Lips touch Quotes

“Lips move; lips touch; lips signal. Lips are on the outside for show, and on the most secret inside of your mouth. Lips frame words that lie. Lips frame a hole that wants to be filled.”

“A fire burned in her chest. A fire that both terrified her and compelled her to lean into him and take everything he would give her. She trembled with the force of these strange emotions. "Shona." He lifted his hand to gently tilt her chin up and caress her cheek. His breath teased her lips and his nose touched hers briefly. "Aye," she responded. His masculine scent and that of spices from the mulled wine stole her thoughts. When his lips touched hers like a light brush of silk, she was ensnared and her breath remained trapped in her chest. Some instinct within her surged to the surface and she pressed her lips firmly against his.”

“Is it the raindrops pervading my being?or is it your lips touching my skin?”

“and when his lips touched mine forthe very first time . . . i knew he is theone”

“And then in a moment of pure magic, our lips touch tenderly and sensitively!”

“Maybe you are just a liquid dream. Seeping into my soul in the dead of night when everything sleeps apart from my memories from another life, another electric, terrifying, lasciviously greedy time, when your lips touched my body, while mapping the skincape unfolding beneath your breath leaving a ripple of mesmerising carnal pleasures, lingering in my veins...Or maybe you are not...”

“We are staring at each other, forgetting about the harsh reality and I can feel my heart reacting. He touches my cheek and the familiar electric current runs through me. His hands are warm, caressing my pale skin. His deep-blue eyes are filled with serenity and passion. I keep telling myself to breathe, but I am unable to exhale the air from my lungs. Then he leans forward and his lips touch mine, increasing the temperature in my body. He kisses me gently, trying to break his way through, testing to see if I let him in. His lips are sweet and warm. A few seconds later it is all over and he disappears once again, leaving me uncontrollably awake and trying to gather my wild thoughts.”

“It was the only lullaby she would ever sing, and it was sung in Hell.”

“When they had hurried to the train station with their violin cases, they had drawn almost as many stares as they would on any normal day when their hair was to their knees and sheeting behind them like red silk. A poetic fruit-seller had told them once that they looked like dryads, and they did still, only now they looked like dryads who had tired of snagging their hair on brambles and sliced it all off on the edge of a knife.”

“And Esme remembered in a rush--the wolfsong, the haunting, lyrical spirals of it in the dawn quiet and the feeling of euphoria that had attended it. Even in recollection the howling uplifted her like the crescendo at the end of a symphony and made her heartbeat quicken.”