Anders Romance Quotes

Wife trumps all.

Why didn't you let me die? You could have finally been free." "I gave up trying to imagine a world without you." - Essallie & Kayden

I'm a poet and you are poetry

Man, this is the world’s worst workout program. The Drag Your Own Butter.

I’d do anything to be inside you right now.

Im Geiste rückte Helen noch näher an das Liebespaar heran, obwohl sie längst wusste, wen die andere Helen gerade küsste. Lucas. Er hatte ein Schwert am Gürtel und war seltsam gekleidet. Er trug Sandalen und seien Hände waren mit abgewetzten Lederstreifen, über denen er Bronzehandschuhe trug. Doch es war eindeutig Lucas. Das bewies auch sein Lachen, als die andere Helen ihn mit Küssen überschüttete.

We’re heading out into the most dangerous place on earth with killers after us?” “Yeah.” He couldn’t help a grim smirk. “Better hit the road.

He’d touched her, felt her skin, seen her pleasure, and it scared the living hell out of him. She’d burn him if she got too close. And he wasn’t sure he’d survive it.

The Ice Man… cometh.

I thought you were a jerk.” He shook with an unexpected burst of laughter. “I know.” He squeezed her tight, trying to figure out how to keep her alive. “I know.

He rose. “Come here.” Like a moth to a flame, mesmerized, or hypnotized, or something. Angel went to him, giving herself up to Ford Cooper’s ephemeral net.

You feel a loss of control?” “Never… Never had control to begin with.

Suddenly, he understood why he couldn’t have her back then, or now. Or ever. He was a starving man and she was an oasis, a hallucination, a single sparkling drop of water in his desiccated world. And the problem with giving in, drinking that water, getting just one little taste, was that he’d know exactly what he’d been missing. And he’d never, ever be able to go back.

Sie denkt: Sie sagen einfach nur Worte und was sind Worte anderes als Geräusche, die diese Männer aus Atem formen, gewichtslose Dämpfe, die sie in die Küchenluft schicken, wo sie sich auflösen und sterben.

De wederzijdse liefde is zelden een logisch gevolg van een objectieve evaluatie van het totaal aan kenmerken, karaktereigenschappen, kwaliteiten en onhebbelijkheden van de ander en begint in ieder geval nooit zo. Veeleer dan op een analyse van hoe de ander werkelijk is, is de liefde gebaseerd op de tamelijk willekeurige aanname of het roekeloze besluit dat de ander zich leent tot de projectie van onze verlangens.

He moved in, set his chin on her shoulder, and whispered, “I can’t…” When he didn’t go on, she turned a little to the right, enough to put the tips of their noses together. “Can’t what?” “Can’t stop wanting you.

On the ice, in the Antarctic cold, in the middle of freaking nowhere, his tongue showed her how dirty sex could be, his body made her take it, and that dark, raspy husk of a voice broke in to turn the whole thing up a million degrees.

Cooking’s like making music.” She threw him a smile. “It’s the perfect storm of smell and touch and taste and even sound, you know? That sizzle in the pan, the pop of spices. The moment you turn the heat off and there, right there, the ingredients let off a warm, enveloping steam.” “I eat to survive,” he said, matter-of-factly. She opened her mouth, then shut it. Was it sad to eat for survival? That was exactly what they were doing right here and the pleasure of it was almost blinding.

He pauses his analysis of my chest and looks up into my eyes. His stare holds me there for a long moment and I realise I am succumbing to his will whether I like it or not. He is the predator—he has been all along—and I am his prey. Aurelie of Donrose, it seems, was no match for this invader from the northlands. “Unexpected?” he repeats. He rises with care to a standing position, grasping the post to his left for support. His tall frame is now right next to me, his head skimming the silken canopy over us. He leans toward me and presses himself against my nakedness. I gasp, closing my eyes at the contact and yet relishing the physical closeness. “Does that mean my captive is warming to her new master?” I open my eyes to find his face right there, above me, that large mouth ready to devour its prey. “I… I don’t know,” I whisper, looking into his eyes. There’s an honesty about my answer that disconcerts me. Anders shifts his weight slightly, snaking his right hand around my body and skimming my behind. Once there he grabs my left cheek and holds me, using my own body to pull me closer to him. My throbbing wet centre, already pushed forward by the bondage holding my ankles in place, nestles against his clothed right thigh. “You are not sure, Aurelie, or you are just too afraid to say?” I blush at his accurate analysis of the situation, dropping my eyes from his gaze. His hand rises north, leaving my ass and taking me by surprise. Anders uses each long digit to trace lines up the left side of my body, pausing at the curve of my bosom, and then finally reaching the side of my face. Once here, the hand tips my chin upward to meet his eye line, holding it in place once he is satisfied with the position. He eyes me intently and I realise that he is expecting an answer. “Too afraid…

Anders looked up and saw Rik’s chocolate eyes. Even though they were brown, a closer look revealed a blue corona around the dark, almost mahogany brown irises. He’d seen a piece of agate like that once on a dig; a perfect marriage of brown and blue in the depths of a broken stone.

Seine Lippen waren so zart, ganz anders, als sie sich Männerlippen vorgestellt hatte. Es war so ein kraftvolles und eindringliches Gefühl gewesen, als er sie geküsst hatte, dass es ihr fast unwirklich erschien.

That's what I'm trying to do; it's like counting stars, only so much prettier.

I find Anders very funny and funny lasts forever." Samantha

Als je nu je ogen weer opent moet je eens om je heen kijken. Dit is waarom historie mij zo raakt. Het idee dat mensen deze zelfde ruimte honderden jaren geleden ook zo hebben gezien vind ik intrigerend. Uiteraard hangen er nu andere schilderijen en staan er geen authentieke meubels meer, maar de haard, het plafond en de ramen met de houten luiken zullen niet veel veranderd zijn. Wat zullen de mensen die het slot toen bezochten gedacht hebben? Waren ze gelukkig of hadden ze zorgen? Wat deed hun hart sneller kloppen?’ Haar ogen sprankelen. ‘Sorry, ik kan me hier helemaal in verliezen.