnessed a miracle.

Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus. Where are Angels like you are from?

Me? I'm being ridiculous? You're the one flirting for your thesis. What the hell kind of degree is that anyway? A doctorate of dick tease?

Mr. Haverbink bowed deeply, muscles rippling all up and down his back, and lumbered from the room. Miss Hisselpenny sighed and fluttered her fan. "Ah, for the countryside, what scenery there abides..., " quoth she. Miss Tarabotti giggled. "Ivy, what a positively wicked thing to say. Bravo.

My dear fellow, the way you flirt with Gwendolen is perfectly disgraceful. It is almost as disgraceful as the way Gwendolen flirts with you.

My spouse is my shield, my spouse is my strength.

My mouth went instantly dry as I looked at him, his eyes unwavering on mine. My heart thudded in my chest and all I could think was delicious, delicious, delicious.

My shoulder will never be the same. I expect you to nurse me back to health.'-Jace 'Just break the door down, will you?'-Clary

My mum, in addition to trying to mutilate me with lobsters, always told me that shy kids get nothing.

My version of flirting is looking at someone attractive multiple times and hoping they are more brave than I am.

Myths tend to spiral out of control. Do you howl at the full moon and steal maidens to devour?" "Depends on the maiden," he said. Was he flirting with me? Devouring didn't really go with flirting, but his tone of voice did. Was this how werewolves flirted? Hey, baby, if I had to kill any girl and eat her flesh, it would be you... clean sweep

Nature programmed the neurobiological processes of early love to appear as something beyond the primitive sexual cravings of the genitals. So, from an evolutionary standpoint, it all leads to copulation and reproduction, but from the perspective of the individual who has recently fallen head over heels in love with someone, it is mostly about a sensation of warmth and delight, and rarely of sexual nature.

No, I drank champagne and romped and tried to flirt, and was altogether abominable," said Meg reproachfully.

Ninety-nine years old and batting her eyelashes like a Chi O at a KA mixer.

Never hate that person who is flirting you, hate yourself because you are the person who create an opportunity to be flirted.

Now.' He said, 'I have to ask you three question. How old are you? Are you in love? And what in God’s name are you doing here?

Not that she wasn't hot - she was super, mega, hot - but not.. approachable. Like, not even the Rock would dare to whistle at her, if you know what I mean.

On to the library. And all through his time at the card catalog, combing the shelves, filling out the request cards, he danced a silent, flirtatious minuet of the eyes with a rosy-cheeked redhead in the biology section, pages of notes spread before her. All his life, he had had a yen for women in libraries. In a cerebral setting, the physical becomes irresistible. Also, he figured he was really more likely to meet a better or at least more compatible woman in a library than in a saloon. Ought to have singles libraries, with soups and salads, Bach and Mozart, Montaignes bound in morocco; place to sip, smoke, and seduce in a classical setting, noon to midnight. Chaucer's Salons, call them, franchise chain.

Relax, princess. If your prince arrives, I'll vacate. Just keeping you company. Besides, he should know better than to leave a beautiful girl waiting on him; someone else might swoop in and steal his prize." This man is insufferable. "I'm neither a princess nor a prize, nor a girl if you want to be specific about it." "I notice you didn't mind my calling you beautiful." The waitress comes over and asks what he would like. I begin to tell her he isn't staying, but he talks right over me. "The three-wine flight and a slice of the chestnut cream cake, please." Damn his eyes! That was the dessert I was most interested in: layers of chestnut cream, apricot glaze, and dark chocolate ganache.

Phoebe stared up at Mr. Ravenel with narrowed eyes. He was standing too close to her, his head and shoulders blocking the sunlight. "You should know that looming over me like that doesn't intimidate me," she said curtly. "I grew up with two very large brothers." He relaxed his posture instantly, hooking his thumbs in his trouser pockets. "I'm not trying to intimidate you. I'm taller. I can't help that." Hogwash, Phoebe thought. He knew quite well he'd been standing over her. But she was secretly amused by the sight of him trying so hard not to appear overbearing. "Don't think I couldn't cut you down to size," she warned. He gave her an innocent glance. "Just as long as you do it by hand." The smart-aleck remark surprised a laugh from her. Insolent rascal. West Ravenel smiled slightly, his gaze holding hers, and for a moment her throat tinged sweetly at the back, as if she'd just swallowed a spoonful of cool honey.

Say, you told me you thought Les Miserables was the greatest novel ever written. I think Vanity Fair is the greatest. Let's fight. - Joe Willard

Rowena Clark and I had met on the first day of our mixed media class. I’d sat down at her table and said, “Mind if I join you? Figure the best way to learn about art is to sit with a masterpiece.” Maybe I was in love, but I was still Adrian Ivashkov. Rowena had fixed me with a flat look. “Let’s get one thing straight. I can see through crap a mile away, and I like girls, not guys, so if you can’t handle me telling you what’s what, then you’d better take your one-liners and hair gel somewhere else. I don’t go to this school to put up with pretty boys like you. I’m here to face dubious employment options with a painting degree and then go get a Guinness after class.” I’d scooted my chair closer to the table. “You and I are going to get along just fine.

She was momentarily distracted by the way he held the book in his hands, his fingertips subtly caressing the kid-leather binding. He had princely hands; they were large and manly, full of strength, yet ineffably elegant. She routed a shivery-sweet memory of those smooth, warm hands gliding up under her skin. "You wished to see me, my lord?" she asked in a studiedly formal tone, one hand still on the door latch. " 'Come live with me and be my love, And we will some some new pleasures prove, Of golden sands and crystal brooks, With silken lines and silver hooks.' " Alice blinked in surprise. "I beg your pardon?" He slid her a disarming, rather wily smile, and continued in a low, magical singsong: " 'Thee will the river whispering run, Warmed by thine eyes more than the sun. And there the enamored fish will stay, Begging themselves they may betray. When thou wilt swim in that live bath, Each fish, which every channel hath, Will amorously to thee swim, Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.' " A blush crept into her cheeks as pink as the rose he had sent her, but she gave him an arch look. Did the cad really expect her to fall for this?