Shower Romance Quotes

Ô, Wanderess, Wanderess When did you feel your most euphoric kiss? Was I the source of your greatest bliss?

For you, my love, I would endeavor to pluck the stars from the sky, only to shower them at your feet.” “How do you do that?’ “Do what?” “Say things like that. That’s beautiful.” “I’ve spent years studying poetry, Mrs. Emerson. It’s in my DNA.

Our lips were for each other and our eyes were full of dreams. We knew nothing of travel and we knew nothing of loss. Ours was a world of eternal spring, until the summer came.

Yo, Dekko, who do I gotta blow around here to get a shower?

Stars, that hand gets cold,” Kai murmured. Rolling onto his back, he took the prosthetic hand in between both of his palms, warming it as he would warm icy fingers on a winter’s day. Cinder sat up and looked down at him. His eyes were still closed. He could have fallen asleep again, but for his palms rubbing over her metal hand. His shirt was rumpled, his hair tousled against the sheets. “Kai?” He grunted in response. “I love you.” A sleepy smile curved across his mouth. “I love you too.” “Good.” Leaning over, she kissed him fast. “Because I’m taking the shower first.

He took my hand and held it against his chest, "Feel that? It beats for you.

A question that always makes me hazy is it me or are the others crazy' Albert Einstein

I'm going to be honest with you. I don't want to sit here all night making small talk when all I want to do is kiss you.

Ô, Muse of the Heart’s Passion, let me relive my Love’s memory, to remember her body, so brave and so free, and the sound of my Dreameress singing to me, and the scent of my Dreameress sleeping by me, Ô, sing, sweet Muse, my soliloquy!

The image of him frozen to the spot in the pouring rain would be etched into my memory forever.

One small hand lifted to the shower head and he stilled. He’d yet to see her skin; the dragon had claimed her on scent alone.

It's me," a deep voice rumbled. The hands released me and I turned. There stood Derek, all six foot of him. Maybe it was just the thrill of seeing him, but he looked better than I remembered. His black hair was still lank, and his face was still dotted with acne. But he looked...better. ~~~~~ Tori waited until Derek was gone, then shuddered. "Okay, Derek always weired me out, but the wolf man stuff is seriously creepy. Suits him, I suppose. A creepy power for a creepy guy." "I thought he looked better." She stared at me. "What? He does. Probably because he's starting his wolf changes and he's not stressed out about being in Lyle House. That must help." "You know what will really help? Shampoo. Deodorant - " I raised my hand to cut her off. "He smelled fine, so don't start that. I'm sure his wearing deodorant and - for once-it's working. As for showers, they're a little hard to come by on the street, and we won't look much better soon." "I'm just saying." "Do you think he doesn't know you're saying? News flash-he's not stupid.

I’m a little dirty,” he said huskily, running his hand up and down the outside of one of her thighs. “I washed up but should have showered. Didn’t expect this.” “You probably should have expected this.” Her voice sounded a little breathless. “Yeah,” he agreed, his eyes darkening. “I probably should have.” “It’s okay,” she told him. “I’m washable.” Images of showers and soap bubbles tripped through her mind and she hoped through his as well. He gave her a little grin. “Good to know. Means I can get you really dirty.” Juliet felt her breathing quicken. She put her hand against his face, over his scar. “I really want that.” Sawyer slid a hand up her back and into her hair. He urged her closer until her lips were nearly against his. “Me, too.

I prescribe a quick jerk off in the shower and a return to sanity. (Dr. Hugo Peralta)

I’m Jammer.” “What kind of name is that?” It sounded ridiculous “It’s the name you’ll be calling out the next time you’re holding a shower head between your legs and wishing it was my mouth.

After you were bitten, I knew what would happen. I waited for you to change, every night, so I could bring you back and keep you from getting hurt." A chilly gust of wind lifter his hair and sent a shower of golden leaves glimmering down around him. He spred out his arms, letting them fall into his hands. He looked like a dark angel in an eternal autumn wood. "Did you know you get one happy day for everyone you catch?" I didn't know what he meant, even after he opened his fist to show me the quivering leaves crumpled in his palm. One happy day for every falling leaf you catch." Sam's voice was low. I watched the egdes of the leaves slowly unfold, fluttering in the breeze."How long did you wait?" It would have been romantic if hr'd had the courage to look into my face to say it, but instead, he dropped his eyes to the ground and scuffed his boots in the leaves- countless possibilities for happy days- on the ground. "I haven't stopped." And I should've said something romantic too, but i didn't have the courage, either. So instead, I watched the shy way he was chewing his lip and studying the leaves, and said, "That must've been very borring.

The wish of peeking at women showering is also a kind of romance.

The beauty with modest smile, whose secrecy of silent love had just been stolen, beamed at this wonderful offer and she replenished herself with his love as a carefree child cossetted with luxurious warmth after a cold shower.

After hearing the boy scream, the cats formed their pyramid in front of the glass door. Belle turned the handle while Harry and the others pushed the door open. They scrambled in and searched the room and small bathroom and shower. Bombarded with the boy’s scent, the cats continued to search. He had to be somewhere. A knock on the door startled the animals. Belle ran to the door and sniffed. “Food,” she whispered. “Must be for the boy.” “We must find that boy,” Harry said. “If the human enters, they will find us. Quickly, everyone, show time!” One-by-one, the cats crawled under the bed sheet and maneuvered between the opened books. “Just as in The Catman’s act,” Curry said, trying not to snicker. “Hush!” Belle scolded. Two moved upward, two downward, two to the right, and three to the left. Belle and Harry crouched in the middle. Allie crawled to the pillow and poked out her back and head. With her ears lowered, only her straggling black hair could be seen.

She grinned as she started across the carpet toward the bathroom... "I have been dreaming about that shower." "This is going to be the dirtiest shower you've ever had." "It better freaking be," she tossed over her shoulder.

The water was lapping around my waist by the time Ivy and Gabriel found me. I was shivering, but I hardly noticed. I didn't move or speak, not even when Gabriel lifted me out of the water and carried me back to our house. Ivy helped me into the shower, and came to help me out half an hour later when I'd forgotten where I was and just stood under the pounding water. Gabriel bought me some dinner, but I couldn't eat it. I sat on my bed, staring into space and doing nothing but thinking of Xavier and trying not to think of him at the same time. The separation made me realize just how safe I felt with him. I craved his touch, his smell, even the awareness that he was nearby. But now he felt miles away, and I couldn't reach him, and that knowledge made me feel ready to crumble, to cease to exist.

In my family nudity just doesn’t exist; I’m pretty sure my parents were both born fully clothed and still shower that way.

We made love and then made love again and then after we had made love once more, quiet and dark and unspeaking and unthinking and then like a shower of meteors on a cold night, we went to sleep.

SPENCER @TheSpencerRyan I took a hot shower this morning. It’s like a regular shower, but it had me in it.

The perfect comeback only comes to you way after the offending incident, most especially when you’re alone in the shower with no one but the shampoo bottle to tell it to.

Once inside I stripped off my clothes and showered. Refreshed, I pick up my phone and type. ME: I want you. Come over now if you feel the same way. I held my breath as a I waited for a response but after several minutes none came. Maybe he wasn't going to come.

You said you’d buy me what I need for my shower.” “I never said it’d be today. I ain’t Amazon Prime.

You told him that you love him. Now cum all over my fingers whilst he showers next door, completely unaware about what a cheating whore his girlfriend is.

I really felt amazing overall---other than a few minutes ago in the shower. Pushing the thought from my mind, I focused on the positives. My senses were heightened now, like I'd been bitten by Peter Parker's radioactive spider. Only the guy who bit me was a mutated green beret. And instead of making me into a superhero, he'd doomed me to die of a brain hemorrhage.

Please note, doing it against a wall, not as easy as it’s written. There’s a lot of fumbling involved. Also, shower sex equals awkward as hell, especially when the shower head starts to drown you. Sex doggy style while lying over a couch, exhilarating, but watch out for queefing.

There is nothing amiss with a little romance. In fact the romantic eye beholds its presence in all things; in a sunset, sun-shower, a child’s laughter, or tears. Everywhere one looks, romance abounds.

The bathroom’s down the hall if you want to take off your tights. I can throw ‘em in the dryer for you if you want. Or, you can hang them on the shower curtain rod.” He turned. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a woman’s tights draped over my rod.” A quick wink and he was gone before she could do anything more than gape.

You smell like you showered in gingerbread," he said, his breath warming her ear. "Bite me," she croaked. His low laugh ruffled her hair. "I might just do that. I really, really like gingerbread." At that moment, so did Madison.

I can't stand how much like my dreams you smell; it's torture. You are torture. You wear metal on your skin like you're made of it, and it bites at me every time you're around. No matter how many showers I take, I smell your scent on me, on this ship, while I'm trying to sleep. I don't understand it, and can't stand it. I can't stand how I want you so badly and don't at the same time, because you're what I've been looking for, and I don't know what it means to have found it.

His ears caught a sweet chiming noise, and a moment later a warm rush fell over his body. How we doing Rhage? Too hot? Butch's voice. Up close. The cop was in the shower with him. And he smelled Turkish tobacco. V must be in the bathroom too. Hollywood? This too hot for you? No. He reached around for the soap, fumbling. Can't see. Just as well. No reason for you to know what we look naked together. Frankly, I'm traumatized enough for the both of us. Rhage smiled a little as a washcloth scrubbed over his face, neck and chest.

She could only sit and stare at the man she'd once thought the world would be better off without.What would have happened had someone chosen to love him as a child despite his behavior or showered him with the prayers she'd thought he didn't deserve? She couldn't imagine he'd have turned out better, but he'd probably have less guilt and shame to deal with, and fewer people would have been hurt. A Chance at Forever Melissa Jagears

So that's that, then. You don't want me." "Oh, I want you. Never doubt that. But now isn't the right time. So I'm going to turn around, walk through that door" -his mouth twitches in the corner- "and pretend to sleep while replaying that kiss until I give up and drown myself in a cold shower.

From the day I met her, life has not stayed the same. It feels as if the air crackles each time when I see her. And when she smiles at me, I feel as if the clouds are showering rose petals on her and me. And when she comes closer to me then my heart bursts inside my chest with a plethora of unknown emotions and feelings.

Maybe I better shower with you.” She bit her lower lip. “For safety’s sake.

She never thought she'd be into sex that was so overwhelming and desperate, but after that night on the dining room table she started eyeing his furniture in a whole new way. Would he take her on the couch in the formal living room? Or how about the kitchen counter? Maybe his wonderful shower with no less than three showerheads? It made her hot all over just thinking about it.

White undershirt. Dark-framed glasses. Sneak peeks at black boxers. Really? How much more was a girl supposed to be able to take before she either spontaneously combusted or found a shower with a removable showerhead?

Mommy, how come Dona Duck don have no pants?” Will sat on the couch eating cookies. Bree looked up. Then she glanced at the Donald Duck cartoon on the TV. “He have top but he no have bottoms,” “Good point,” she said. And yet the duck always wore a towel after he showered. “Dat’s odd,” Will remarked. He leaned over his plate and began to split his cookies into two piles. “And where his pee pee go? He a boy right, mommy? But he don’ have no pee pee. How he go to bafroom?

You need to understand something, Krissy,” he began, taking careful steps towards me. “Whenever I drop the words ‘gonna shower’, it means, we’re gonna shower. I expect to see you sliding the doors open and stepping in under that shower with me, no more than a minute later. Aroused, eager, and impatient to be fucked under the spraying shower and against the tiles.” When he reached me, he took the cup of coffee still suspended mid-air from my hand and set it down on the table. Then he bent and slid one arm beneath my thighs, the other around my waist, and lifted my inert body up off the chair. “If I don’t want you to join me, I won’t tell you I’m gonna shower. ’Cause, then, what would be the fucking point?

You know, we can still put that suit to use, though.” I glanced toward the truck and Lock’s face lit up as I closed the distance between us. “What happened to needing a shower?” “Showers are overrated,” I whispered, holding his gaze through the visor. “Plus,” I turned my head to look down the hall, “Jay is down there now.” “That’d be right. Let me just hang up my hat.” He was pulling away when I caught his wrist. “Nuh-uh. Keep the helmet. I want to be with my firefighter.

I seem to have forgotten my towel," she said, feeling heat everywhere. I'm a fool. He stepped forward, meeting her gaze. "I seem to have forgotten my name," he said, licking his lips. "Maybe we could both get in the shower and you could scream it for me.

She slapped his shoulder. "You... you go down to breakfast, Gram. I'll be there as soon as I shower and dress." "Have you been exercising? You sound out of breath." Creighton buried his face in a pillow, his body shaking with laughter. Gram knocked on the door. "Do you have a man in there with you?" "No, Gram..." He pushed himself off the pillow and sat, his large hands sweeping dark hair away from his face. "Aye, she bloody well does." Clapping sounded from the other side of the door followed by Gram's bellowing "Born to be Wild.

I’ll take a shower.” “Want company?” “Enough, Blake.” Ayden stood and backhanded the big guy’s chest. “Just trying to do my Hexy Knight duty. How about we carpool tomorrow, babe? You could sit on my lap. I make a great seat belt.” “Shut up, Blake,” Ayden and I said in unison.

Even though it has always been one-sided, sometimes it’s fun to just have someone to shower your feelings on. Someone who becomes the highlight of your day. They make you feel happy and silly. It’s hard. It’s very hard to let go of a big, stinking, painful, all-consuming crush. — Arya Kashyap

Romance can be as simple as leaving a note on the refrigerator that says “I love you” or giving an unexpected hug. It can include heroic gestures like helping your partner do his taxes or scouring the tile in her skanky-looking shower or taking a whole day to organize a lover’s Nightmare-on-Elm-Street closet.

She was without a question the most beautiful woman he'd ever set eyes on, and the moment she'd bowled into him a week ago, he'd been sunk. Pewter? Or lead. As in, the lead shot of a weapon ready to blow him out of the water. See, even now she was hissing like a lit fuse, sparks showering from her whatever-color eyes.

At the break of dawn I wake up mesmerized to the vision of you walking towards me Fresh out of the shower shirtless, with wet hair and in your unbuttoned jeans I ache for a kiss as I put away the cigarette hanging loosely on your lips And in the moment when your lips touch mine I realize there is no way I am making it out of these sheets or Paris

The way you philosophize life, With those beer tins in your hand, Lady, such a poetry you are when you are drunk, And those cigarettes in between your pretty fingers, You look so very graceful when you are smoking, So very beautiful in the haze, Like some medieval artwork, So worthy to be on canvas… I just love to watch you struggle in bed, Fighting the sunlight with your pillow, And in all the glory of your Sunday morning hangover, Innocence oozes out of your drunken face, And Oh my Godless lady it’s time for your, Lemonades, Novocain and hour long shower in silence. I know it’s crazy to believe in silly things, But you look so very pure when you suffer from your addictions… --- Her Cigarettes And Beers

The Romans and Greeks believed that the appearance of comets, meteors, and meteor showers was portentous. They were signs that something good or bad had happened... or was about to happen. For me, that was the moment I fell in love with Xuan. That was the promise of a future filled with love... and beauty... and brilliance. That future began and ended with Xuan.

And then I saw it. The mirror fogged over as I squinted at my reflection, and I scrubbed it with the heel of my palm. My skin squeaked against the glass, I turned my head to the side. I peered at my reflection from the corner of my eye. Toothmarks. Jesus. "You left a bite mark on my neck!" Jacob opened the shower curtain just far enough to look out at me. He knuckled water out of his eyes and grinned at me. "Good thing you don't have to woke tomorrow." "You shit." He grinned wider and whisked the curtain shut. Way to go. I'd look real slick reporting for duty at the Fifth Precinct covered in hickeys like a slutty teenaged girl. Damn it. I rubbed at the toothmarks, which raised a pinkish blotch around them. "It better be gone by Thursday," I said. I'm sure Jacob felt very chastised. Not.

Will walked into the bathroom while Lauren cowered, turned a circle in the small bathroom, and announced, “I don’t see anything.” “No, no, no.” She crept in, and pointed a shaking finger. “It was on the wall of the shower. It was right there, Will. It was huge!” “Huge?” “It had fur. It was the size of a small dog.” Will let out a laugh, then stopped, held up both hands as if to say ‘sorry.’ “I take it you don’t like spiders?

Speaking of your eyeballs, dear brother,I overheard some girls talking about you in the restroom at the tournament hotel. Apparently rumor now has it that you won’t allow anyone to see your eyes—ever. In fact, according to this knowledgeable source, you even sleep and shower with your glasses on in case someone unexpectedly walks in...one of them said she’d seen your eyes for herself two years ago and could only describe them as 'ferocious and roving,’ and ‘burning white-hot with a primal, raw wildness.

My eye slipped past your supple face, My hand missed all your subtle grace, My mind ignored your sumpt’us thoughts, But my heart, oh, it missed you naught. For though it have no sight nor voice, To my heart there was but one choice. My brain may dream of castles in the sky, My eyes flitter to glints of a magpie, My ears caress songs beyond the sea, But my heart, sweet heart, belongs only to thee. Time that it needs to grow strong, To whisper in my ear, to find the song, To shower my eyes with what is true, To tell my mind it’s always been you.

I needed this cold shower for more than one reason; the sexy male from my dream this morning returned during my little siesta. His sultry baritone was still fresh in my mind as I waited for the water to heat up. My Gaelic may have been a bit rusty, but from what I could understand, he had planned quite the erotic encounter under a sacred willow tree. I wasn’t sure I understood the reason for the tree, but he was quite adamant about it. Hey – tree or no tree, when he spoke and kissed my neck, I would have found a way to steal the Eiffel Tower if he had asked.

He broke away a little to murmur, ‘You’re sure about this?’ ‘I need to feel alive, Mac,’ said Simone ‘I have to know it . . . I don’t need flowers . . . I don’t need dinner . . . I don’t need romance . . . I need fucked.’ The word had an electric effect on Macandrew, who despite now wanting Simone so badly, still had reservations about the situation – mainly the fear that he was taking advantage of it. He felt the last of them wash away as she uttered the word. He pinned her to the wall and freed himself before reaching under her skirt to push her panties to one side and enter her hard and long. He cupped his hands round her backside and pulled her on to him, matching the thrust of his hips and being exhorted to ever greater efforts by Simone’s moans in his ear. ‘Christ, I want you,’ he gasped. ‘Then have me . . .’ The all too brief outcome of such passion left Macandrew holding Simone to him and resting his forehead on the wall as his breathing subsided. Simone broke the silence. ‘Tell me how you feel?’ she murmured. ‘After a moment’s thought, Macandrew said, ‘Embarrassed. Dare I ask about you?’ ‘Fucked,’ replied Simone. Macandrew smiled, feeling such a surge of relief when he saw that Simone was smiling too. She ran the tips of her fingers softly down his cheek. ‘Let’s go shower,’ she said. Showering together was as gentle an experience as their love-making had been passionate. They took lingering pleasure in tracing the contours of each other with soap and sponge and found it deliciously sensual. ‘Do you know what I’m going to do now?’ murmured Simone. ‘Tell me,’ said Macandrew drowsily as he closed his eyes and put his head back on the shower wall. Simone reached up and yanked the regulator over to COLD, causing Macandrew to let out a yelp of surprise. ‘Make an omelette,’ she said.

Oh. I get it." Abby laughed. "This is where you bid on someone to wash your car." "Naked," Charli said. "Or check the shower tiles." "Also naked." Abby laughed. "I'm guessing that as long as there's wet and naked, we're all good." Fiona let out a long sigh. "What was that?" Charli asked with a lift to her perfect brows. "Have you got a victim---I mean a participant in mind?" Fiona glanced across the hall. "Have you seen Jackson's fireman buddy?" "No." Charli looked across the room. "Should we?" "Too late," Fiona said. "I've got first dibs." At that moment, Abby noticed the Wilder boys walk across the front of the room near the stage. Individually, they were stunning. As a group, they looked as appetizing as a decadent box of chocolates. Abby couldn't tear her eyes away from Jackson. Put him in a fireman suit, a tux jacket and jeans, or a simple T-shirt and cargo shorts, and he took her breath away. Truthfully, she liked him best in noting at all. "Holy guacamole." Charli gestured to a tall, dark, and devastating man walking with the group. "Is that who you are talking about?" Fiona nodded. "I want to lick him up one side and down the other like a cherry Popsicle." "Honey, you bid as high as you can go," Charli said. "And if you run out of money, you just let me know. I'd be happy to chip in.

She glanced at the bathroom door once more, her cheeks growing warm as the glass door slid open and Kane emerged from the steamy shower stall. Naked. She swallowed, unable to tear her eyes away from his nude, dripping-wet body. He had the kind of rock-hard physique that would make other women drool. His broad chest tapered to a trim waist, and his legs were thick and dusted with golden hair. He was lean, not bulky, with perfectly sculpted muscles that looked like they'd been carved out of marble. He was hard. Everywhere. "I'm afraid it's too late for you to join me in the shower," he said in a silky voice. "Though we could still make good use of the bed.

She began peeling off her pants. Whatever Arthur's concerns, she was safe and in one piece. One very sexy, beautiful piece. Heat flared through the bond and she sucked in a breath. "Planning on taking a shower?" I approached slowly, my face revealing every intimate thought on my mind. "I---yes." Her exhaustion was lifting, replaced with a knowing smile. "Is that a problem?" "Not at all." I closed the distance between us, removing my shirt. "In fact, I might just need a shower myself." "Do you want to go first?" she teased. "I'm in no hurry." "No, no, I won't delay your shower." I wrapped my arms around her, unfastening her bra. "Why don't we take one together?" A playful smile crossed her lips. "I don't know, that seems terribly inefficient." "Nonsense." I helped her remove her bra and then slipped the panties down her legs. "I will show you just how efficient I can be." She moved a hand to my chest, catching her lower lip with her teeth. "Well, you can't shower in your suit." She leaned up to kiss me, her fingers working on my buttons as I laughed against her mouth. "Eager?" "Shut up." I scooped her off her feet as her laughter carried through to the bathroom, where I planned to assist her in a very slow and inefficient shower.

In a moment of sheer recklessness, I melt against him and let him do what I wanted him to the second I saw him fresh out of the shower. The beer bottle slips from my fingers and crashes to the floor, but he doesn’t seem to care as he presses his mouth against mine. His whiskers rough against my skin, his hands around my waist, pleasure rushes around my body as he pushes me against the counter. Our tongues dance together until I’m moaning and running my hands through his still damp hair. He pulls back, his breathing ragged. “I can’t be doing this,” he says. Since that’s pretty much what I was thinking I find myself agreeing. “It’s a bad idea.” His breathing is rapid as his hands trail down until they’re resting on my ass. He stares at me, unmoving, as if he can’t decide whether to stay or to go. With my pulse speeding and my body starting to tremble with need, I trail my hands down his muscled arms. He feels so good, so strong, and I’m enjoying it way too much to stop at one kiss. “You aren’t moving,” I whisper. A flash of amusement crosses his face. “Neither are you.” We stare at each other, electricity surging between us until I stop caring about whether this is a bad idea. He runs his hand up my spine, sending shivers through my body. His voice comes out rough as he pulls me closer. “A bad, bad, idea,” he says. ​But when he kisses me again, and my skin ignites, my body seems to decide this is a very, very good idea.

In the days leading up to Valentine’s Day, in addition to the daily letter I also made sure to send her a Valentine’s card and a different bar of chocolate. I was buying really nice bars of chocolate, all different flavors and kinds. She was only allowed to eat them right there at mail call, and sometimes she would get several packages at once, so even though it was hard to do, she’d share bites of her chocolate with other people. I also made sure to give extra thought to the regular, daily letter that would arrive on Valentine’s Day: Jamie, In the beginning of our relationship I criticized your expectations in a boyfriend. I told you that you watched too many movies and lived in a fantasy world. In a way I was asking you to settle. Even through our arguments about what was realistic and what was a fairy tale, I did everything I could to be your prince in a world where I saw you as the princess that you are. I was wrong to ever question you. Your standards never dropped and it forced me to rise up to the level needed to keep you. Like a storybook romance, I’ve defended your honor, showered you with love, worshipped the ground you walk on, and will faithfully wait for you while you’re away. You have made me a better man. Because of you I live a life I am proud of and have become the father, brother, son, and friend my family deserves. Your love has positively affected every aspect of my life. And for that I could never repay you. But I will happily be forever yours, paying off my debt and love for years to come. Like your favorite movie, Beauty and the Beast, a tale as old as time, we are living proof that fantasy can be reality. Love always and forever, Noah I’d never been that outwardly romantic before. I’d never worn my feelings on my sleeve quite like I did with her.

And slamming the door in Meg's face, Aunt March drove off in high dudgeon. She seemed to take all the girl's courage with her, for when left alone, Meg stood for a moment, undecided whether to laugh or cry. Before she could make up her mind, she was taken possession of by Mr. Brooke, who said all in one breath, "I couldn't help hearing, Meg. Thank you for defending me, and Aunt March for proving that you do care for me a little bit." "I didn't know how much till she abused you," began Meg. "And I needn't go away, but my stay and be happy, may I, dear?" Here was another fine chance to make the crushing speech and the stately exit, but Meg never thought of doing either, and disgraced herself forever in Jo's eyes by meekly whispering, "Yes, John," and hiding her face on Mr. Brooke's waistcoat. Fifteen minutes after Aunt March's departure, Jo came softly downstairs, paused an instant at the parlor door, and hearing no sound within, nodded and smiled with a satisfied expression, saying to herself, "She has seen him away as we planned, and that affair is settled. I'll go and hear the fun, and have a good laugh over it." But poor Jo never got her laugh, for she was transfixed upon the threshold by a spectacle which held her there, staring with her mouth nearly as wide open as her eyes. Going in to exult over a fallen enemy and to praise a strong-minded sister for the banishment of an objectionable lover, it certainly was a shock to behold the aforesaid enemy serenely sitting on the sofa, with the strong-minded sister enthroned upon his knee and wearing an expression of the most abject submission. Jo gave a sort of gasp, as if a cold shower bath had suddenly fallen upon her, for such an unexpected turning of the tables actually took her breath away. At the odd sound the lovers turned and saw her. Meg jumped up, looking both proud and shy, but `that man', as Jo called him, actually laughed and said coolly, as he kissed the astonished newcomer, "Sister Jo, congratulate us!" That was adding insult to injury, it was altogether too much, and making some wild demonstration with her hands, Jo vanished without a word. Rushing upstairs, she startled the invalids by exclaiming tragically as she burst into the room, "Oh, do somebody go down quick! John Brooke is acting dreadfully, and Meg likes it!

#1 of 2 Leah munched another chip as she watched a couple on-screen race madly away from men with guns who were intent on killing them. She and Seth sat shoulder to shoulder on the sofa, both slumped down until they were practically lying on their backs. Seth had pulled the matching ottoman up against the sofa, so it really did feel as if they were lying in bed together, watching a movie. She slid him a covert glance. He had donned black cargo pants and a black T-shirt after his shower but had left his big feet bare. He had also left his hair loose. It now spilled over the back of the sofa in a glossy curtain, the thick wavy tresses still drying. He chuckled at something the male protagonist said. Leah smiled. She loved seeing him laugh. She didn’t think he did so as often as he should. Every once in a while, she noticed his gaze would slide to her legs. Her feet were propped on the ottoman close to his. The robe she had borrowed had parted just above her knees and fallen back, leaving most of her legs bare. And that pale flesh repeatedly drew Seth’s attention. She held the bag of chips out to him. Smiling, unaware that the faint golden light of desire illuminated his eyes, he poked his hand in and drew out a couple of chips. She smiled back, then returned her attention to the screen. The protagonists had at last made it to safety. They checked each other over for wounds, something both had miraculously escaped incurring in true Hollywood fashion. Then they fell into each other’s arms, finally giving in to the lust that had sparked between them ever since their first contentious meeting. Leah sighed as she watched them peel each other’s clothes off with eager hands. It made her want to do the same with Seth. Her body even began to respond as her imagination kicked in. “I miss sex.” The words were out of her mouth before she could question the wisdom of speaking them. “I do, too,” Seth confessed. She glanced over at him and found his eyes glued to the screen. More so since I met you. Her eyes widened when his voice sounded in her head. “Really?” “Yes.” The actors on-screen fell naked onto the bed and began to simulate sex, their moans and groans and cries of passion filling the room. “It’s natural to miss it,” he said matter-of-factly. “Nothing to feel guilty about.” “No. I mean, you really miss it more since you met me?” He froze. A look of dismay crossed his features as he cut her a glance. “I said that out loud?” “No. I heard it in my head.” Sh**. She grinned. “I heard that, too.” F**k.

In the morning, as we're enjoying a shower together, Cash asks Mikey how long he's been working here. "Since I was fourteen." "How OLD are you now?" "Eighteen." "Nice. Are there any other hot guys working here besides you?" "I'm not a prostitute. I'm a ranch hand." "Sorry- I didn't mean-" "It's okay." As they kiss and make up, I inform Cash that I was Mikey's first. "Really?" Cash laughed. "You were?" "Yeah-" Mikey answered. "He was." "I was his birthday present last month..." Cash laughed, "How much did that set you back-?

I think our next book should have some more spice in it,” Edna said. “I like those scenes with the hot stud who gets steamy with the busty girl next door. This book didn’t have any shower scenes or mention a single ‘throbbing member’.” “Yeah, well, I haven’t seen a ‘throbbing member’ in so long that I forgot what they look like,

In exacting detail, the suit portrayed O’Reilly as a hypersexualized misogynist with a romance novelist’s imagination. In one infamous exchange, O’Reilly described taking Mackris on a Caribbean sexcapade. “You would basically be in the shower and then I would come in and I’d join you and you would have your back to me and I would take that little loofa thing and kinda’ soap up your back … rub it all over you, get you to relax.… So anyway I’d be rubbing your big boobs and getting your nipples really hard, kinda’ kissing your neck from behind … and then I would take the other hand with the falafel [sic] thing and I’d put it on your pussy but you’d have to do it really light, just kind of a tease business …

I felt him closing in on me. My insides twisted and my cheeks grew warmer with his approach as if I could feel the warmth of his shower radiating off him. "All of a sudden, you're quiet and shy? You're not your usual pain in the ass self. I know you came here for a reason. What did you want to yell at me for this time?" he stopped just a few feet from me. "Do you think you could put a shirt on? This is a business call, not the typical company you keep," I felt like I was chastising my shoes.

I thought that was my room," she said, gesturing behind him. "It is." "And my shower." He sniffed with irritation. "I have a bathtub." "And that's a problem?" "I don't do bathtubs, Miss Burel." His eyebrow lifted. "Unless I have company.

Those gray eyes slid back to her. “Your shower big enough for two?” “Yes, but the cats don’t like to get wet. Neither does the guinea pig. But you might have some success with the lizard.” Bad, bad move. Because both corners of his mouth were getting in on the smile action. He moved them one at a time, first the right corner, then a slow follow from the left corner. And then he showed his dimple.

I've got a hot shower and an even hotter bed only ten minutes from here." "Hotter bed?" "It's got a heater in it." She narrowed her eyes. "It does not." "Hand to heaven," he said. She narrowed her eyes. "Does this 'heater' run on electricity?" "Nope.

The feeling, all encompassing, safe and warm like a blanket permanently draped over her shoulders, follows her around. She takes it into the shower, to meals with her mother and sister, to work as she reads out the news script, her voice never faltering.

She dropped a withering glance at his crotch. "and you might want to take a cold shower. Looks like your budgie`s trying to escape". Twenty minutes after taking Piper´s advice and showering under a shrinkage-guaranteed temperature, West strolled into The Great Flat White café.

After dunking his thoughts in a quick cold shower, he got his mind back on track.

And now,” he said, “You’re all sticky. You really need a shower. I happen to have a shower.” “You do?” her voice rose in a squeak. “Yes, I do. And if you’re wondering if that was just a transparent excuse to get your clothes off, then yes, it was. Because I really want to fuck you. I’m sorry, was that too crude?’               “Oh, no.” Her voice was faint, and her heart hammered against her chest. “Not at all. It’s just crude enough.

Romance [10w] Chat her up. Bring her Flowers. Golden showers. Zipper up.

Before I met him, I would hum and dance in the shower. When I fell in love with him, I would fantasize about him while taking a shower. When he left, I would hide my tears in the shower.

We rested our tired spines on your terrace waiting for stars to show up and fix our broken constellations, for the moon to be whole, for a meteor shower, for the northern lights I stayed up staring at the sky every night before falling asleep, before sunrise and you were gone before my eyes were hit by dawn You were so wrong so, so wrong for me I know that deeply But poetically, if you know what I mean Poetically, so right

And you know you are not the first, To bite into her dimples, And sleep in her eyes, Whisper in her ears long deep into the nights, But does that even matter? And you know you are not the first, Who had the honour of wiping her tears, And sucking on her finger tips gently, And taking her to bed like a child in arms, But does that even matter? And you know you are not the first, Worthy of her warm hugs on winter nights, And you know that you are not the first, She shared her kisses and coffees, Chocolates and love candles, shower and bed with. But does that even matter? Now that you have the chance of a lifetime, To be her gardner, To be her farmer, To resurrect the fallen princess again… And you know you are not the first, She gave her heart. But does that even matter? How you wish you would be the last, To stay forever in her arms, Or die waiting for that moment… --- You know You Are Not Her First

She smiled coquettishly and said "Sailor Man, you're the cloud that showers love!" But I was a love pirate I thought to myself. She would chase me while I sail on to another shore!

I, Daniel McKenna, promise to love, hold, honor, and cherish you. And always say yes to shower sex.” His voice was a deep rumble, laced with threads of amusement. “There will always be room in my bed for you and only you, as long as you shut the fuck up and go to sleep.

Kayla froze and looked at her neighbor’s fence. A low masculine chuckle floated on the night, doing funny things to her insides. Grass crunched as footsteps approached the five-foot fence. When a handsome face appeared above it, butterflies filled her belly. Nick Belanger smiled at her, his brown eyes glinting with amusement in the ambient illumination cast by the floodlights. “Everything okay?” Straightening, she returned his smile and held up the snail. “Yes. Just stopping this little bugger. He and his buddies keep devouring my pepper plants.” He grinned. Damn, he was handsome. Not in a pretty-boy way, but in a ruggedly masculine way. His short black hair was slicked back from his face, still wet from a recent shower. His strong jaw bore a five-o’clock shadow. His straight white teeth provided sharp contrast to the dark stubble that coated his cheeks. She’d been attracted to him ever since she had moved next door to him six years ago.

My anger was on a rise, when suddenly her eyelids fell. Her lips flexed and again relaxed to shower me with a smile that calmed me down in seconds.

You sing?” she asked. “Mostly in the shower.” “Then I should’ve had my ear to the bathroom door when you were in there.” He pinched the beads at the end of the tie on her blouse, and rolled them between his fingertips. “You should’ve been in there with me.

Femi turned around as he heard the door swing open. Chioma appeared in a white thick towel tied around her sexy body, from above her small and well-rounded breasts. Her artificial hair took refuge under a transparent shower cap. Even with a washed-up makeup-free face, her beauty radiated and penetrated every inch of the tastelessly furnished room. Tension traveled across the floor that separated the pair as they stared hard and awkwardly at each other’s sexy figure. After a momentary loss of consciousness, the two were brought back to their senses. ‘You need to turn around so I can get dressed,’ she purred. As a gentleman would, Femi, without any utterance, quickly turned away without nurturing a second thought. He stared through the window, again, at the police van parked outside. He tried to observe what was going on inside the van, but nothing. His attention was brought back to Chioma as he stared at her from the back of his eyes. He went into whirlwinds of impure thoughts. ‘Femi… Femi… Femi!’ He was brought back to his senses as Chioma repeatedly called out his name. He slowly trained his sight upon Chioma who was dressed in a sexy, semi-transparent, cream nightgown that revealed shades of her nakedness. The nipples of her erect boobies were stiff and swollen. The gown terminated far above her knees, exposing her succulent fresh thighs. Femi’s heart began to race fast. He cleared his throat and quickly caught his breath. ‘Where do I sleep?’ Chioma asked in a half-sexy voice. ‘You have the bed. I’ll have the rug,’ Femi proposed. ‘Are you going to be comfortable sleeping on the rug? We can sleep on the bed together as long as you promise to remain on your side of the bed.’ Femi considered the very tempting offer, but summoned the strength to turn it down. ‘Don’t worry about me. I will be comfortable on the rug. I sometimes sleep on the rug when I’m alone.’ Chioma slipped into the bed in her nightgown and camisole, while Femi strolled to the light switch fastened to the wall.

She hit a new low in mid-July when she took up with Dodi Fayed, the son of Egyptian tycoon Mohamed Fayed, who had been repeatedly denied British citizenship by the U.K. government. Mohamed Fayed had befriended Diana as a generous benefactor of several of her charities. He appealed to her, according to Andrew Neil, a sometime consultant for Fayed, “by cultivating the idea that both were outsiders and had the same enemies.” Diana met Dodi while she and her sons were staying at the ten-acre Fayed estate in Saint-Tropez. At age forty-two, Dodi was a classic case of arrested development: spoiled, ill-educated, unemployed, rootless, and irresponsible, with a taste for cocaine and fast cars. He showered Diana with extravagant gifts, including an $11,000 gold Cartier Panther watch, and sybaritic trips on his father’s plane and yachts. From the moment the story of their romance broke on August 7, the tabloids covered the couple’s every move with suggestive photographs and lurid prose. William and Harry, who were at Balmoral with their father, mistrusted Dodi, and they were embarrassed by their mother’s exhibitionistic behavior.

Her gaze dropped to the zipper of his shorts, still sporting a significant bulge. “Think you can deal with that thing all by yourself?” “I think I can manage after twenty six years.” She lifted her chin in the direction of the Ziggurat tiling. “Cold shower?” “That’s one option. Although I do have an awesome new fantasy for my spank bank. It’d be a shame to waste it.” The thought of Ryder jacking off while he thought of her was wildly exciting. She’d love to be a fly on the wall for that. Or... “True. On the other hand you could not do anything about it. And I...a real live woman could help you out with it tomorrow night after poker. Think how much more intense it will be after you’ve denied yourself for a while.” The bob of his throat was visible from across the room. “Denial sucks.” “True. But I could make it worth your while.” He sighed. “If it doesn’t kill me first.

He took it off, and she could see his hair was damp with sweat, as was his shirt on closer inspection. He mustn’t have bothered showering after his training session. Juliet’s belly tightened. There was just something about a sweaty man that had always done it for her. Good sweaty. Not the festering-for-hours-never-worn-deodorant kind. The healthy kind worked up through hard physical labour. The primal survival kind that attracted a woman to the type of man who could keep her in mammoth stew and furs. It clearly didn’t matter how sophisticated humans thought they were or how far they’d come. Hundreds of thousands of years of evolution and it still got down to how a man smelled. Mother Nature was one crazy bitch.

I didn't know what it was when I met you ... I felt that rush ... life returned to me again ... I was star struck ... happiness returned to my smile ... I glow like a morning sun ... I sing your name in the shower ... my day is filled with thoughts of you and I welcome each morning to the sound of your sweet voice... My perfect Devine

All he wanted was a long, hot shower and a long, deep sleep. Meaning that whoever this pissed-off brunette was, whatever deal she'd arranged with his flaky mother, they could talk about it after he'd scrubbed the jungle from his skin and rinsed the shampoo from his hair. "What do you mean it belongs to you? It can't belong to you. I just rented it," said the girl aiming that pink blow-dryer right at his heart. If he wasn't so damn exhausted, he might find that funny. She was holding the thing as if it would protect her. It was a blow-dryer! He nodded at it. "What do you plan to do with that thing, honey? Style me to death?

been sitting there showered him with irate

New sounds rustled through her anti-depressant haze; a gentle reverberation from the heart of the home... another creek... another thunk... rapid clicking like the wings of a broken cricket. Then, raindrops on metal... the escalating blare of a car horn... the scream of wet tires and the clink clink clink of showering glass.

She grappled his shoulder and pulled him closer; her nose in his neck and the memory-scent of her very first time; that sickly-sweet stench of day-old sweat and mall cologne... she wondered if he’d showered in the ten months since they last shared a bed.

A brand new pie is waiting for me each night after work, as if he knows he hit his stride and he is going to exploit that knowledge. Fudge pie, pumpkin, apple, pecan, chocolate, strawberry, rhubarb, lemon, peach... I go through a week of pies, then two. I dream about our pretty baby, and end up sobbing over Mama every time I take a shower. Why can't things be right? Like books or movies. Why can't things just ever, once, be right? That afternoon, I find the pinnacle of pies: a peanut butter Reese's one. I'm glad I've got a reason for the growing belly. Truthfully, I think it's mostly pie.

But the bad thing about a shower was unless you were singing, you were thinking, and I was through with thinking. So I sang as I scrubbed shampoo and conditioner into my hair. I hummed as I soaped up. Then I forced myself to get out.

Death has left its stains not just on my clothes, but on my skin and soul. The washing machine and the shower would take care of the first two, but the deeper taint on my conscience might never be washed away.

I need some mouthwash, perhaps a shower or twelve.

Why do people leave, Nayna? Why do they just leave? Why do they come into people’s lives if they have to leave? Why do they shower love if they cannot do it forever? Why do they ask for love if they do not know how to keep it secure? Why do they make promises that they do not intend to keep? Why do they even evoke love in you? Why do they say “for life” if they do not mean it?