Hot Romantic Suspense Quotes

“Bianca swallowed past the biter chunks of broken heart clogging her throat. “I’m not going to kill him.”
From her listening post, Vivi shot her a wicked grin. “Would have been my first plan of action.”
“Whacking someone is always your first idea,” Lexie said, her laptop screen giving her green highlights an otherworldly glow.
“True.” Vivi shrugged her deceptively small shoulders, a snarky grin curling her blood-red lips. “That’s what makes me so damn charming.”
― Avery Flynn, Brazen

“He rose up over her, his arms straight on either side of her shoulders, and slowly withdrew, his flesh dragging against hers.
He was hot and hard.
She spread her thighs, reveling in this lush feeling, his thrusts blunt and hard now, pounding into her body.
And still he watched her, the green of his eyes slivers of want, demanding something of her. Something she was no longer willing to give, it was just too much.
When at last she came, her breaths hitching and halting, her legs trembling, her sex pulsing with every push of his cock, she watched him. She saw when he gritted his teeth, his lips drawn back in need and pleasure.
He shouted her name, loud in her quiet bedroom, as his big body jerked and plunged and emptied itself in her.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“Wakefield," she gasped, as her world began to tighten, as her hands fisted onto his jacket, her eyes grew wide open and looking at him.
They were still dark, still dangerous, so very full of passion, but she would have followed him, devil that he was, anywhere in that moment.
She was lost and he would show her the way.
"Pierson," he whispered back, his finger delving into her, sliding over her sex and sliding back inside her. Deeper. Harder.
She rocked against him, rode his touch, his strokes.
And when she said his name again, called it, gasped it, it was because he'd taken her over that edge, carried her into a world she couldn't have imagined.
"Pierson!" she cried out, her body quaking, falling, rising all at once. "Oh, Pierson, yes!"
For now she knew the way.”
― Elizabeth Boyle, The Viscount Who Lived Down the Lane

“Now, are you ready to satisfy my hunger?"
"I could ask you the same thing."
She turned in the circle of his arms, and this time, she grabbed his ass and writhed her pelvis against him. "Just for the record? I want everything you dish up and more. I'm greedy that way."
He growled and hoisted her over his shoulder, leaving her upside down and pummeling at his impressive ass with her fists. "Put me down, you crazy man."
"Crazy for you," he said, lowering her gently when they reached the bed. "And I'm about to show you exactly how much.”
― Nicola Marsh, The Man Ban

“His grin is all teeth and anticipation. "I'll own you, Delilah. For one year, your ass will be mine."
Good Lord, he says it like he relishes the idea. Like he has plans for me.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“His dark eyes suddenly appear a little boyish. "Can you, ah, put bubbles in?"
I grin wide. "You want a bubble bath?"
"Hey. The bubbles help keep in the heat, and they smell nice."
The man is a good ten inches taller than me, with shoulders twice as wide. The world knows him as a barbarian warlord king-killer on their favorite show. But he is adorable just now.
"You don't have to convince me," I say lightly. "I love a good bubble bath."
"Do you now?" he murmurs under his breath but then gives me an innocent look when I glance back.
He wasn't kidding about his love of bubbles. Multiple bath gels and a nice wide loofah wait on a rack by the tub. I eye it, and he shifts his weight as if being caught out. Not hiding my smile, I pour some gel into the water rushing from the faucet. The scents of bergamot and warm vanilla fill the humid air. It's a subtle fragrance but delicious, like sticking your nose into the warm crook of a well-groomed man's neck.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“Put your hands on me; get comfortable with being close to me, taking what you want. Nothing is off limits."
Oh, God. I want that. He is acres of smooth, slick skin and rippling muscles. I'd touch him all night and then lose my ever-loving mind. "How is that not sex?"
"Because it's only you touching me." His gaze glides over me like liquid silk. "Do you want to?"
The breathy "Yes" is out of my mouth before I can think.
His nostrils flare, the look in his eyes pure temptation. "Then touch me, Delilah.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“Rest back again."
He does and then groans when I start massaging the shampoo into his hair. The sound goes straight to my core. I work slowly. Slower than I should, but it feels good to have my hands on him. My fingers glide over the hard curve of his skull, down to the thick cords of his neck.
"God," he whispers. "Please don't stop."
His muscles are so strong here that it hurts my fingers to dig in, but his noises of pleasure and the way he leans into my touch keep me going.
Foam rinses around my hands; water trickles down the tan column of his neck to wander over the hills and valleys of his wide-set shoulders. My lips swell with the need to follow those waterdrops, press against his wet skin. I bite the inside of my cheek.
Macon sighs, his lids lowering, and I move closer, my breasts hitting the back of the tub. I push along the rise of his shoulders. They're like silk over granite, slippery wet and warm. He grunts, and I do it again. He leans into my hands, whimpering softly. I take the moment to rise and turn on the taps again. We don't speak as I rinse the shampoo from his hair.
It's a strange thing, taking care of him this way. I'm turned on--- more than I thought I could be. It's a low hum in my body, the lush swelling of my breasts, of my sex. It's in the painful tenderness in my nipples and the sensitive edges of my lips. I want to savor him like I do fine dark chocolate, letting each bite melt on my tongue, lingering over the delicious taste of it.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy