Sexual Attraction Quotes

“Unfortunately, the more time he [Gaunt] spent with Elisabeth, the more apparent it became how fruitless it was to try to want her. He could appreciate her beauty in an artistic sense, as if she were a sculpture in a museum, but it was a flat, textureless sort of admiration. If love was stepping off a cliff in the hope of flying, there was a wall at the precipice that had never been there with Sandys, or Ellwood, or even Devi, whom Gaunt had helplessly adored at thirteen. He felt no fear around Elisabeth, because there was no chance of falling. He was fond of her, but he would never say to her, '"Withhold no atom's atom of I die!”
― Alice Winn, In Memoriam

“Each trait that we consider sexually attractive already summarizes a huge amount of information about an individual's genes, body, and mind.”
― Geoffrey Miller, The Mating Mind: How Sexual Choice Shaped the Evolution of Human Nature

“When she drew near, the rich musk of him wrapped her again: shaving soap, ale, and that delicious, darker something---him. It might as well have been opium for what it did to the run of her thoughts.”
― Julie Anne Long, Beauty and the Spy

“While for man, the physicality of woman fuels his sexual love for her, it was the sexual fulfillment from man that feeds woman’s love for him.”
― B.S. Murthy, Crossing the Mirage - Passing through Youth

“He’s forbidden fruit in hot brooding Italian man form, and just like Eve before me, I can’t resist taking a bite or two.”
― Seanan McGuire, Midnight Blue-Light Special

“The bass from the music vibrated into the floor. Carolina came alive with the movement. She swayed back and forth, swinging her hips and twirling in his arms. Enrique grabbed her by the waist and spun her around a few times. She placed her hand on his chest, which sent a jolt through his body.
She was so damn sexy. His hand lowered to her incredible ass.
Enrique leaned in and kissed her on the neck. "You're so hot, babe."
She grinned and tossed back her hair in a quick dip before he swept her close again. Enrique imagined she would look just like this in bed--- carefree, passionate, and wild.”
― Alana Albertson, Kiss Me, Mi Amor

“I wasn’t giving this guy an inch. He disturbed me. I didn’t like things that disturbed me, which is why I was licensed to shoot most things that disturbed me. Unfortunately, humans were not on the list and sexual attraction was not considered a valid reason to shoot someone.”
― Angelia Sparrow, Spellbound Desire

“He sips a latte, complimenting the yummy nutty-vanilla flavor of the ube before taking a giant bite of his croissant. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he moans, and I nearly choke. I'm one thousand percent certain that I've never heard a sexier sound in my life.”
― Sarah Echavarre Smith, The Boy With the Bookstore

“Here!"
"Aye, but where the hell is---? Oh."
Claray peered over her shoulder to see the Wolf staring at her from some ten feet away. His gaze was fixed on her lower legs with a sort of heated interest that made her look down. It was only then that she realized that she was holding her skirts rather high. They were actually halfway between her knees and her nether region, leaving an indecent amount of leg on view.”
― Lynsay Sands, Highland Wolf

“Making love to a person by penetration is easy, to make a person feel loved, not so much.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Esperanza Impossible: 100 Sonnets of Ethics, Engineering & Existence

“I had to remind myself of all the ways that he might be Buffalo Bill, and my erotically charged moment was his puts the lotion on its skin. He could take me anywhere. He looked like the kind of guy who'd be savvy about which highway exit had the best wooded area for dumping a body. Maybe that was why he drove a truck. Which I was currently sitting in.
Which of those options honestly scared me more--- that he could be up to some dark shit, or just that I had a crush? Maybe my true crime reading had desensitized me after all, because I knew which of those made my heart speed up.”
― Alicia Thompson, Love in the Time of Serial Killers

“I reached up to remove the elastic hair-tie, unwinding my standard bun until my hair fell around my shoulders in dark waves. I scrunched my hands in it at my scalp, shaking it out to try to get it to lose the kinks from being wound up so long. I still had that funny, half-painful feeling around my temples of my hair being pulled back. Maybe I should wear it down more. I might be giving myself headaches with this style.
"So it's down to about..." I started to gesture, then realized I was about to point to just below my breasts. "Anyway. The more you know."
Sam was still looking at my hair, his gaze traveling to the ends before he, too, seemed to realize that he was basically also now staring at my breasts. He focused instead on some point at the crown of my head, clearing his throat. "It's pretty," he said. "You have very pretty hair."
Under my shirt, my nipples were tight and almost painful against the thin fabric of my bra. I'd never been more grateful for the thick screen-printed image of Jim Carrey's Riddler, because it hopefully did a good job of hiding this reaction.”
― Alicia Thompson, Love in the Time of Serial Killers

“His gaze dipped to my breasts before coming up to meet mine. Maybe it was the otherworldly lighting or the fact that his eyelashes were dark and spiky with water, but his eyes looked electric blue.
I glanced down at my cleavage, which, sure enough, had a smear of paint right across the top of my left breast. "Huh," I said. "How did that get there?"
You could also totally see my nipples through this bra. Whoops.”
― Alicia Thompson, Love in the Time of Serial Killers

“He set a raspberry cheese slice wrapped in parchment paper on the counter and she slid it off, biting off the corner with an "mmm." Her eyes closed as she chewed and swallowed, taking another large bite with an even more audible sigh.
"That is indecent," Steph said. He wished he could figure out the rest of their names, but at least time was on his side again.
"It is indecent in the very best way," she said. "Everything tastes ten times better than it ever did before." She held out the pastry to each of her friends so they could taste, all nodding in agreement. Most patrons didn't eat their treats while still in the building, and it was wildly satisfying to witness her enjoyment, titillating even. Parts of him tightened that hadn't tightened in response to another person in much too long. One of the friends pointed out the fleck of glaze perched on her lip and she licked it into her mouth. Talk about indecent. He placed both of his hands on top of the pastry case to steady himself, his knees suddenly unstable like he'd spent a morning moving bags of flour from the kitchen to the cellar. He was grateful the apron covered the front of him.”
― Amy E. Reichert, Once Upon a December

“Go upstairs and wait for me," he ordered her.
Kate stopped, taken off guard by the velvet undertones in his deep voice. She forgot her anger for a heartbeat, arrested by the promise of pleasure in his smoky eyes; she stood motionless, staring at him but disoriented when the drug swept her up in its most disturbing side effect yet.
Attraction. Arousal.
A fatal fascination with him gripped her. He was beautiful, undeniably, but an utter mystery to her. One she suddenly desired to solve, obsessed as she had always been with finding hidden answers. An impetuous hunger to taste his lips stormed through her blood.”
― Gaelen Foley, My Dangerous Duke

“Her throat interested him greatly, the lovely arc beneath her dainty earlobe, the milky skin, the silken cascade of her perfumed hair...
His mind drifted, the wine warming his senses. It had now been three days since he'd had a woman, and he had not forgotten the way she had felt beneath him last night. He still wanted her in spite of himself.
Her lips' dewy roses beguiled him, along with the teasing sparkle in those emerald green eyes beneath her black velvet lashes. The candlelight brought out a golden luster in the depths of her light brown hair and danced along the delicate lines of her bare shoulders.
Was it wrong to want to lick the caramel sauce out of her splendid cleavage instead of drizzling it politely on the cheesecake? He did his best to keep a tight rein on his dangerous hunger for her, even as his hands tingled with yearning to caress all her creamy, glowing skin.
As he took another large swallow of port, he contemplated the fact that there was one sure way to find out if she was really as innocent as she would have him believe.
If she was a part of her forebears' sinister conspiracy, it was unlikely that she was a virgin. He was keenly tempted to verify her status for himself by luring her into his bed and finishing what they had started last night.”
― Gaelen Foley, My Dangerous Duke

“He eyed her hungrily. "Now, eat your cake or whatever it is and try to be a good girl."
"It's German apple puff, for your information. Have you tried it? It's delicious. Here." She leaned slowly across the table and fed him a bite from her spoon.
He helped himself to a leisurely look at her décolletage as he opened his mouth and accepted. "Mm. That is good."
"Told you so." Her eyes twinkled as she leaned back in her chair in leisurely contentment.
"I thought you said a while ago you had no room left for the sweets."
"I'm pacing myself. Besides---" She took another dainty nibble off her dessert spoon. "There were no corsets in the trunk of goodies your servants brought me, so, you see, I'm wonderfully free to make a glutton of myself."
This little fact arrested his full attention. His stare homed in on her figure--- what he could see of it over the table. "You mean...?"
"Indeed, Your Grace. Tonight, I go au naturel." She laughed like she enjoyed teasing him and took another remorseless bite of German apple puff.
Rohan watched her with strange sensations of delight.
God, she was a maddening woman. An unpredictable blend of innocence and passion. Intelligent, mercurial. Her prickly side amused him, but he liked her even better like this, open and relaxed.
Uncorseted.
In her scintillating humor, she threw off light like the candle glow as it played over the cut-crystal facets of their wine goblets. In short, she enchanted him. Maybe she had inherited some of her ancestor Valerian's magic.
Rohan had a feeling he was doomed.
He could sense a most unforeseen bond growing between them and did not know what to make of it.
"Staring again, Your Grace?"
"I've just decided you are rather naughty. And I like it."
She shrugged. "You said we were celebrating. Anyway, it's your fault. If you wanted me to behave, you shouldn't have made me try so many wines."
"Why on earth would I want that?" he asked softly.
"Hm." She caught a bead of condensation running down the shaft of her narrow champagne flute on her fingertip and brought it to her lips.
Damn, but just watching her got him hard.”
― Gaelen Foley, My Dangerous Duke

“Bravely, Kate went closer, joining him beside the table. "Here." She set the dragon book on it while Rohan dragged his fingers through his hair, shoving his long, sable locks back from his face. Tendrils of his hair still clung to his hot, damp skin.
The heat radiating from his big, hard body and the musky male scent of him had a maddening effect on her senses, which she strove to ignore.”
― Gaelen Foley, My Dangerous Duke

“Sexual attraction is aspiration in its most elemental form.”
― Glenn Haybittle, Byron and Shelley

“You are my sex test pilot!”
― Steven Magee

“A relationship has its advantages.”
― Steven Magee

“You, me and testosterone!”
― Steven Magee

“As I have aged, my view of big breasted ladies has changed from ‘Wow, she looks great!’ to ‘Wow, she must have really bad back issues!’.”
― steven magee

“He liked sex. A lot. Nothing felt better than the hard vibration of a bike between his thighs unless it was the smooth, naked slide into a soft, wet woman.”
― Kate Angell, The Café Between Pumpkin and Pie

“Instead of handing him back his pen, she decided to add one more thing.
She handed him the list, which he read, then gave a low, sexy chuckle.
" 'Is interested in joining the mile-high club.' I've got just the chopper for that," he said as he kissed her again.”
― Marina Adair, The Café Between Pumpkin and Pie

“She emerged from the room.
Enrique's eyes traveled seductively all over her body. "Wow."
He motioned for her to turn.
She twirled around, and even added a little dance kick. She felt like a princess.
He pulled her close and kissed her. "You're a smokeshow, Carolina."
She hadn't heard that term before. She didn't understand his SoCal surfer boy slang, and he couldn't comprehend her Spanish. But they shared one language that needed no translating.
Amor.”
― Alana Albertson, Kiss Me, Mi Amor

“Cullen merely sighed and nuzzled into the breasts presently cuddling him. Really, damp though they were, they were quite lovely, and if a man had to be smothered to death, this was not a bad way to go. He felt something hard nudging his right cheek beside his mouth and realized her nipples had grown hard. She also suddenly stilled like prey sensing danger. Not wishing to send her running with fear, he opened his mouth and tried to turn his head to speak a word or two of reassurance to calm her.
"Calm yerself," was what he said. Cullen didn't believe in wasting words. However, it was doubtful if she understood what he said since his words came out muffled by the nipple suddenly filling his open mouth. Despite his intentions not to scare her, when he realized it was a nipple in his mouth, he couldn't resist closing his lips around it and flicking his tongue over the linen-covered bud.”
― Lynsay Sands, Devil of the Highlands

“Let me see your eyes."
He lifted his face, and Evelinde clasped him by both cheeks, her gaze moving slowly over his eyes. They looked perfectly fine to her, however. More than fine. They were really quite beautiful; large and a deep brown so dark they appeared almost black. They were also fringed by long black lashes. The rest of his face was rugged, however, with sharp planes, an arrow-straight nose, and his lips---
Evelinde's eyes paused there, noting that his upper lip was thin, but the lower one was full and looked as if it would be soft to the touch. Before she could think better of it, curiosity made her shift one thumb to rub it over the pillowed surface, and she found it was indeed soft. Then Evelinde realized what she'd done. She could feel a sudden blush rise to cover her face and released him abruptly.
"There was a bit of dirt there," she lied, trying to step away at the same time, but his legs immediately closed on either side of her. Finding herself trapped between his knees, Evelinde felt her first moment of disquiet with the man. Not fear, exactly. For some reason she felt sure she had nothing to fear from this man, but the action did make her nervous.”
― Lynsay Sands, Devil of the Highlands

“I stand up and pull my dress off and wander, yawning, into the bathroom. Then I hear a yelp.
I spin around, naked, and there is Leo, in my bathroom. Standing on the bath mat dripping wet, just out of the shower.
Also completely naked.
There is a moment where our eyes meet, then his flicker down my body and mine down his, tracing the lines of his chest and the curving muscles on his stomach, beads of water trailing down to pool on the floor. I feel an instant reaction inside, a coiling of a spring that pulls tight from my chest to my thighs.
I stare at him and the whole universe narrows to this moment. His stomach flexes, and his hands clench, his eyes on the curve where my neck meets my shoulder, and then they drop to my breasts and I feel all my blood rush to where his gaze rests, my breath shallowing to tiny gasps for air.
I am drawn to him. I lift my hand just a fraction, my fingers reaching forward, and he spots the signal, his eyes once again locking with mine. But now they are dark, his pupils dilated, his face tense with desire.”
― Lizzy Dent, Just One Taste

“On account of their puny size and disappointing taste, in France wild pears are known as "poires d'angoisse" or pears of anguish. In Versailles, though, in the kitchen garden, pears are bred for pleasure. Of the five hundred pear trees, the best usually fruit in January--- the royal favorite, a type called "Bon Chrétien d'Hiver," or "Good Christian of Winter." Each pear is very large--- the blossom end engorged, the eye deeply sunk--- whilst the skin is a finely grained pale yellow, with a red blush on the side that has been touched by the sunlight. It is known for its brittle, lightly scented, almost translucent flesh that drips with a sugary juice; that soaks your mouth when your teeth sink into it. The gardener here, Jean-Baptiste de La Quintinie, says that when a pear is ripe its neck yields to the touch and smells slightly of wet roses.
This winter they have not ripened, though, but have frozen to solid gold. Murders of crows sit on the branches of the pear trees, pecking at the rime of them. They have become fairy fruit; those dangling impossibilities. What would you give to taste one?

Spring always comes, though. Is it not magic? The world's deep magic.
March brings the vast respite of thaw, that huge unburdening, that gentling--- all winter's knives and jaws turning soft and blunt; little chunks of ice riding off on their own giddy melt; everything dripping and plipping and making little streams and rivulets; tender pellucid fingers feeling their way towards the sea; all the tiny busywork.
And with the returning sun, too, sex. Tulips, first found as wild flowers in Central Asia--- named for the Persian word "tulipan," for turban--- thrust and bow in the warm soil of Versailles, their variegated "broken" petals licked with carmine flames. The early worm-catchers begin their chorus, skylarks and song thrushes courting at dawn. Catkins dangle like soft, tiny pairs of elven stockings. Fairy-sized wigs appear on the pussy willows. Hawthorn and sloe put on their powder and patches, to catch a bee's eye.”
― Clare Pollard, The Modern Fairies