Karen > Karen's Quotes

“« You kissed first,” he said.
“On the cheek!”
“On the cheek, on the lips. All the same to me. Female, kiss. Male, excited. Do I have to explain simple facts of life to you? »”
― Loretta Chase, A Duke in Shining Armor

“...he said...Do you understand?"
"Yes," she said, heart pounding. "Thank you for explaining it in simple terms, in case my girl brain was too small to grasp the implications.”
― Loretta Chase, A Duke in Shining Armor

“Truly? That whole determined, dangerous saunter across the room was for me? In that case, would you mind going back and doing it all over again? Slowly this time, and with feeling.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“Don’t you do that.” She turned away from the mirror, toward him. “Don’t you dare make a joke. It took a great deal of courage to say what I did. And you don’t have to speak a word in return, but I will insist you be man enough to take it. I won’t have you making light of my feelings, or making light of yourself—as if you’re not worthy of them. Because you are worthy, Colin. You’re a generous, good-hearted person, and you deserve to be loved. Deeply, truly, well, and often.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“This is ideal, you’ll see. We do everything backward. It’s just how we are. We began with an elopement. After that, we made love. Next, we’ll progress to courting. When we’re old and silver-haired, perhaps we’ll finally get around to flirtation. We’ll make fond eyes at each other over our mugs of gruel. We’ll be the envy of couples half our age.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“He lay on the bed, freshly shaven and washed, legs crossed at the ankles and arms propped behind his head. His posture said, Yes, ladies. I truly am this handsome. And I don't even have to try.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“Certainty becomes you.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“A hint of sensual frustration roughened his voice.
“And I will curse the gods along with them, Min. Some wild monsoon raged through me as I looked at you just now. It’s left me rearranged inside, and I don’t have a map.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“He had to feel those lips on him again. Had. To. This wasn’t a mild expression of preference. This was an imperative. His body was insistent. To continue his
existence on this earth, he now needed the following: food, water, shelter, clothing, and Minerva Highwood’s lips.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“A man might engage in flirtation with distinterest, even disdain. But he never teases without affection.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“I will insist you be man enough to take it. I won’t have you making light of my feelings, or making light of yourself—as if you’re not worthy of them. Because you are worthy, Colin. You’re a generous, good-hearted person, and you deserve to be loved. Deeply, truly, well, and often.”

He looked utterly bewildered. Well, what did he expect, after the power he’d given her? He couldn’t compare a woman to a torrentially beautiful monsoon, and then look surprised that he’d gotten wet. “You reckless man.” She laid a touch to his cheek. “You really should be more careful with those compliments.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“Is it truly so unfathomable, that an imperfect girl might be perfectly loved?”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“I slept well last night. But when I woke this morning, I missed you so intensely. I don't even know how to describe the sensation. I looked at the other pillow, and it just seemed wrong that you weren't there. As though I'd woken up missing my own arm or half of my heart. I felt incomplete. So I rose, and dressed, and I just started walking toward you--because I couldn't move in any other direction.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“I’d be more than happy to let you survey my physical perfection in its entirety. But only if I get to see you, too.” To her shocked silence, he replied, “It’s only fair. Tit for tat.”

“How is that fair? You've seen countless tits.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“Words for everyday showers of prettiness, and the kind of misty loveliness that disappears whenever you try to grasp it. Beauty that’s heralded by impressive thunder, but turns out to be all flash. And beyond all these, there’d be this word . . . a word that even the most grizzled, wizened elders might have uttered twice in their lifetimes, and in hushed, fearful tones at that. A word for a sudden, cataclysmic torrent of beauty with the power to change landscapes. Make plains out of valleys and alter the course of rivers and leave people clinging to trees, alive and resentful, shaking their fists at the heavens.” A hint of sensual frustration roughened his voice. “And I will curse the gods along with them, Min. Some wild monsoon raged through me as I looked at you just now. It’s left me rearranged inside, and I don’t have a map.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“...What I recall is this: this native people he lived with, deep in the jungle - their language had dozens of words for rain. Because it was so common to them, you see. Where they lived, it rained almost constantly. Several times a day. So they had words for light rain, and heavy rain, and pounding rain. Something like eighteen different terms for storms, and a whole classification system for mist."

"Why are you telling me this?"

His touch skimmed lightly down her arm. "Because I'm standing here, wanting to give you fitting compliment, but my paltry vocabulary fails me. I think what I need is a scientific excursion. I need to venture deep into some jungle where beauty takes the place of rain. Where loveliness itself falls from the sky at regular intervals. Dots every surface, saturates the ground, hangs like vapor in the air. Because the way you look right now..." His gaze cought hers in the reflection. "They'd have a word for it there.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“Love me. Don’t ever stop. You hear me? It won’t be this good with anyone else. Only me, Min. Only me.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“Maybe ‘beautiful’ isn’t the proper word. It’s too common, and the way you look is . . . rare. You deserve a rare compliment. One sincerely meant, and crafted just for you. So there will be no doubt.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“Would you like to hear a very bald, very earthy, completely scientific truth?” He struggled up on his elbow, reaching one hand toward her face. He cupped her cheek in his hand, traced her parted lips with his thumb. “You,” he whispered hoarsely, “have the most goddamned erotic mouth I’ve ever seen. These sweet, plump lips drive me wild. It’s impossible to look at you and not . . . not wonder, how it would be.”

Her eyes went wide. “You’ve wondered.”

He nodded. “Oh yes.”

“Y-you’ve actually spent time—”

“Hours, probably, if you added it up.”

“Thinking about—”

“This.” He slid his thumb between her startled lips, pressing it deep into her hot, wet mouth. “Yes.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“You have a mouth made for kissing," he murmured, angling her to face him. "Did you know that?"
She shook her head.
"So soft and generous." Leaning in, he tipped her chin with the heel of his hand. "Sweet."
"No man's ever called me sweet."
"Has any other man kissed you?"
Again, she gave a little shake of the head.
"Well, then. That's why." He brushed his lips over hers, just lightly, sending pure sensation frizzing through her veins. He hummed with satisfaction. "You taste of ripe plums."
She couldn't help it. She laughed. "Now that's just absurd."
"Why?"
"Because it's too early in the year for ripe plums."
His husky chuckle shook them both. "You're entirely too logical for your own good. A thorough kissing can mend that."
"I don't want mending."
"Perhaps not. But I think you do want kissing." He nuzzled the curve of her cheek, and his voice dropped to a sensual whisper. "Don't you?"
She did. Oh, she did.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“As he poured a glass for himself, she couldn't help but stare at his leanly muscled torso, so helpfully limned by firelight. She'd been used to thinking him a devil, but he had the body of a god. A lesser one. His wasn't the physique of a hulking, over-muscled Zeus or Poseidon, but rather a lean, athletic Apollo or Mercury. A body built not to bludgeon, but to hunt. Not to lumber, but to race. Not to overpower unsuspecting naiads where they bathed, but to...
Seduce.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“He said simply, “Because I choose her.” “Truly?” Oh God. Truly? As in, had Minerva truly just said that aloud? At least she’d stopped herself from voicing the rest of the thoughts running through her addled brain, which went something like, Truly? That whole determined, dangerous saunter across the room was for me? In that case, would you mind going back and doing it all over again? Slowly this time, and with feeling.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to Be Wicked

“Why would you do that with me? A simple kiss was enough. What could you be thinking?"
"What indeed." He pushed a hand through his hair, more than a little offended at her accusatory tone. "I'm male. You rubbed your... femaleness all over me. I didn't think. I reacted."
"You reacted."
"Yes."
"To..." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "To me."
"It is a natural response. Aren't you a scientist? Then you should understand. Any red-blooded man would react to such stimulus."
She stepped back. She dipped her chin and peered at him over her spectacles. "So you find me stimulating."
"That's not what I-" He bit off the rest of that sentence. The only way to end a nonsensical conversation was to simply cease talking.
Colin drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He closed his eyes briefly. And then he opened them and looked at her. Really looked at her, as though for the first time. He saw thick, dark hair a man could gather by the fistful. Prim spectacles, perched on a gently sloped nose. Behind the lenses, wide-set eyes- dark and intelligent. And that mouth. That ripe, pouting, sensual mouth.
He let his gaze drift down her form. There was a wicked thrill to knowing lushness smoldered beneath that modest sprigged muslin gown. To having felt her shape, scouting and chartering her body with all the nerve endings of his own.
Their bodies had met. More than that. They'd grown acquainted.
Nothing more would come from it, of course. Colin had rules for himself, and as for her... she didn't even liked him, or pretend to. But she showed up in the middle of the night, hatching schemes that skirted the line between academic logic and reckless adventure. She started kisses she had no notion how to continue.
Taken all together, she was simply...
A surprise. A fresh, bracing gust of the unexpected, for good or ill.
"Perhaps," he said cautiously, "I do find you stimulating.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“Drat. I'm not sure anyone even noticed the kiss."
"I noticed it." He rubbed his mouth with the side of his hand. The taste of ripe plums still lingered on his lips. He found himself unaccountably thirsty.”
― Tessa Dare, A Week to be Wicked

“I do hope we shall meet again. Perhaps we could have a reading club of some sorts. I 've read that one." She leaned in. "Have you reached the part where Mr. Darcy proposes?"
Asriel narrowed his gaze on Cross. "She did that on purpose."
Pippa shook her head. "Oh, I did not ruin it. Elizabeth refuses." She paused. "I suppose I did ruin that. Apologies.”
― Sarah MacLean, One Good Earl Deserves a Lover

“My whole life . . . two and two has made four.”...
“But now . . . it’s all gone wrong.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t make four anymore. It makes you.”
― Sarah MacLean, One Good Earl Deserves a Lover

“She pushed and elbowed and knocked and strained to catch him, and finally, she did, reaching out for his hand--adoring the fact that neither of them wore gloves, loving the way their skin came together, the way his brought wonderful heat in a lush, irresistible current.
He felt it too.
She knew it because he stopped the instant they touched, turning to face her, grey eyes wild as Devonshire rain. She knew it because he whispered her name, aching and beautiful and soft enough for only her to hear.
And she it because his free hand rose, captured her jaw and titled her face up to him even as he leaned down and stole her lips and breath and thought in a kiss that she would never in her lifetime forget.
The was like food and drink, like sleep, like breath. She needed it with the same elemental desire and she cared not a bit that all of London was watching. Yes, she was masked, but it did not matter. She would have stripped to her chemise for this kiss. To her skin.
Their fingers still intertwined, he wrapped their arms behind her back and pulled her to him, claiming her mouth with lips and tongue and teeth, marking her with one long luscious kiss that went on and on until she thought she might die from the pleasure of it. Her free hand was in his hair then, tangling in the soft locks, loving their silky promise.
She was lost, claimed and fairly consumed by the intensity of the kiss, and for the first time in her life, Pippa gave herself up to emotion, pouring every bit of her desire and her passion and her fear and her need into this moment This caress.
This man.
This man, who was everything she had never allowed herself to dream she would find.
This man, who made her believe in friendship. In partnership..
In love”
― Sarah MacLean, One Good Earl Deserves a Lover

“I'm talking about your lovely long arms and your perfectly shaped legs... I find I am quite jealous of those stockings for knowing the feel of you, the warmth of you." She shifted, unable to keep still beneath the onslaught of his words. "I'm talking about that corset that hugs you where you are lovely and soft... is it uncomfortable?"
She hesitated. "Not usually."
"And now?" She heard the knowledge in the question.
She nodded once. "It's rather- constricting."
He tutted once, and she opened her eyes, instantly meeting his, hot and focused on her. "Poor Pippa. Tell me, with your knowledge of the human body, why do you think that is?"
She swallowed, tried for a deep breath. Failed. "It's because my heart is threatening to beat out of my chest."
The smile again. "Have you overexerted yourself?"
She shook her head. "No."
"What, then?"
She was not a fool. He was pushing her. Attempting to see how far she would go. She told the truth. "I think it is you."
He closed his eyes then, hands fisting again, and pressed his head back against the side of the desk, exposing the long column of his neck and his tightly clenched jaw. Her mouth went dry at the movement, at the way the tendons there bunched and rippled, and she was quite desperate to touch him.
When he returned his gaze to hers, there was something wild in those pewter depths... something she was at once consumed and terrified by. "You shouldn't be so quick with the truth," he said.
"Why?"
"It gives me too much control."
"I trust you."
"You shouldn't." He leaned forward, bracing his arm against his raised knee. "You are not safe with me."
She had never once felt unsafe with him. "I don't think that's correct."
He laughed, low and dark, and the sound rippled through her, a wave of pleasure and temptation. "You have no idea what I could do to you, Philippa Marbury. The ways I could touch you. The wonders I could show you. I could ruin you without thought, sink with you into the depths of sin and not once regret it. I could lead you right into temptation and never ever look back."
The words stole her breath. She wanted it. Every bit of it.”
― Sarah MacLean, One Good Earl Deserves a Lover

“When she opened her eyes, she returned her attention to the candle, still and unmoving even as it burned unbearably bright. And then it did move, dancing and flickering in an unexpected draft.
A draft followed by a great woof and a thud as Trotula left the bed, tail wagging madly, and threw herself at the doors that led out to the narrow balcony just off Pippa's bedchamber. Doors once closed, now open, now framing the man Pippa loved, frozen just inside the room, tall and serious and beautifully disheveled.
As she watched, he took a deep breath and ran both hands through thick red hair, pushing it off his face, his high cheekbones and long straight nose stark and angled in the candlelight.
He was unbearably handsome. She'd never in her life longed for anything the way she longed for him. He'd promised to teach her about temptation and desire and he'd done powerfully well; her heart raced at the sight of him, at the sound of his heavy breath. And yet... she did not know what came next.
"You are beautiful," he said.
What came next was anything he wished.”
― Sarah MacLean, One Good Earl Deserves a Lover

“If you even dream of reneging on our wager, I will send God, Bourne, and your father to keep you in check. In that order."
"I should not be surprised that you believe you have some control over the Almighty," she retorted.
He looked like he might like to murder someone.”
― Sarah MacLean, One Good Earl Deserves a Lover