欧宝娱乐

“I had a dream about you last night, for the millionth time! We did what we always do in my dreams. We talked, but we never made out. How come I still dream about you if we never freaking make out?”
― Crystal Hudson, Dreaming is for lovers

“Claire tipped her head back, and this time he found her lips. It was, she thought, supposed to be a fast and sweet little kiss, but somehow it slowed down, got warmer and deeper. His lips were damp and soft as silk, and that was such a contrast to the hard lines of his body pressed against her. The strength of his hands sliding around her waist and pulling her even closer. She heard him growl low in his throat, a wild and hungry sound that made her go weak and faint.
He broke the kiss and leaned against her, breathing hard. "Good morning to you too. Man, I just can't stay mad when you do that."
"Do what?" she asked innocently. She didn't feel innocent. She also didn't feel sixteen-nearly-seventeen, not at all. Shane always made her feel older. Much older. Ready for anything. It was a good thing Shane wasn't as dumb as her hormones seemed to be.
"Unless you want to stay home and cut class, we don't really have time to talk about it," he said, and waggled his eyebrows. "So. Wanna cut class and make out?”
― Rachel Caine, Midnight Alley

“One of his hands run up my neck and through my hair, the other supporting my waist. I'm held up by a dizzying suspension, feeling like I could sprout wings and fly. Time stands still and the only thing I can think about is the taste of his mouth, his tongue, spicy and sweet from the saffron, and how I hunger for more. His hand cups my ass, and he leans into me, kissing my neck. My hips grind into him. This kiss, this moment, really proves I'd never experienced passion like this before. It's more than a connection between bodies; it's like a recipe with the perfect balance of ingredients.”
― Samantha Verant, The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique

“She knew she should drop the subject, but something inside her wouldn't let go. She snapped her fingers, couldn't resist. "You could go as a moving man."
"Damn, woman." He was on her before she had a chance to step back. He slid his big hands into her hair, none too gently. Held her still. "What's with you? I've asked you nicely to stop. Let up or I'll---"
"What?" She moved beyond common sense.
He kissed her.
His punishment was sexual, unexpected, yet effective. He was all hotness, hardness, and sensual appeal. Sparked by anger, he bit her bottom lip. Sensation puckered her nipples. Her belly pulled tight. Her groin pressed his. Their thighs rubbed.
The kiss lasted. She had no desire for it to end. His firm mouth softened. He slipped his tongue between her lips with sexy finesse. The man could kiss. He made her want him.
Fully into him, she rose on tiptoe and clutched his biceps. His hands rubbed down her back, cupped her butt, and lifted her slightly, until they were sexually aligned.”
― Kate Angell, The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine

“There鈥檚 an order to these things,鈥� I explained. 鈥楩irst the kiss. Then he can grab your butt. Then your boobs. First over the T-shirt, then under. Then you can touch his thing. Then over the leggings. After a year you let him put his hand down your pants. And you haven鈥檛 even kissed yet.”
― Lana Basta拧i膰, Catch the Rabbit

“She wanted to climb him like a tree. Wanted to feel his hardness between her legs, giving her pleasure. She moaned in approval when he slipped a leg in between hers and rubbed against the spot desperate for attention. She was greedy, unashamed, uninhibited riding his thigh. Their tongues tangled together, sliding against each other in the same slow, determined rhythm as their lower body parts.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking