Annette Curtis Klause Quotes

He doesn't have to say it, i feel it too; it's not subtle - like every bell for miles and miles is ringing at once, loud and clanging, hungry ones and tiny, happy, chiming ones, all of them sounding off in this moment. I put my hands around his neck, pull him to me, and then he's kissing me hard and so deep, and i am flying, sailing, soaring.

I want to see you again." He stopped, took her face in his hands. "I need to see you again." Her pulse jumped, as if it had nothing to do with the rest of her. "Roarke, what's going on here?" "Lieutenant." He leaned forward, touched his lips to hers. "indications are we're having a romance.

They haven't made love for years but sleep holding hands

I'm not fretting over control with you. You can have all of the command you desire as long as we're together. I'll just save my demands for the bedroom." I flushed. Bones just chuckled and brought my hand to his lips.

To win a woman in the first place you must please her, then undress her, and then somehow get her clothes back on her, finally, so that she will let you leave her, you've got to antagonise her.

I've always loved kissing. We all do, don't we?

I never analyze why I was with one woman instead of another.

In our minds, love and lust are really separated. It's hard to find someone that can be kind and you can trust enough to leave your kids with, and isn't afraid to throw her man up against the wall and lick him from head to toe.

I was very interested in the relationship between the man who speaks and the woman who listens. I was drawn to the idea that the relationship between a man and a woman can be something like a war itself, very cruel and violent.

We came around the corner, I kissed her and after I kissed her she relaxed. And then I grabbed her and kissed her again and she was shocked! And that was what we wanted.

As far as I'm concerned, love means fighting, big fat lies, and a couple of slaps across the face.

I do think that there is something about an intelligent, strong woman who also needs to be taken care of that will attract a certain kind of man sometimes. And that relationship is interesting on screen. Bad relationships are more interesting than good relationships to watch.

This thing called chemistry, which I can't define and wouldn't know how to, either works or it doesn't. Sometimes a love story can involve very talented actors, but we are not invested emotionally in whether they end up together.

I want to hold you, Nikki. Will you let me?

He [Ranger] peeled my [Stephanie] clothes off and wrangled me into bed. And then suddenly he was inside me. He once told me that time spent with him would ruin me for all other men. When he said it, I thought it was an outrageous threat. I no longer though it outrageous.

I looked at other couples and wondered how they could be so calm about it. They held hands as if they weren't even holding hands. When Steve and I held hands, I had to keep looking down to marvel at it. There was my hand, the same hand I've always had - oh, but look! What is it holding? It's holding Steve's hand! Who is Steve? My three-dimensional boyfriend. Each day I wondered what would happen next. What happens when you stop wanting, when you are happy. I supposed I would go on being happy forever. I knew I would not mess things up by growing bored. I had done that once before.

No, I like you alive and warm and wiggling.

I think I can speak on behalf of women and say that every woman wants a man who just loves them and lusts after them.

He gives my hand a tight squeeze, but that desperation, that urgency between us is gone. No insecurities. Max and Fang. Fang and Max. No longer a question. We just are.

Yeah, because when you’re attracted to someone, you actually enjoy kissing them and afterward, you don’t act like you kissed Adolf Hitler.

Sex deepens love and love deepens sex, so physical intimacy transforms everything and playing with it is playing with fire.

I could not make a move without making love.

If we're friends with someone and attracted to them, we're going to want to take it further.

She praised his book and he embraced her from gratitude rather than lust, but she didn't let go. Neither did he. She kissed his cheek, his earlobe. For months they'd run their fingers around the hem of their affection without once acknowledging the fabric. The circumference of the world tightened to what their arms encompassed. She sat on the desk, between the columns of read and unread manuscript, and pulled him toward her by his index fingers.

He flipped himself onto his side and kissed me. "You're so hot," I said, my hand still on his leg. "I'm starting to think you have an amputee fetish," he answered, still kissing me. I laughed. "I have an Augustus Waters fetish," I explained.