Best 124 quotes in «kisses quotes» category

A blooming flower pleads, oh thee! Look at me, to see the beauty, Kiss me like a bee, To feel the bliss, To taste the nectar of life And just to feel and be. Kiss me like a wave kisses the shore In an endless dancing sea, again and again, just to be.

Ah, in those earliest days of love how naturally the kisses spring into life! So closely, in their profusion, do they crowd together that lovers would find it as hard to count the kisses exchanged in an hour as to count the flowers in a meadow in May.

A kiss…. ….. is just a kiss…. Until it’s all you reminisce. (Then the memory becomes your most treasured possession.)

All these thoughts flashed through Amelia’s mind in one searing mass. But as she stiffened and waited for the ax to fall, Rohan came to her in two long strides. And before Amelia could move, or think, or even breathe, he had jerked her full length against him, and pulled her head to his. Rohan kissed her with an indecent frankness that sent her reeling. His arms were firm around her, keeping her steady while his mouth caught hers at just the right angle. Her hands moved in tentative objection, her palms encountering the tough muscles of his chest, the catch of his shirt buttons. He was the only solid thing in a kaleidoscopic world. She stopped pushing as her body absorbed the arousing details of him, the hard masculine contours, the fresh outdoors scent, the sensuous probing of his mouth. She had relived his kiss a thousand times in her dreams. She just hadn’t realized it until now. Graceful fingers cupped around her neck and jaw, turning her face upward. The tips of his fingers found the fine skin behind her ears, where it met the silken edge of her hairline. And all the while he continued to fill her with concentrated fire, until the inside of her mouth prickled sweetly and her legs shook beneath her. He used his tongue delicately, exploring without haste, entering her repeatedly while she clung to him in bewildered pleasure. His mouth lifted, his breath a hot caress against her lips. He turned his head as he spoke to whoever had entered the room. “I beg your pardon, my lord. We wanted a moment of privacy.” Amelia turned crimson as she followed his gaze to the doorway, where Lord Westcliff stood with an unfathomable expression. An electric moment passed while Westcliff appeared to marshal his thoughts. His gaze moved to Amelia’s face, then back to Rohan’s. A smile flickered in his dark eyes. “I intend to return in approximately a half hour. It would probably be best if my study were vacated by then.” Giving a courteous nod, he took his leave. As soon as the door closed behind him, Amelia dropped her forehead to Rohan’s shoulder with a groan. She would have pulled away, but she didn’t trust her knees to hold. “Why did you do that?” He didn’t look at all repentant. “I had to come up with a reason for both of us to be in here. It seemed the best option.

All those kisses. There must have been a thousand. They engulfed me like some kind of all consuming dream where I became very alive and very relaxed at the same time.

And his eyes were fluttering shut, and his sinner’s smile- that wickedly wondrous thing- was less than an inch from mine. And soon enough, there was no space between them at all. He tasted like chances.

And you know what? My kisses are mine. I don't have to explain them to anyone, I'll give them out as I see fit and to whomever I want. Like money. Except that everyone has kisses, they're much more democratic, and a lot more dangerous too, since they put us all on the same level. And if you did the same, if we all did the same, the world might be a little more chaotic but a lot more fun.

At the risk of hurting your feelings, I think you should know that some kisses are more special than others.

Because I want to know if I'm allowed to kiss your tears away. Because I want to be able to hold your hand. Because I like you.

Beware a kiss, he told her. Kisses are powerful things. You expose part of your soul.

Boyfriend, huh?” Maddox asks me. “Unless the label freaks you out. I know you’re not a fan of those.” “I like the boyfriend label.” He kisses me again.

But I'm here to let you know That I'll love you like you deserve I'll treat you right And on a cold, cold night I'll shower you in hugs & kisses And soup

But that kiss did more than turn her into a puddle of lust. It terrified her. Not because of how soul-searingly good it was, but because kisses like that don’t just happen. Kisses like that implied history and connection and bone-deep knowledge, and it made her question everything that had existed between them before.

But that kiss tonight had been amazing, an essentially perfect kiss, and a perfect kiss can make you feel like the rest of life is about to fall effortlessly into place.

Distant voices reached him; inwardly, he sighed, and reluctantly brought the kiss to an end. He raised his head. Patience's eyes slowly opened, then she blinked, and stared straight at him. For one instant, the look on her face, in her eyes, had him puzzled- then he recognized it. Curious- she wasn't shocked, stunned, or thrown into a maidenly fluster. She was curious. Vane couldn't stop his rakish grin. Nor could he resist the temptation to brush his lips over hers one last time. "What are you doing?" Patience whispered as his head bent to hers. Even at close quarters, she could still see his smile. "It's called 'kiss and make up.'" The curve of his lips deepened. "It's what lovers do when they fall out." A vise locked Patience's heart; panic- it had to be that- streaked through her. "We aren't lovers." "Yet." His lips touched hers and she shivered. "We never will be." She might be giddy, but she was quite sure of that. He stilled, but his confident smile didn't waver. "Don't wager your fortune on it." Again, his lips brushed hers.

Does God know the number of kisses before we fall in love? Yesterday, I was nobody and I believed myself important. Today, I feel my worth in you. You, with your emerald eyes and ebony hair, even your heartbeat is beautiful. You, who is my greatest joy, all other concerns vanish in your presence. You swallow time and consume space, inspiring all my passion with a single embrace. I love your existence.

He doesn't make me feel like he kisses me. He makes me feel like he owns me.

He leans down, his dark eyes simmering, and kisses me until neither of us wants to come up for air. Only the ringing of the bell tears us apart. "Damn bell," he says softly. He places his hand along the scar that rides my face from temple to chin. A slash of purple, it's never going to disappear. But it doesn't bother me.

He let go of my arms and ran his hands down my sides. I clutched the sides of his head, kissing him hard and urging him closer. I trailed one hand down his back to his ass and pushed him against me. “You feel so good,” I said to him, and he kissed me again. This time softer and without any rush, like he could twist his tongue with mine forever.

He stepped into my space, locking eyes with me, then pressed his mouth to mine. His lips were soft and firm and I breathed in sharply, tasting him. He trembled for a moment, and then my ass hit the desk as he collided with me. His hand curled around the back of my neck while the other rubbed my thigh.

His billiards lessons regarding double kisses, push strokes, butt caps, creeping angles of incidence, and snatches began to sound like flirting.

I can't help but think," she started, then stopped. Knowing she shouldn't say it. Knowing, somehow, that it would make everything harder. "I can't help but think... if only I'd..." He knew it, too. "Don't." But she couldn't stop it. She looked up at him. "If only I'd found you first." The words were small and sad, and she hated them, even as they brought him to her- his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks and tilting her up to him. Even as they brought his lips to hers in a kiss that robbed her of strength and will and, eventually, thought. His long fingers threaded through her hair, holding her still as he lifted his lips, met her gaze, and whispered her name before taking her mouth again in long, lavish strokes. Again and again, he did the same, whispering her name against her lips, her cheek, the heavy pulse at the side of her neck, punctuating the word with licks and nips and sucks that set her aflame.

I'd also learned something new. There was something really sexy about a man that kissed you, without stopping to ask first.

I discuss my beliefs less because I bed my atheist, who cannot believe in much more sacred than our kisses.

If unhappy is the sweetheart who invokes kisses of which he does not know the flavour, a thousand times more unhappy is who this flavour tasted once and then was denied

I’m here because of a letter. Not the kind with hearts and lipstick marks, but the kind that takes your breath away. I wanted it to have that effect on him, and so it was the story of how we fell in love told through our kisses. Both kisses we’d had and kisses I wanted to have, and places I wanted to kiss. Places like Paris and Amsterdam, along the river or by the canal, or Kauai under waterfalls. It was an epic love letter, and it was all I’d ever wanted in my life-to feel that kind of epic love.

I miss more loving someone so deeply that I can't imagine a forever without her kisses.

...in January, everything seems desolate. The Moon ascends to cold heights - and I, a ragged sky filled with dark kisses...lie abandoned by you...

Oh, thought Blue. So this is what I can't have.

I rush over to him and practically knock him down as I kiss him hard. He stumbles back, but his hands go to my waist, and his mouth takes everything I give. I try to express everything I feel for him, everything I want to say, because I’m not sure if I can admit it aloud yet. I love him. This is true, but the thought of saying it out loud makes the walls close in—just like they’ve always done. Only difference is, this time, when I remind myself that it’s Damon, all that doubt, the claustrophobia, the itchy feeling of wanting to escape disappears completely. If I focus on the Damon part and not words like love and forever, I don’t freak out. I want it. Everything.

I said he kissed me. Really kissed me. It rocked me to my soul. It was brutal. It was brilliant. It was horrible. I thought I was going to die.

It's the truth." Her voice was barely more than breath. "I believe you." He was gently kissing his way along her jaw. "You came all this way to bring me a photo." "Yes." She said. "Well, I can..this morning..here bring it." He raised his head, "What?" She glared at him, "I can't talk when you're doing that." He grinned, dimples appearing. "Sorry. Say it again.

I’ve become your heartbeat making you mine Upon every kiss of passion our souls shine

Mati took in my expression, and a moment later I was in his arms. His kisses washed over me like floodwater over parched earth. I clutched him helplessly, tears falling down my face and mingling with his as he whispered my name.

My lips and eyes and heart were stinging when you kissed me in the dark. — Jack Garton to Jennifer Hammer, 2008 (age 24)

My mouth hung slightly open, i was getting ready to sat something important. what i wanted to say was: I's so, so sorry. but instead I said, "i love you." Only then, when i said it out loud, did i know that it was true. Carly threaded her fingers through mine and i squeezed her hand. She said it back to me, and i was relieved in a way that i wasn't expecting. i didn't know that i needed her to say it until she did. i was so grateful; i leaned down and kissed her fearlessly, which was unlike me. When she kissed me back, i brought my hand up and cupped the nape of her neck, pulling her hair with clumsy fingers. i tried to back off, to apologize for hurting her, but she kept me close, kissing me softly at first, then hard and fast until the lines between us blurred.

Noah propped himself up on his elbow, his wicked grin in place. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to see you on this bed?” “Nope.” The hem of my sweater rode up from our fall, exposing my belly button. Noah traced circles onto the skin of my stomach, down to the material of my low-rise jeans. His touch sent a combination of tickles and chills through my body. My heart sped up and I struggled to keep my breathing normal. Every Noah rumor had been right. His kisses curled my toes and now his simple touch rocked my body. Fear mingled with the pleasure in my bloodstream.

Not all kisses heal an open wound.

Not that kind of cheating," Mags said. "More like...skipping ahead. If you like someone, you should have to make an effort. You should have to get to know the person--you should have to work for that first kiss.

Oh how I had underestimated tender kisses.

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

Only with kisses and red poppies can I love you, with rain-soaked wreaths, contemplating ashen horses and yellow dogs. Only with waves at my back can I love you, between dull explosions of brimstone and reflective waters, swimming against cemeteries that circulate in certain rivers, drowned pasture flooding the sad, chalky tombstones, swimming across submerged hearts and faded lists of unburied children.

Pardon me for not being willing to commit my entire future to you based on two kisses and a blueberry muffin.

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

People are like water: Many rush pass you, as some will over-flood. Some will drown you, or force you to go their current ways. Some will be cold or hot-tempered, but try to say with the warm ones. Some will come as a raging wave and cause a ripple, or a calm sea, supporting you, quenching your thirst, and flow by your side to where kisses will always stay wet.

Peter lifted his head. Hook's hair was tangled around his face like a lion's mane and his eyes were painfully clear, all teasing and mirth gone from his mouth. He took Peter's chin in his hand, his fingers calloused but gentle, and kissed him. Everything in the world grew quiet and Peter's body grew loud. The caress of Hook's fingertips under his chin made his pulse catch, his throat flushing, shoulders tightening. He could only seem to breathe in, breathe Hook in deeper. Hook's lips were dry, and he tasted like salt and sweet wine. He smelled like gunpowder and the sea and he was everywhere, shifting closer across the leaves, his other arm snaking around Peter's waist, the iron claw pressed flat between his shoulder blades. Peter dug his fingers into fistfuls of earth, trying to ground himself as Hook pulled them together, tipping Peter's head back with the gentle thrust of his kiss, a momentum that threatened to tilt them both to the ground. Peter was impossibly hot, hot to his fingertips and toes and his skin was crawling with the need to be touched, the shock of that need. Sweat caught at the back of his shirt. His skin was stark canvas begging for ink, and Hook's touch was going to stain him forever. It was too much, too sudden. Peter recoiled, yanking a knife from his boot and holding it between them. He didn't mean it as a threat, just a way to make distance where none had been.

Pulling back, he gave her a little space and grinned as she found her balance again. “Do you think that will ever get old?” Harper asked with an embarrassed blush. “Christ, I hope not. Just remember how you feel right now because you might be really mad at me in about one minute.” “Uh-oh. I don’t think I like the sound of that.” Harper raised an eyebrow at him. He took her hand and led her toward the studio before pulling her in front of him, her back to his chest. It was the safest position to avoid a kick in the nuts and the best position to block a fast escape. He felt Harper’s quick intake of breath as she turned to face him with a hand over her mouth. “What did you do?” she said through her fingers. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” He pushed her through the door as everyone inside shouted, “Surprise!

Rini moved in to kiss him, but on his cheek. She gave him two pecks on his right cheek and one more on his left, which caused him to blush. “Three kisses, huh?” She beamed at him and nodded when she explained, “Fo’ Faith, Hope, an’ Charity.

Rohan was a young half-gypsy with dark hair and bright hazel eyes. They had only met once, when Rohan had stolen a kiss from her. Three kisses, if one wished to be factual, and it had been by far the most erotic experiences of her entire life. Also the only erotic experience of her entire life. Rohan had kissed her as if she were a grown woman instead of someone's younger sister, with a coaxing sensuality that had hinted of all the forbidden things kisses led to. Daisy should have slapped his face. Instead she had dreamed about those kisses at least a hundred thousand times.

She didn't get any further because he didn't just stand there letting her aim missiles at him. He easily dodged the first one, and the second went over his head as he dived at her, pushing her back down onto the couch with himself landing on top of her. After she got her breath back from the impact, she shrieked, "Get off of me, you clumsy clod!" "My dear girl, there was nothing clumsy involved in the position you now find yourself. It was quite intentional, I do assure you." "Get off of me anyway!" "So you can resume your spat of violence? No, no. Violence is not going to be part of our relationship. I could've sworn I already mentioned that." "And what do you call squashing me like this?" "Prudence, actually." And then he paused, his eyes getting greener by the second as he stared down at her. "On the other hand, I'd also call it quite nice." Her eyes narrowed. "If you're thinking about kissing me, I wouldn't advise it," she warned. "No?" "No." He sighed. "Ah, well." But then a half grin formed as he added, "I don't always take good advice." -Kelsey & Derek