Kellyelin > Kellyelin's Quotes

“Annabelle’s eyes stung as she stared at him, while need and inexhaustible tenderness gathered like an ache in her body. “I realized something,” she said huskily, “when I was standing outside the foundry, watching it burn and knowing you were inside.” She swallowed hard against the thickness in her throat. “I would rather have died in your arms, Simon, than face a lifetime without you. All those endless years… all those winters, summers… a hundred seasons of wanting you and never having you. Growing old, while you stayed eternally young in my memories.” She bit her lip and shook her head, while her eyes flooded. “I was wrong when I told you that I didn’t know where I belonged. I do. With you, Simon. Nothing matters except being with you. You’re stuck with me forever, and I’ll never listen when you tell me to go.” She managed a tremulous smile. “So you may as well stop complaining and resign yourself to it.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Secrets of a Summer Night

“I spent most of my youth hauling sides of beef and pork to my father's shop. Carrying you is far more enjoyable."

"How sweet," Annabelle mumbled sickly, her eyes closed. "Every woman dreams of being told that she's preferable to a dead cow.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Secrets of a Summer Night

“I love you dammit,"she brushed her lips teasingly against his.

"How much?" He made a slight sound, as if the soft kiss had affected him intensely.

"Without limit. Beyond forever.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Secrets of a Summer Night

“Annabelle stared straight ahead at the canvas, neither seeing nor caring about the fluctuations of light and color that conveyed impressions of approaching nightfall…the dusk of the Roman Empire. Hunt seemed similarly indifferent to the show, his head inclined toward hers, his gaze locked on her face. Though his breathing remained soft and disciplined, it seemed to her that its rhythm had changed ever so slightly.

Annabelle moistened her dry lips. “You…you mustn’t stare at me like that.”

Soft as the murmur was, he caught it. “With you here, nothing else is worth looking at.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Secrets of a Summer Night

“Don’t try to talk—just breathe. Another long, slow one…another. Good girl.” As Annabelle gradually recovered her breath, the panic began to fade. He was right…it was easier if she didn’t struggle. The sound of her fitful gasping was underlaid by the mesmerizing softness of his voice. “That’s right,” he murmured. “That’s the way of it.” His hand continued to move in a slow, easy rotation over her chest. There was nothing sexual in his touch—in fact, she might have been a child he was trying to soothe. Annabelle was amazed. Who would have ever dreamed that Simon Hunt could be so kind? Filled with equal parts of confusion and gratitude, Annabelle fumbled for the large hand that moved so gently on her chest. She was so feeble that the gesture required all her strength. Assuming that she was trying to push him away, Hunt began to withdraw, but as he felt her fingers curl around two of his, he went very still. “Thank you,” she whispered. The touch made Hunt tense visibly, as if the contact had sent a shock through his body. He stared not at her face but at the delicate fingers entwined with his, in the manner of a man who was trying to solve a complex puzzle. Remaining motionless, he prolonged the moment, his lashes lowering to conceal his expression.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Secrets of a Summer Night

“That is the queen—the most powerful piece on the board. She can move in any direction, and go as far as she wishes.” There was nothing overtly suggestive in his manner of speaking …but when he spoke softly, as he was doing at that moment, there was a husky depth in his voice that made her toes curl inside her slippers. “More powerful than the king?” she asked.

“Yes. The king can only move one square at a time. But the king is the most important piece.”

“Why is he more important than the queen if he’s not the most powerful?”

“Because once he is captured, the game is over.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Secrets of a Summer Night

“Holding himself deep inside her, he groaned, while a shiver ran across his shoulders. “You’re so tight,” he said hoarsely.

“I-I’m sorry—”

“No, no,” he managed. “Don’t be sorry. My God.” His voice was slurred, as if he was drunk on pleasure.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Secrets of a Summer Night

“Suddenly the theater was plunged into utter blinding darkness, while an ominous rumbling rose from beneath the platform. There were several little screams of alarm, a scattering of laughter, and loud gasps of anticipation. Annabelle’s spine went rigid as she felt the brush of a hand on her back. His hand, sliding with slow deliberateness up her spine…his scent, fresh and beguiling in her nostrils …and before she could make a sound, his mouth, possessing hers in a warm, softly ravishing kiss.

She was too stunned to move, her hands in the air like butterflies suspended in midflight, her swaying body anchored by his light clasp on her waist, while his other hand cradled the back of her neck. Annabelle had been kissed before, by brash young men who had stolen a quick embrace during a walk in the garden, or in a corner of the parlor when they would not be observed. But none of those brief, flirtatious encounters had been like this …a kiss so slow and dizzying that it filled her with delirium.

Sensations rushed through her, far too strong to manage, and she quivered helplessly in his hold. Compelled by instinct, she lifted blindly into the tenderly restless caress of his lips. The pressure of his lips increased as he demanded more, rewarding her helpless response with a voluptuous exploration that set her senses on fire. Just as she began to lose all sanity, his mouth released hers with startling suddenness, leaving her dazed. Keeping his supportive hand on the downy-soft nape of her neck, he bent his head until a rueful murmur tickled her ear.

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” His touch withdrew completely, and when red-filtered light finally invaded the theater, he was gone.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Secrets of a Summer Night

“Every time I see you,” he murmured, “I think you couldn’t possibly become any more beautiful—and you always prove me wrong.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Secrets of a Summer Night

“You look like a butterfly that’s just flown in from the garden,” Hunt said softly.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Secrets of a Summer Night

“His heart beat faster and faster as Daisy’s white face came up to his own. He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips’ touch she blossomed like a flower and the incarnation was complete.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

“Finnick!" Something between a shriek and a cry of joy. A lovely if somewhat bedraggled young woman--dark tangled hair, sea green eyes--runs toward us in nothing but a sheet. "Finnick!" And suddenly, it's as if there's no one in the world but these two, crashing through space to reach each other. They collide, enfold, lose their balance, and slam against a wall, where they stay. Clinging into one being. Indivisible.
A pang of jealousy hits me. Not for either Finnick or Annie but for their certainty. No one seeing them could doubt their love.”
― Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay

“Writers don't make any money at all. We make about a dollar. It is terrible. But then again we don't work either. We sit around in our underwear until noon then go downstairs and make coffee, fry some eggs, read the paper, read part of a book, smell the book, wonder if perhaps we ourselves should work on our book, smell the book again, throw the book across the room because we are quite jealous that any other person wrote a book, feel terribly guilty about throwing the schmuck's book across the room because we secretly wonder if God in heaven noticed our evil jealousy, or worse, our laziness. We then lie across the couch facedown and mumble to God to forgive us because we are secretly afraid He is going to dry up all our words because we envied another man's stupid words. And for this, as I said, we are paid a dollar. We are worth so much more.”
― Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality

“It's easy to get rid of people, Christophe. All you have to do is rely on them.”
― Lili St. Crow, Jealousy

“For a second I was almost jealous of the clouds. Why was he looking to them for an escape when I was right here beside him?”
― Kamila Shamsie, Kartography: A Lyrical Literary Romance of Fated Love and Secrets in Pakistan

“With his current mood, Elizabeth realized, she was going to have to make her own opening. Lifting her eyes to his enigmatic golden ones, she said quietly, “Ian, have you ever wanted something very badly-something that
was within your grasp-and yet you were afraid to reach out for it?”

Surprised by her grave question and her use of his name, Ian tried to ignore the jealousy that had been eating at him all night. “No,” he said, scrupulously keeping the curtness from his voice as he gazed down at her alluring face. “Why do you ask? Is there something you want?”

Her gaze fell from his, and she nodded at his frilled white shirtfront.

“What is it you want?”

“You.”
― Judith McNaught, Almost Heaven

“He nodded. "I think you're good for him, Meghan," he said, smiling in a small, sad way that was completely different from the Puck I knew. "I see the way he looks at you, something I haven't seen in him since the day we lost Ariella. And...I know you love him in a way that you can't love me." He looked away, just for a moment, and took a deep breath. "Jealousy isn't something that we deal with well," he admitted. "But some of us have been around long enough to know when to let go, and what is most important. The happiness of my two best friends should be more important than some ancient feud.”
― Julie Kagawa, The Iron Queen

“Plain women are always jealous of their husbands. Beautiful women never are. They are always so occupied with being jealous of other women's husbands.”
― Oscar Wilde

“I'm secure enough in myself to wear panties with bows on them. Besides, they are comfy and soft."
"I bet." He almost purred.
I gulped.”
― Ilona Andrews, Magic Burns

“Evan …” she murmured, wrapping her soft arms around his neck. Their position had her lips near his ear. She’d lost her headband somewhere. He could smell the strawberry of her shampoo, feel the tickle of her sluggish breath stirring his hair. “Evan.”

“Kelsey. Move over here, lie down.”

She pulled back slightly, her bleary eyes trying to focus on his. The weight of her head still seemed too much for her neck to support and her hair flowed over his arm. “Evan, I always liked you.”

“I always liked you, too, honey.” The way she kept saying his name in that intoxicated purr, savoring the v between her teeth and her bottom lip, was unnerving. Unnerving, hell. It had his dick twitching in his pants. “Come on, girl, you need to sleep it off.”

“I mean I like liked you.”

[…] Her hands caught his face, surprising him. He should have moved away from her long ago, before she could get her hands on him. As it was, he felt like a fly caught in the sticky gossamer of a spider’s den. “Always wanted to fuck you, y’know that? Even when I was a virgin.”

He drew in a breath, exhaled it shakily. So much for prudish.

Note to self: Kelsey now gets unbelievably horny when drunk.”
― Cherrie Lynn, Unleashed

“His head is busy moving between my parted thighs. He makes low purr-like sounds between my legs and is so surprisingly ravenous I can feel his teeth. His nails bit into my thighs as he devours me like he's the one deriving pleasure from the act, and I'm so turned on by the way he laps me up, that I come.”
― Katy Evans, Real

“[Daemon's] arms tightened, drew her closer as his hand stroked up and down her back, just for the simple pleasure of it. She sighed. The tension in her muscles eased a bit, and she rested against him more fully.

He wasn’t thinking of seduction when his hands began to wander over her—or when her hands hesitantly stroked him.

He wasn’t thinking of seduction when his body delighted in how different the silky skin of her neck felt under his mouth compared to the robe beneath his hands.

He wasn’t thinking of sex when he opened his robe and then hers so that only that film of spidersilk separated skin from skin. Or when even the spidersilk no longer separated them.

He wasn’t thinking of sex when his mouth settled over hers and he sent them both sliding into dark, hot desire. And by the time he found himself in bed, listening to her purr with pleasure while he moved inside her, he wasn’t able to think at all.”
― Anne Bishop, Queen of the Darkness

“Travis slammed into my back, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“You scared the shit outta me!” I complained.
He ran his hands over my skin. I noticed they felt different; slow and deliberate. I closed my eyes when he pulled me against him and buried his face in my hair, nuzzling my neck. Feeling his bare skin against mine, it took me a moment to protest.
“Travis…,”
He pulled my hair to one side and grazed his lips along my back from one shoulder to the other, unsnapping the clasp of my bra. He kissed the bare skin at the base of my neck and I closed my eyes, the warm softness of his mouth felt oo good to make him stop. A quiet moan escaped from his throat when he pressed his pelvis against mine, and I could feel how much he wanted me through his boxers. I held my breath, knowing the only thing keeping us from that big step I was so opposed to a few moments before was two thin pieces of fabric.
Travis turned me to face him, and then pressed against me, leaning my back against the wall. Our eyes met, and I could see the ache in his expression as he scanned the bare pieces of my skin. I had seen him peruse women before, but this was different. He didn’t want to conquer me; he wanted me to say yes.
He leaned in to kiss me, stopping just an inch away. I could feel the heat from his skin radiating against my lips, and I had to stop myself from drawing him in the rest of the way. His fingers were digging into my skin as he deliberated, and then his hands slid from my back to the hem of my panties. His index fingers slid down my hips, in between my skin and the lacey fabric, and in the same moment that he was about to slip the delicate threads down my legs, he hesitated. Just when I opened my mouth to say yes, he clenched his eyes shut.
“Not like this,” he whispered, brushing his lips across mine. “I want you, but not like this.”
― Jamie McGuire, Beautiful Disaster

“He spins around. Before I can say anything else, he steps forward and takes my face in his hands. Then he’s kissing me one last time, overwhelming me with his warmth, breathing life and love and aching sorrow into me. I throw my arms around his neck as he wraps his around my waist. My lips part for him and his mouth moves desperately against mine, devouring me, taking every breath that I have. Don’t go, I plead wordlessly. But I can taste the good-bye on his lips, and now I can no longer hold back my tears. He’s trembling. His face is wet. I hang on to him like he’ll disappear if I let go, like I’ll be left alone in this dark room, standing in the empty air. Day, the boy from the streets with nothing except the clothes on his back and the earnestness in his eyes, owns my heart.”
― Marie Lu, Prodigy

“I devour his mouth and claw my hands over his back, through his hair. I pull him toward me, needing to feel his every breath, his every heartbeat. Passion such as this lets me know I’m still alive. It reassures me that I still exert the ultimate control over Jeremy’s body.”
― Scarlett Edwards, Redemption

“And I want to devour her in some sick way, to press her into myself so the two of us aren’t individual people anymore, but one living, breathing entity, where the threat of separation can never trouble us again.”
― Callie Hart, Collateral

“She kisses like a sweet devouring, and I don't know where to touch her because I want all of her.”
― John Green, Will Grayson, Will Grayson

“John lifted his head and looked down at her. His eyes were worried and he was careful as he brushed at her hair. She smiled.
"Nah, I'm fine. I'm more than fine."
A sly grin bloomed as he mouthed, ain't that the truth.
"Hold up there, big man. You think you can make me blush like I'm some girl ? Pulling that sweet talk?"
As he nodded, she rolled her eyes.
"I'll have you know I'm not the kind of female who goes all dizzy, popping a stiletto off the floor just because some guy kisses her deep."
John was all male as he cocked a brow. And damn it if she didn't feel a tingle in her cheeks.
" Listen, John Matthew." She took his chin in her hand. "You're not turning me into one of these females who goes gaga over her lover. Not happening. I'm not hard-wired for that."
Her voice was stern and she meant every word, except the instant he rolled his hips and that huge arousal pushed into her, she purred.
She purred.
The sound was utterly foreign and she'd have sucked it back down her throat if she could have. Instead, she just left out another of those decidedly non-tough-guy moans. John bowed his head to her breast and started suckling on her as he somehow manage to keep thrusting in slow, even penetrations. Swept away, her hands found his hair again, spearing through the thick softness.
" Oh, John..."
And then he stopped dead, lifted his lips from her nipple, and smiled so wide it was a wonder he didn't bust off his front teeth. His expression was one of total and complete gotcha.
" You are a bastard, " she said on a laugh.
He nodded. And pressed into her with his full lenght again. It was perfect that he was giving her shit and showing her a little of who was boss. Just perfect. Somehow it made her respect him even more, but then, she'd always loved strength in all its forms. Even the teasing kind.
"I'm not surrendering , you know."
He pursed his lips and shook his head, all oh, no, of course not. And then he started to pull out of her. As she growled low in her throat, she sank her nails into his ass.
"Where do you think you're going ?”
― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

“You wanted me." His breaths come fast, his eyes wild. "Here I am." He fucks his cock into me ten times, fast and hard, making me yelp in delight of his claiming, and when my muscles seize up and my body prepares for another earth-shattering orgasm, he lets me come, keeping the frantic pace, and then growls and prolongs his own orgasm…”
― Katy Evans, Real

“I hung my fingertips on his waistband, tugging him closer.
Patch buried his face in the curve of my shoulder, his hands flexing over my back. He gave a low groan.
"I love you," he murmured into my hair. "I'm happier right now than I ever remember being.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Crescendo