Best 14 quotes in «suggestive quotes» category

A gentleman shouldn't give personal items to a lady he's courting." He lowered his voice, mindful of being overheard by Poppy and the housekeeper, who were talking by the threshold of the Rutledge apartments. "But I can't take it back- no other woman could do it justice. And Marks, you have no idea of the self-restraint I exercised, I wanted to buy you a pair of embroidered stockings with little flowers running that run all the way up the insides of your-" "My lord," Catherine whispered, a light blush covering her face. "You forget yourself." "I haven't forgotten a thing, actually. Not one detail of your beautiful body. Soon I may start sketching you naked again. Every time I put a pencil to paper, the temptation nearly overwhelms me." She tried to look severe. "You promised not to do that again." "But my pencil has a will of its own," he said gravely.

I'm sorry, I'm afraid I have no time to be a wet-nurse for a bantling.' To my surprise, he did not flush or draw away in embarrassment. He grinned and winked at me, as if to say I could suckle him any time, and to my horror I felt myself grow red.

And as for his being a cold fish, I can assure you most definitely that he is not. Furthermore-" "Sophia," Sir Ross interrupted softly, "you don't have to defend me, my love." "Well, you're not," she insisted. His hand turned palm up to grip hers, and for just a moment the pair stared at their interlaced fingers with a shared pleasure that seemed unspeakably intimate. Lottie felt a peculiar ache in her chest. What must it be like to love that way? The two of them seemed to take such enormous delight in each other.

Cicadas," Poppy said. "This is the only place you'll see them in England. They're usually found only in the tropics. Only a male cicada makes that noise- it's said to be a mating song." "How do you know he's not commenting on the weather?" Sending him a provocative sideways glance, Poppy murmured, "Well, mating is rather a male preoccupation, isn't it?" Harry smiled. "If there's a more interesting subject," he said, "I have yet to discover it.

Claire tipped her head back, and this time he found her lips. It was, she thought, supposed to be a fast and sweet little kiss, but somehow it slowed down, got warmer and deeper. His lips were damp and soft as silk, and that was such a contrast to the hard lines of his body pressed against her. The strength of his hands sliding around her waist and pulling her even closer. She heard him growl low in his throat, a wild and hungry sound that made her go weak and faint. He broke the kiss and leaned against her, breathing hard. "Good morning to you too. Man, I just can't stay mad when you do that." "Do what?" she asked innocently. She didn't feel innocent. She also didn't feel sixteen-nearly-seventeen, not at all. Shane always made her feel older. Much older. Ready for anything. It was a good thing Shane wasn't as dumb as her hormones seemed to be. "Unless you want to stay home and cut class, we don't really have time to talk about it," he said, and waggled his eyebrows. "So. Wanna cut class and make out?

I don't require any more sleep than you do, sir. If you stay up late, I am capable of doing the same. I also have work to do." His brows lowered in a forbidding scowl. "Go to bed, Miss Sydney." Sophia did not flinch. "Not until you do." "My bedtime has nothing to do with yours," he said curtly, "unless you are suggesting that we go to bed together." Clearly, the remark was meant to intimidate her into silence. A reckless reply came to mind, one so bold that she bit her tongue to keep from speaking. And then she thought, Why not? It was time to declare her sexual interest in him... time to advance her plan of seduction one more step. "All right," she said quickly. "If that is what it takes to make you get the rest you require- so be it." His dark face went blank. The lengthy silence that ensued was evidence of how greatly she had surprised him. My God, she thought in a flutter of panic. Now I've done it. She could not predict how Sir Ross would respond. Being a gentleman- a notoriously celibate one- he might refuse her proposition. However, there was something in his expression- a flicker in his gray eyes- that made her wonder if he might not accept the impulsive invitation. And if he did, she would have to carry it out and sleep with him. The thought jarred her very soul. This was what she had planned, what she had wanted to achieve, but she was suddenly terrified. Terrified by the realization of how much she wanted him. Slowly Sir Ross approached, following as she backed away one step, then another, until her spine was flattened against the door. His alert gaze did not move from her flushed face as he braced his hands on the door, placing them on either side of her head. "My bedroom or yours?" he asked softly. Perhaps he expected her to back down, stammer, run away. Her hands curled into balls of tension. "Which would you prefer?" she parried. His head tilted as he studied her, his eyes oddly caressing. "My bed is bigger.

Oh girl....Sex IS the answer!!! However... It depends on the question...

Stop.” She covered her breast with her own hand. “That’s no’ a healer’s touch.” His smile was sin incarnate. “Ye’ve the right of it there, lass. That’s a lover’s touch. And ye’ve had only the smallest bit of the pleasure, only a taste of what I would give ye an’ ye allow it.” “No,” She scrambled to her feet to put some distance between them. “An’ ye try to take me, I’ll scratch yer eyes out, Rob MacLaren.” “I’d not take ye. Not a step further than ye wish. I ken ye’re a virgin and wanting to stay that way,” he said earnestly. “But there’s great delight for a man in the giving of pleasure, ye see. And ways around a maidenhead that’ll leave ye still pure when we’re done.” She’d forgotten to breathe as he spoke. Now she sucked in a quick breath. “Shall I pleasure ye, Elspeth?

I never arrive unannounced without something big and juicy in hand. - Simon Hunt

Phrases and images from the game filtered through his head... hitting the sweet spot, working the rosin bag, over the bat, going deep, in the hole, double header, baseball was a filthy, dirty sport!

Put your mouth on mine, Little Raven. I’m ready for a taste of lemon cake,” he said in a deep and tumbling voice. “Maybe I’m not so sweet,” I whispered, wetting my lower lip with a sweep of my tongue. Logan’s eyes followed every movement, and he licked his lips in response. “I want your mouth… on my mouth. Do it, or else I’ll have to find something else to kiss.

Ross's thick lashes veiled his smoky eyes. She sensed his rampant desire to be alone with her. "Three hours," he said, speaking as if to himself. "What?" she asked. "Three hours until midnight. Then you will go upstairs, and I will follow soon after." "Oh. Isn't that rather too early to retire from a ball such as this? I suspect some of the couples will be dancing until dawn." "We won't be one of them," he said firmly, escorting her to the drawing room. "I can think of a much better way to spend the rest of the evening." "Sleeping?" she said with false innocence. Ross bent to whisper his alternative, and grinned as a wild blush rose in her face.

Sara was annoyed that the two were conducting the transaction as if she weren't there at all. "Four day gowns," she interrupted, "and two for evening. Six in all. And perhaps a cambric nightgown-" "Twenty-five," Derek told the dressmaker. "Don't forget gloves, slippers, unmentionables, and everything she'll need to go with the order." Gently he covered Sara's mouth with his hand as she sputtered in protest. His sly green eyes met the dressmaker's over her head, and he winked as he added, "Nightgowns aren't necessary." Monique chuckled and glanced at Sara's reddening face. "I think perhaps, madam, your husband is part French!

You’re terrible at this whole ‘tell me whatever I want to know’ thing.” My hand goes to the crossbow, but I don’t pick it up. He sighs. “Just ask me something. Ask about my tail. Don’t you want to see it?” He raises his brows.