Slow Burn Quotes

“We were fools.”

“You were children. Was there no one to protect you?”

“Was there anyone to protect you?”

“My father. My mother. They would have done anything to keep me from being stolen.”

“And they would have been mowed down by slavers.”

“Then I guess I was lucky I didn’t have to see that.”

How could she still look at the world that way? “Sold into a brothel at age fourteen and you count yourself lucky.”

“They loved me. They love me. I believe that.” He saw her draw closer in the mirror. Her black hair was an ink splash against the white tile walls. She paused behind him. “You protected me, Kaz.”

“The fact that you’re bleeding through your bandages tells me otherwise.”

She glanced down. A red blossom of blood had spread on the bandage tied around her shoulder. She tugged awkwardly at the strip of towel. “I need Nina to fix this one.”

He didn’t mean to say it. He meant to let her go. “I can help you.”

Her gaze snapped to his in the mirror, wary as if gauging an opponent. I can help you. They were the first words she’d spoken to him, standing in the parlor of the Menagerie, draped in purple silk, eyes lined in kohl. She had helped him. And she’d nearly destroyed him. Maybe he should let her finish the job.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

“While not unappetizing, the food was too spicy. Not to mention, there were things on her plate that she didn’t recognize and was not prepared to eat.”
― Alyssa Hall, And Then I Heard the Quiet

“She remembered the first time she’d seen him at the Menagerie. He paid Tante Heleen for information—stock tips, political pillow talk, anything the Menagerie’s clients blabbed about when drunk or giddy on bliss. He never visited Heleen’s girls, though plenty would have been happy to take him up to their rooms. They claimed he gave them the shivers, that his hands were permanently stained with blood beneath those black gloves, but she’d recognized the eagerness in their voices and the way they tracked him with their eyes.

One night, as he’d passed her in the parlor, she’d done a foolish thing, a reckless thing. “I can help you,” she’d whispered. He’d glanced at her, then proceeded on his way as if she’d said nothing at all. The next morning, she’d been called to Tante Heleen’s parlor. She’d been sure another beating was coming or worse, but instead Kaz Brekker had been standing there, leaning on his crow-head cane, waiting to change her life.

“I can help you,” she said now.

“Help me with what?”

She couldn’t remember. There was something she was supposed to tell him. It didn’t matter anymore.

“Talk to me, Wraith.”

“You came back for me.”

“I protect my investments.”

Investments. “I’m glad I’m bleeding all over your shirt.”

“I’ll put it on your tab.”

Now she remembered. He owed her an apology. “Say you’re sorry.”

“For what?”

“Just say it.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows

“I can feel her pulse through our linked hands, steady and strong—matching mine.”
― Tricia Newlan, Echoes of One Night: Forbidden Love Romance

“You burned my name to ash. I’m only what rose from it.”
― Theron Lysandros, The Fire Prince´s Bride: A lyrical fantasy of power, memory, and the girl who let the fire go

“Smoky blue eyes bore into me. His breath misted the air between us for a brief instant before he bent, his lips finding mine.”
― Briar Black, Bane

“Michael laughed. "Preserving your mystique?"
"Something like that."
"Might you and your mystique be free for dinner?”
― Briar Black, Bane

“Do I like the obedience? Or the thrill of his approval? My brain is too hazy to decide if this is submission, or survival.
Can’t it be both?”
― Isabel van Loen, Lowered Lashes

“You once told me music saved you more times than you can count. And you wanted to share that with as many people as you could. And you’ve done it—even when it cost you everything. Even when it hurt. Even when it bled. You’ve taken hit after hit to stay true to that calling, because that’s who you are.”
― Aya Winter, Through the Glory and the Mess: Music. Fame. Power. Trauma. And a love that refuses to die quietly.

“Good,” he murmurs, his eyes satisfied and certain. “Then I’ll take care of the rest.”
― Isabel van Loen, Lowered Lashes

“That’s where you’ll end up when you try to take control,” he murmurs, looking down at me.”
― Isabel van Loen

“His hand leaves the back of the seat. He places it, instead, flat on my thigh. He looks at me, not at the men.
“That’s enough.”
I feel my cheeks flush. I set my glass down.
Then he turns to the table—composed, gracious.
“Gentlemen, don’t encourage her,” he says, his tone lighter.”
― Isabel van Loen, Lowered Lashes

“Wordlessly, he continues spanking, finding a rhythm.
I gasp, breathing in muffled sobs as prickling sensation turns to searing pain.
“I won’t, sir,” I whimper, defeated.
I give a ragged cry as he smacks me one last time.
“You’re sure?” he asks, steadying his hand on my stinging skin. “Because I can do this all night.”
“Yes, sir,” I whisper, voice shaking.
At that, his touch softens. He presses his hand against my warm skin, rubbing slow, grounding circles along the curve of my hip.
He leans over me, pressing a kiss to the nape of my neck.
“Good girl, Mia,” he murmurs, his voice low and pleased. He turns me gently, pulling me into his lap.
The weight of his arm over me steadies my breath again. I rest my head on his chest, melting into the closeness I’ve been craving.”
― Isabel van Loen, Lowered Lashes

“Great. How’s Mr. Capital Gains?”
“Good,” I say. “Really good.”
“How’s the sex?”
I smile. “Well.. pretty amazing. He’s kind of, uh…”
I pause.
“What?” she says.
“He likes it… a little rough, I guess.”
“Rough how?” Lidia says, unphased.
“Well,” I say slowly, “he spanked me last night.”
“My god,” she exhales. “I love it. Was it a rush? I’ve heard it’s a rush.”
I laugh. Lidia’s probably the only person in the world I could tell that to.
“Yeah, I think so,” I say. “It was kind of hot.”
Lidia laughs. “It’s only hot because he’s a millionaire.”
― Isabel van Loen, Lowered Lashes

“I glance over at David. He rests his hand lightly at the small of my back, guiding me across the floor. We step down a gilded hallway, the pale-blue walls trimmed with ornate gold. The lighting, soft and warm, seems to blur the edges of everything it touches.”
― Isabel van Loen, Lowered Lashes

“I glance up at him. The dim evening light makes his jaw look even more chiseled.
“You behaved impeccably tonight,” he says.
I smile, surprised. “Thank you.”
His hand catches mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles before he returns it to the wheel.
The townhouse is quiet when we step inside, the soft click of the door behind us marking the end of the evening’s formality.
I slip out of my heels and set them gently by the door. David hangs up his suit jacket, his eyes on me.
He extends a hand, then leads me into the living room, flicking on one lamp as we walk in.”
― Isabel van Loen, Lowered Lashes

“I think about being… dominated,” I admit, my eyes squeezed shut. “And maybe… being spanked. Disciplined.”
David moans calmly. “I think most women do. Tell me more,” he coaxes.”
― Isabel van Loen, Lowered Lashes

“What is it about you and my hair?" I asked, half laughing as I pulled out the first pins and put them in my pockets. "It's just wavy and brown."
"You see brown." He pulled the rubber band off the end of the braid when it fell and started to unravel it. "I see chocolate and nutmeg and cinnamon..."
I raised my eyebrows. "I think you might need some non edible adjectives. It's like you really want to eat me."
He raised his eyebrows back. "Don't I?"
A giggle bubbled up. "Touché.”
― Sarah Chamberlain, Love Walked In

“Even my grandmother in the village dressed me better than this pitiful attire. - Jessica.”
― Sasha Krupenych, Slave of Bad Luck

“There's a particular kind of torture to the waiting, the pining, the slowest burn, like setting fire to wet logs. One that flickers and pops like grease in a pan. Wondering if you'll yearn for him all four years.”
― Ebony LaDelle, You've Got a Place Here, Too: An Anthology of Black Love Stories Set at HBCUs

“The thing about a slow burn is even with all that logic, the agony you feel of wanting what you want doesn't go away.”
― Ebony LaDelle, You've Got a Place Here, Too: An Anthology of Black Love Stories Set at HBCUs

“I didn’t fall in love with him, I fell into him, like gravity had been waiting for us all along.”
― Arden Frost, The Sorceress of the crystal forest: A Dark Romantasy of Desire and Power

“Blue thumped his tail. Spike shook his head once, as if he’d heard enough promises and would prefer lunch.”
― Kirk Voclain, Boots and Stilettos

“Behind every guarded heart is a story waiting to be understood. I write the ones that finally get their chance.”
― Lee Emery, Damaged Love

“Desire was the one thing they were never trained to control.”
― Ocean X, Between Masks

“This is how she’d looked while standing in front of Reece Caldwell, the sexiest man to ever walk the halls of the high school?”
― Christine Miles

“This being why she, Stacey Kinsella, had always been the definition of unlucky when it came to all things love and romance. A schoolteacher spinster in the making who also happened to have two cats.”
― Christine Miles

“Arnie Sebold had officially cinched the definition of a small-town, small-minded, sexist, mine-is-better-thinking asshat.”
― Christine Miles

“It’s not like he saw anything that would make it truly scandalous.”
― Christine Miles

“If you like the way Alfred Hitchcock built suspense—
letting unease creep in quietly—
THE DOOR might be your kind of read.”
― Eric Brown, THE DOOR: It's not locked. It's waiting.