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“As he turned back to her, Cassandra stood on her toes to kiss him. He claimed his reward immediately, fitting his mouth to hers and taking a long, ardent taste. Her head swam, and she welcomed the exploration of his tongue. He savored and consumed her, with a kiss more aggressive than any he'd given her before. It made her knees weak and turned her bones fluid. Her body listed toward his and was instantly gathered into the hard urgency of his embrace. Desire curled through her in hot tendrils that insinuated themselves in deep, private places. Her throat caught on a whimper of protest as his mouth lifted from hers.
"We'd better start negotiating," he said raggedly. "The first issue is how much time you'll want to spend with me."
"All of it," Cassandra said, and sought his lips again.
Tom chuckled. "I would. I... oh, you're so sweet... no, I'm... God. It's time to stop. Really." He crushed his mouth against her hair to avoid her kisses. "You're about to be deflowered in the library."
"Didn't that already happen?" she asked, and felt the shape of his smile.
"No," he whispered, "you're still a virgin. Albeit slightly more experienced than two days ago." He brought his mouth closer to her ear. "Did you like what I did?"
She nodded, her face turning so hot that she could feel her cheeks throb. "I wanted more."
"I'd like to give you more. As soon as possible.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“There were no such stipulations made when we discussed the agreement."
"Nor were they expressly not made. I am making them now. You received what you requested. Or, have you forgotten?" The words sent a shiver down her spine. He was standing behind her, and she could feel the warm kiss of his breath on her bare neck, sending a river of heat through her.
"I have not forgotten." The words came unbidden, and she closed her eyes.
He laid a hand on her arm and, with virtually no pressure, turned her face to him. When he met her eyes, the anger that had been there was gone, replaced by something much more complex. "Neither have I. And not for lack of trying."
Before she could begin to consider the meaning behind his words, he settled his mouth upon hers, robbing her of thought.
"I've tried to forget that kiss... and the carriage ride... and the fencing club... but you seem to have taken up residence... in my memory."
As he spoke between long, drugging kisses that consumed her senses, he guided Callie across the study and into a large chair near the fireplace. Kneeling in front of her, he cupped one cheek in a strong, warm hand, and met her gaze with a searing look. Shaking his head as though he couldn't quite understand what had come over him, he kissed her again, growling low in the back of his throat. Her hands found their way into his thick, dark hair as he caught her bottom lip in his teeth, nibbling and licking at it until she thought she might perish from the intensity of the feeling. She whimpered at the sensation, and he rewarded the sound by deepening the kiss, giving her everything she desired.
He broke off the kiss as one of his hands found its way under her skirts, caressing up the inside of her leg. He shifted her against him, running his lips across her cheek to the curl of her ear, sucking and nibbling and licking as he spoke to her, the scandalous words more sensation than sound.
"Such soft skin..." he said, as his fingers played along the inside of her thighs, driving her mad with desire as heat pooled at their juncture. "I've been wondering what you felt like here..." He shifted to gain better access to the skin high on the inside of her thighs, so close to the spot where she most wanted him. "Now that I know... I'm going to be consumed with thoughts of how this soft, lovely skin will feel against me..." He placed a soft, lush kiss on the column of her neck as his hand moved higher, closer to the center of her.”
― Sarah MacLean, Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake

“Did they have all the ingredients for the seed cake, Miss Sophia? The caraway and rye, and the currants for the top?"
"Yes," Sophia replied as the cook-maid disappeared into the larder. "But we could find no red currants, and-"
Suddenly her words were smothered into silence as Sir Ross pulled her into his arms. His lips descended to hers in a kiss so tender and carnal that she could not help responding. Stunned, she struggled to retain her hatred of him, to remember the wrongs of the past, but his lips were utterly warm and compelling, and her thoughts scattered crazily. The pink rose dropped from her nerveless fingers. Sophia swayed against him, groping for his hard shoulders in a futile bid for balance. His tongue searched her mouth... delicious... sweetly intimate. Sophia inhaled sharply and tilted her head back in utter surrender, her entire existence distilled to this one burning moment.
Through the pounding heartbeat in her ears she dimly heard Eliza's concerned voice echoing from the larder. "No red currants? But what will we top the seed cake with?"
Sir Ross released Sophia's mouth, leaving her lips moist and kiss-softened. His face remained close to hers, and Sophia felt as if she were drowning in the silver pools of his eyes. His hand came to the side of her face, his fingers curving over her cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. Somehow Sophia managed to answer Eliza. "We f-found golden currants instead-"
As soon as the words left her mouth, Sir Ross kissed her again, his tongue exploring, teasing. Her groping fingers touched the back of his neck, where the thick black hair curled against his nape. Sensation rustled through her, spurring her pulse to an intemperate pace. Taking advantage of her surrender, he kissed her more aggressively, hunting for the deepest, sweetest taste of her. As her knees weakened, his arms wrapped securely around her, supporting her body as he continued to ravish her mouth.
"Golden currants?" came Eliza's dissatisfied voice. "Well, the flavor won't be quite the same, but they will be better than nothing."
Sir Ross released Sophia and steadied her with his hands at her waist. While she stared at him blankly, he gave her a brief smile and left the kitchen just as Eliza reemerged from the larder.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Lady Sophia's Lover

“I wanted to kiss you. I can't explain why. I have no excuses. At any rate, don't worry. It was clearly a mistake, and I promise it won't happen agai-"
Again.
He kissed her again.
Or rather, he kissed her for the first time- and he was so much better at it than she.
This kiss could not be mistaken for an accidental collision mouths. Oh, no. He kissed with purpose. His lips had ideas. His tongue had plans.
She closed her eyes and melted against him, flattening her hands on his muscled arms. He brushed his lips to hers in a series of chaste, yet masterful kisses. He swept a hand up her spine and into her hair, where he twisted and gathered the tangled locks in his fist. Then he tugged sharply, tipping her face to his and sending electric sensation over her every nerve.
When her mouth fell open in a gasp, he reclaimed her lips, sweeping his tongue between them. Her first instinct was to shy away, but Penny fought against it. She reached higher, lacing her arms about his neck and holding tight.
His tongue stroked hers, slow and insistent. He tasted of soot and salt and... and of apples, strangely. Tart, smoky, just a hint of sweet.
A lush, decadent pleasure unwound within her, snaking through her veins- as though it had lain coiled in anticipation for years. Waiting on this moment.
Waiting on this man.”
― Tessa Dare, The Wallflower Wager

“Their mouths crashed together. Tongues tangled. He kissed her as if he wanted to consume her, devour her alive. Fierce kisses, hard kisses, desperate, wanting kisses. He tasted like chocolate and smelled like sin.
"Sam..." She pulled away. "I can't breathe."
"Neither can I." Her wrapped his arms around her and drew her in for another hungry kiss. Hot, hard, and wet, melting her to the side of the Jeep. His tongue worked past her lips to plunge into her mouth, every stroke tugging at things low and deep in her belly.
Her hands moved to his chest, sliding over his pecs and the ripple of abs beneath his shirt. Harman was perfect but Sam was real, his body hard from his fight training, muscles thick from use. He hissed out a breath when her fingers grazed the top of his belt, his infamous self-control giving way to her curious hands.
"What are we doing?" he murmured as he drew her earlobe into his mouth, his five-o'clock shadow rough against her sensitive skin.
"I don't know, but don't stop."
"No chance of that." He shifted against her, his arousal as evident from his ragged breaths as the growing hardness pressed against her hips.
When he thrust a thick thigh between her legs, she rocked against him, reckless and wanton in her need for release. She was dying, burning, her body on fire. She'd never felt anything like the toxic combination of anger and lust that pounded through her veins. It made her head spin, drove logic away.”
― Sara Desai, The Marriage Game

“People gave up too soon on dreams and hope, but both were there, if you kept your eyes open. With that truth in mind, she returned to the world only to find her own eyes were so tear-filled, she might as well have been submerged fifty feet underwater. “Yes, I will marry you, John,â€� she heard herself say. “Of course, I will. You kidding me?â€� She laughed and wiped her eyes, no longer fifty feet underwater but skimming the surface of a great, churning sea. John reached up and kissed her, and they stayed like that for a minute, a month, a millennium.”
― Ray Smith, The Magnolia That Bloomed Unseen

“We won! We won!" Daisy jumped up and down and threw her arms around Liam, nearly knocking him over as she pressed her lips to his in a delighted kiss.
Her lips were soft and warm and sweet with chocolate. The shock of them short-circuited his brain and for a moment he couldn't breathe. And then he was pressing her lips apart, hungry for her, desperate for more.
She softened against him, sighed. He braced himself for her to retreat, but instead, she tightened her arms around him and kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his as she explored his mouth.
"Pizza!"
She pulled away, leaving him floundering, his brain struggling to understand why someone was shoving a box in his face when all he wanted was her sweet lips and her soft body and her sigh of surrender.
"Pizza selfie." Daisy held up her phone and took a picture of them with the pizza box angled in the corner. She laughed when she showed him the screen. This time he was the one who looked dazed.”
― Sara Desai, The Dating Plan

“His lips burned as they touched her own. She gave a little gasp under his mouth before being completely smothered by his fire.
He wanted her, she understood in amazement. And it was not the fact that she was capable of attracting a man which surprised her—for she well knew her own value—but that it was this particular man, who had already filled her with a tempestuous rage, was now capable of making her feel quite another way. Of unlocking her with his lips, making her feel like a quivering flame within a frail woman's body, smoldering with a burning desire she had not even known she was capable of possessing.”
― Fenna Edgewood

“She had known that he could move quickly. Still it was a shock when she found herself pressed against the back of her seat, his face inches from her.
"God's blood, woman, how much control do you think I have?" he whispered, his clove-scented breath brushing her face. "You must think me a saint by the way you harangue me despite my warnings. Listen and listen well: I am no saint."
"But I don't need a saint," she breathed, her voice trembling. "I don't want a saint. I want you."
"God forgive me," he snarled, and pulled her mouth to his.
His kiss wasn't gentle. He opened her lips with his tongue, invading her angrily. Passionately. How had she ever thought this man uninterested in bedding her?
His big, hot body pressed her against the seat and he scraped his teeth over her bottom lip.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Desire

“Miss Sydney, there is just one more thing."
Sophia paused before leaving. "Yes, sir?"
He reached for her, his hand sliding around the back of her neck. Sophia was too startled to move or breathe, her entire body stiffening as his head lowered to hers. He touched her only with his lips and with his hand at her nape, but she was as helpless as if she had been bound to him with iron chains.
There had been no time to prepare herself... she was defenseless and stunned, unable to withhold her response. At first his lips were gentle, exquisitely careful, as if he feared bruising her. Then he coaxed her to give him more, his mouth settling more firmly on hers. The taste of him, his intimate flavor laced with the hint of coffee, affected her like a drug. The tip of his tongue slid past her teeth in silken exploration. He tasted the interior of her mouth, stroked the slick insides of her cheeks. Anthony had never kissed her like this, feeding her rising passion as if he were layering kindling on a blaze. Devastated by his skill, Sophia swayed dizzily and clutched his hard neck.
Oh, if only he would hold her tightly and lock her full length against his... but he still touched her only with that one hand, and consumed her mouth with patient hunger. Sensing the force of his passion, held so securely in check, Sophia instinctively sought a way to release it. Her hands fluttered to the sides of his face, stroking the bristle of his cheeks and jaw.
Ross made a quiet sound in his throat. Suddenly he took hold of her shoulders and eased her away from his body, ignoring her whimpering protest. Sophia's gaze locked with his in a moment of searing wonder. The stillness was broken only by their panting breaths. No man had ever looked at Sophia that way, as if he could eat her with his gaze, as if he wanted to possess every inch of her body and every flicker of her soul. She was frightened by the power of her response to him, the unmentionable desires that shocked her.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Lady Sophia's Lover

“Drowning in guilt and fear and desire, she tried to push his caressing hand away from her throat. His fingers delved into her hair with a grip just short of painful. His mouth was close to hers. He was surrounding her, all the strength and force and maleness of him, and she closed her eyes as her senses went quiet and dark in helpless waiting. "I'll make you tell me," she heard him mutter.
And then she was kissing her.
Somehow, Beatrix thought hazily, Christopher seemed to be under the impression she would find his kisses so objectionable that she would confess anything to make him desist. She couldn't think how he had come by such a notion. In fact, she couldn't really think at all.
His mouth moved over hers in supple, intimate angles, until he found some perfect alignment that made her weak all over. She reached around his neck to keep from dropping bonelessly to the floor. Gathering her closer into the hard support of his body, he explored her slowly, the tip of his tongue stroking, tasting.
Her body listed more heavily against his as her limbs became weighted with pleasure. She sensed the moment when his anger was eclipsed by passion, desire changing to white-hot need. Her fingers sank into his beautiful hair, the shorn locks heavy and vibrant, his scalp hot against her palms. With each inhalation, she drew in more of his fragrance, the trace of sandalwood on warm male skin.
His mouth slid from hers and dragged roughly along her throat, crossing sensitive places that made her writhe. Blindly turning her face, she rubbed her lips against his ear. He drew in a sharp breath and jerked his head back. His hand came to her jaw, clamping firmly.
"Tell me what you know," he said, his breath searing her lips. "Or I'll do worse than this. I'll take you here and now. Is that what you want?"
As a matter of fact ...”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“And then she was hugging him, and his arms were around her, and she smelled of wildflowers and sunshine, and she was soft against his chest, but he hoped she would stop jumping because "highly aroused" wasn't a good look for him in a public place.
His lips found hers and he kissed her softly and thoroughly. When she trembled in his arms, returning his kiss with passion and abandon, a rush of something sweet and innocent flooded his senses. He'd kissed dozens of women and none had ever affected him this way. None had never tasted of sunshine. None had made him question what was real.”
― Sara Desai, The Dating Plan

“So, um...I don't really know what to say right now." I let out an embarrassed laugh.
The expression on Max's face melts from flustered to amused. And then he stands up, steps closer to me, cups his hand over my cheek, and presses a feathery kiss to my lips.
"I don't either, honestly," he says. "That was kind of..."
"Unexpected."
He nods once. "And fucking amazing."
"And hot."
"Definitely hot."
I nuzzle into his hand slightly, which earns me a sexy smile.
"Can I still come in for my coffee order tomorrow?" he asks.
"Of course."
"And maybe after you close down the bakery you can stop by and we can get up to more fucking amazing and hot stuff?"
I'm full-on beaming. This definitely isn't what I had in mind when I was psyching myself out to ask Max out on a date, it's a million times better. And I'm down to see where it goes.
"I'd really, really like that."
I start to turn to leave, but then Max grabs me gently by the hand, pulls me back to him, then levels me with a kiss so hot, my panties are soaked all the way through.
I stay standing in that spot, my head spinning, as I struggle to find my bearings.
"See you tomorrow, Joelle.”
― Sarah Echavarre Smith, The Boy With the Bookstore

“My heart pounded as I kissed Devin, thrilling the thread between us. It was a slow, sweet kiss that filled me with warmth. Pulling him by the tie, that was absolutely a Candace move. But it was worth channeling her if it gave me the backbone to reach out and make the move I wanted.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel, the scent of him in my face and making my head swim. A snap startled me--- a small gasp escaped my mouth against his and Devin took full advantage of it. Moving his tongue against my parted lips, I welcomed him in as we deepened the kiss. The string at my heart pulled tighter and tighter as if screaming for more.
When the pull between us felt impossibly needy, asking for more than I could physically give it, everything suddenly went slack. It was like a light switch had turned off. The pull was gone; in its place was a gentle warmth coming from Devin. I felt his heart, his adrenaline.
Letting the tie slide through my fingers, I leaned back so I could see him. My lips left his, and his hungry expression was slowly replaced by his mask of calm. That made one of us. My breath was burning sharp and fast as I panted down air; my chest rushed to keep up.
"That's better," I breathed. "I wasn't going to be able to sleep with that thread dangling like that."
Devin was surprisingly speechless, and my eyes flicked to the top half of his steering wheel, which had broken off in his hands. That explained the snap I'd heard.”
― Sabrina Blackburry, Dirty Lying Faeries

“I'm not lovely," she blurted out.
One side of his mouth kicked up. "Now, there," he said quietly, searching her face as if to memorize this new Callie, whom he'd just discovered, "I shall have to disagree."
And then he set his lips to hers and she was drugged by his caress and his words, both equally intoxicating. This kiss was different from all that they had shared before- softer, seeking, as though they were both discovering something altogether new. This was a concert of stroking tongue and soft lips. Gabriel lifted his head and waited for her to open her eyes; when she did, he was struck once more by her loveliness. He searched her face, watching as she returned from the sensual place where the kiss had taken her.
"You said I was plain."
He shook his head slowly, marveling at the clear, brown depths of emotion in her eyes. "There is nothing plain about you." And then, he kissed her again.
Her mouth was his banquet. He sipped at her lips, savoring their taste, their softness. Her hands found their way around his neck and into his hair- threading through the dark locks. The caress sent a shiver of pleasure through him. He ate at her, nibbling at her lips before gently laving the worried skin there with his tongue. When he pulled away and met her eyes once more, they were both breathing heavily, and Gabriel was wishing that they were anywhere but here, hundreds of Londoners mere feet away.
He had to stop. He was about to do exactly what he had resolved not to do. Had he not promised himself that he would not compromise her again? He owed her more. Better.
A vision flashed in his mind of Callie naked, spread before him in a pool of sunlight, and he pushed it aside. This was no time to indulge in fantasies that would further arouse him- as it was, his excitement was embarrassingly obvious in his breeches.”
― Sarah MacLean, Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake

“He sipped at her lips, teasing her with little nibbling kisses along her soft, full bottom lip before taking her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss that weakened her knees. His silken tongue stroked along her bottom lip, delving inside to taste her sweetness. She sighed into his mouth, eager for more, desperate for them to be anywhere but here- anywhere where they could revel in each other. She pressed closer to him, eager for more of his warmth, and as a ribbon of fire curled in her stomach, he emitted a low growl in the back of his throat.”
― Sarah MacLean, Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake

“Pascal and I talked the whole night, and at the end of it, he walked me back to my apartment. We were tired, yet not as drunk as I would have thought. I wanted to touch him and felt like he wanted to touch me, too. The air in the late, late night was thin and hallucinatory, like we were at a high altitude.
Outside my apartment, Pascal sighed and took me by the waist. He was much taller than I and swung me from side to side. He tipped his lips down as I tipped my lips up. And then, without a care in the world, we kissed.
His lips were surprisingly soft. I had only kissed Elliott for the past four years, and every kiss before that had been embarrassingly bad. Pascal's lips were so different, full yet muscular. He held me by the back of my head, then slid his hands down to my neck, kneading as he went, so by the time his hands were at the small of my back, my insides had melted.
Elliott had a shallow way of kissing, lips that moved like an ant on a leaf. Pascal was all push and pull, suck and lick. Every bit of pressure corresponded with another withdrawal, leaving me panting and yearning.”
― Jessica Tom, Food Whore

“Lăsând pradă gurii mele
Ale tale buze dulci.”
― Mihai Eminescu

“Livia didn’t reappear. She must have gone out by the back alley. Yaqub came into the house alone, his neck scratched and full of love bites, his face still burning with passion. That’s how he left: his clothes rumpled, his face wet, and his hair full of twigs, leaves, and strands of blondish hair. He went quietly, leaving the house where he had lived with frugality and discretion. He had barely occupied the place, hardly more than a shadow.”
― Fábio Moon, Two Brothers

“The Maronite Christian women in Manaus could not tolerate the notion of Zana marrying a Muslim. A mere tinker, a peddler, a roughneck, a Muslim from the mountains of Southern Lebanon, they’d say. Ah, these passions in the provinces. It’s like being onstage, listening to the audience booing two actors playing two lovers. The more they booed, the more perfume I put on the marriage sheets. It was a greedy and vengeful kiss, I silenced those rattling tongues…and all of Abbas’s ghazals were in that kiss.”
― Fábio Moon, Two Brothers

“I know we need to talk about things, lots of things," he chokes, "but I just-"
Susan grabs his face, pulls his head down, and devours him.
And that kiss is everything. It's love and regret and apology. Passion and sex, friendship and promise. It's want and need and yearning and heat and shivers that they both feel shuddering through their bodies. It's ten years' worth of kisses, all crowding into one embrace as the pair of them rediscover each other: the curves of their mouths and bodies pressed close, the insistence of hands and tongues, the hearts hammering in concert, and the silent, mutual promise that there is more- so much more! and better!- to come.
When they finally part, Susan looks up at him with a teasing smile and says, "You're not just doing this for the brownie recipe, are you?"
"Ah, you caught me!" He laughs, then kisses her again and again and again, and when they pause once more, she notices the flush creeping up his neck, the mixture of frustration and desire in his eyes.
Clinging to him, she says, in a throaty voice: "Your place or mine?"
"Well," he answers, with a devilish smile, "yours is closer, but mine doesn't have your father or Julia in it."
"Right," Susan laughs. "Yours, then."
Together, they hurtle through the crowd, through the gates of Charlotte Square, bellowing in unison, "Taxi!”
― Brianne Moore, All Stirred Up

“MacRae drew closer and took her head in his hands. His thumbs caressed the edge of her jaw, the light rasp of calluses causing gooseflesh to rise everywhere. Holy Moses, he was really going to do it. She was about to be kissed by a stranger.
Too late to make light of anything now. What have I done? She stared up at him with wide eyes, the dissonant notes of nerves and tension joining in a long, sweet chord of desire.
The crescents of his lashes, dark with gold tips, lowered slightly as he looked down at her. There was no place to hide from that piercing gaze. She felt so terribly exposed, every bit as naked as he'd been a few minutes ago.
His head bent, and his mouth found hers with a pressure as soft as snowfall.
She'd thought he might be rough or impatient, maybe a bit clumsy... she'd expected anything but the gently teasing caress that coaxed her lips apart before she was even aware of it. He tasted her with the tip of his tongue, a sensation that went down to her knees and weakened them. She felt herself list like a ship unable to right itself, but he gathered her firmly against him, his supportive arms closing around her. The tender focus on her mouth deepened until it had gone on longer than any kiss in her life, and still she wanted more.
He kissed her as if it were not the first time but the last, as if the world were about to end, and every second was worth a lifetime. He feasted on her with the craving of years. Blindly she caught at his mouth with hers, while her fingers tangled in his hair. The textures of him- plush velvet, rough bristle, wet silk- stimulated her beyond bearing. She'd never known desire like this, a swoon that kept deepening into more and more exquisite feeling.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Disguise

“Her hands groped around his neck, her fingers lacing through the thick shorn locks at the back of his head. The hard, clean contours of Keir's face rubbed against hers, a different feeling than the coarse tickle of his beard. But the mouth was the same, full and erotic, searingly hot. He consumed her slowly, searching with his tongue, licking deep into each kiss. Wild quivers of pleasure went through her, weakening her knees until she had to lean against him to stay upright. As her head tilted back, a forgotten tear slid from the outer corner of her eye to the edge of her hairline. His lips followed the salty track, absorbing the taste.
Keir cradled her cheek in his hand, his shaken whisper falling hotly against her mouth. "Merry, love... my heart's gleam, drop of my dearest blood... you should have told me."
Merritt heard her own weak reply as if from a distance. "I thought... in some part of your mind... you might have wanted to forget."
"No." Keir crushed her close, nuzzling her hard against her hair and disheveling the pinned-up coils. "Never, love. The memory slipped out of reach for a moment, is all." His hand coasted slowly up and down her spine. "I'm so damned sorry for the way I've been trying to keep you at a distance. I dinna know you were already inside my heart." He paused before adding wryly, "Mind, I did have to jump from a three-story window, with little to break the fall but my own hard head." Taking one of her hands, he pressed her palm over his pounding heartbeat. "But you were still in here. Your name is carved so deep, a million years could no' erase it.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Disguise

“He took her softly at first, appreciating the subtle beauty and joy in that first kiss, a moment that could never be repeated with her again. Desire stirred inside him, and Ramón took no prisoners. He kissed her hungrily, and she responded with a fiery passion. She tasted like tequila and lime and lust. He wanted to get drunk on her lips. This kiss in the graveyard was hauntingly beautiful, just like her.”
― Alana Quintana Albertson, Ramón and Julieta

“You taste like chocolate buttercream," he murmured against her lips.
"I had to taste it to make sure you did an adequate job."
"Mmm. I think I did a more than adequate job."
"Cocky."
He smiled against her lips before kissing her again. He swirled his tongue into her mouth and she gasped, pressing herself more firmly against him, wrapping one leg around his.
His hands moved to her hips to keep her steady, and hers moved up to his neck. He pressed her against the edge of the counter, and she almost bit him when she felt his erection at the apex of her legs.
It made her greedier, and it made everything a little sloppy---but in a good way.
Because it was Ryan, and she'd wanted him for a while now.”
― Jackie Lau, Donut Fall in Love

“Holding only the back of her neck, he didn't deepen the embrace, nor did he caress her or flex against her. He simply merged with her and, as he'd suspected, he was immediately overwhelmed.
This is what heaven must be like. The transient concept drifted past, then evaporated.
Sweetly, almost chastely, he discovered her best-kept secrets, using scant pressure and bare coercion. With a feeling approximating joy, he teased and trifled.”
― Cheryl Holt, Total Surrender

“A noise escaped her as they kissed that sounded like she’d just tasted something delicious, and Morgan felt him grin against her mouth before deepening the kiss. The barest hint of stubble, so light that she hadn’t even noticed it on his face, tickled her as their mouths and tongues explored.”
― Victoria Schade, Dog Friendly

“But she gasped with surprise when he nipped at her lower lip and then sucked to into his mouth briefly. It seemed the oddest thing to do, and yet it felt so nice, she thought faintly just before he let it slip from his mouth and ran his tongue along the seam of her lips.
Unsure what he was doing and if that was part of kissing, she started to pull back and opened her mouth to ask if it was, only to gasp as he followed and took advantage of her attempt to speak by slipping his tongue inside. Claray stilled again in shock as his tongue explored her in a way she'd never anticipated, and then a whole host of feelings she'd never before experienced rose up in her and she melted against him.”
― Lynsay Sands, Highland Wolf

“Her protests died in her throat as Conall suddenly covered her mouth with his in a searing kiss that made her forget the long list of reasons that were lining up in her head for why they shouldn't marry here and now. That wasn't all she forgot either. She forgot that her father stood beside her, that hundreds of soldiers surrounded them and, worst of all, that Father Cameron stood just feet away, witness to her horrible, sinning ways when she melted against Conall, wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed and moaned as he devoured her mouth.
When Conall's hands slid down her back, pressing her body firmly against his and then curved under her bottom and lifted her off the ground, Claray instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips, then gasped into his mouth as he began to walk, his body rubbing against her core with each step.”
― Lynsay Sands, Highland Wolf

“No, don't," Evie said urgently, as St. Vincent reached for the ties once more. She grappled with him, her fingers tangling with his. And then suddenly his mouth was on hers, and he pushed her against the side of building, anchoring her with his own body. His free hand caught the nape of her neck, beneath the weight of her damp hair. The lush pressure of his mouth caused a shock of response in every part of her body, all at once. She didn't know how to kiss, what to do with her mouth. Bewildered and shaking, she urged her closed lips back against his, while her heart thumped wildly and her limbs went weak.
He wanted things that she didn't know how to give. Sensing her confusion, he drew back and possessed her mouth with small, persistent kisses, the bristle on his face scraping gently against hers. His fingers came to the fragile structure of her jaw, tilting her chin, his thumb coaxing her lower lip apart from the upper. The instant he gained an opening, he sealed his mouth over hers. She could taste him, a subtle and alluring essence that effected her like some exotic drug. His tongue pushed inside her, exploring in caressing strokes.... sliding deeper as she offered no resistance.
After a luxuriously probing kiss, he eased back and their mouths were barely touching, their breath mingling in steamy puffs that were visible in the chilled night air. He brushed a half-open kiss against her lips, and another, his soft exhalations filling her mouth. The light kisses strayed across her cheek to the intricate hollow of her ear, and she gasped shakily as she felt his tongue trace the fragile rim, just before his teeth caught softly at the tiny lobe. She writhed in response, sensation streaking down to her breasts and farther, gathering low in intimate places.
Straining against him, she searched blindly for his hot, teasing mouth, the silken stroke of his tongue. He gave it to her, his kiss gentle but sure. She curled her free arm around his neck to keep from falling, while he kept the other wrist pressed against the wall, their pulses throbbing hard together beneath the wrapping of white ribbon. Another deep kiss, somehow raw and soothing at the same time... he ate at her mouth, tasted and licked inside her... the pleasure of it threatened to blot out her consciousness. No wonder... she thought dizzily. No wonder so many women had succumbed to this man, had thrown away their reputations and their honor for him... had even, if rumor could be believed, threatened to kill themselves when he left them. He was sensuality incarnate.
As St. Vincent lifted his body away from hers, Evie was surprised that she didn't crumple bonelessly to the ground. He was breathing as hard as she, harder, his chest rising and falling steadily.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter