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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #kleypas
And you . . . staring up at him, all starry-eyed and breathless—" "I wasn't!" "The picture was too perfect. A New England Christmas. Two childhood sweethearts sharing old memories—" "You're being unreasonable!" "You would have been a handsome couple. You do suit each other quite well." "I don't think so," she said quickly, placing a small, restraining hand on his chest as he towered over her. "Oh?" The bright flare of jealousy in his gaze showed no signs of diminishing. "No—I don't prefer that kind of man at all. He's . . . he's too short, for one thing. I never realized before how short he was. And his hair… well, it’s much too dark. I prefer lighter hair more." Heath's grip loosened marginally, a sign that encouraged Lucy to continue. "He's too quiet, too predictable…too straight-laced. I would die of boredom if I to spend more than five minutes with him. He doesn’t like to argue or swear, and he doesn't drink too much or lose his temper. He's not the kind who would appreciate black silk pantalets." “He has a respectable family that everyone approves of.” “I don't care about what anyone else thinks." Heath yanked her closer to him, his savage mood barely concealed. His fingers bit into the backs of her shoulders, but not harshly enough to leave bruises. Thick gold-tipped lashes lowered over azure eyes as he stared down at her mouth. “You’ve wanted him ever since you were a child,” he pointed out gruffly. “Until my taste matured." “He’s a gentleman." “Yes. That's the worst thing of all. ↗
All husbands are unfaithful in one way or another.” Lillian and Daisy glanced at each other with raised brows. “Father isn’t,” Lillian replied smartly. Mercedes responded with a laugh that sounded like crackling leaves being crushed underfoot. “Isn’t he, dear? Perhaps he has stayed true to me physically—one can never be certain about these things. But his work has proved a more jealous and demanding mistress than a flesh-and-blood woman could ever be. All his dreams are invested in that collection of buildings and employees and legalities that absorb him to the exclusion of all else. If my competition had been a mortal woman, I could have borne it easily, knowing that passion fades and beauty lasts but an instant. But his company will never fade or sicken—it will outlast us all. If you have a year of your husband’s interest and affection, it will be more than I have ever had. ↗
Slowly his resistance ebbed. She felt the change in his body, the relaxing of tension, his shoulders curving around her as if he could draw her into himself. Murmuring her name, he brought her hand to his face and nuzzled ardently into her palm, his lips brushing the warm circlet of her gold wedding band. “My love is upon you,” he whispered…and she knew then that she had won. ↗
A prickle ran down the back of Lucy's neck. Her eyes flew to the doorway at the side of the room. Heath stood there, having arrived a few minutes early to pick her up and take her home. His legs were crossed negligently as he leaned against the doorjamb. Someone had given him a glass of wine, which was held carelessly between his long fingers. His mouth quirked in an ironic half-smile. And he raised his glass to her. It could have been a compliment. Or the most sarcastic gesture anyone had ever made to her. Lucy didn’t know which. She stared at her husband in confusion, his name poised on her lips. His eyes slid down the slender line of her throat to the pale, generous curves of her bosom, lingered there boldly and traveled back up to her face. His stare was so warm and thorough that she flushed as if he had touched her intimately in public, and he kept on looking at her even while he drank from the delicate wine glass. Her heart raced wildly as an electric current of awareness raced over her skin. ↗
He uttered a curse that startled her with its foulness, and gripped her head between his hands, forcing her to stare at him. His voice was savage. "For twelve years I have been in constant torment, wanting you in my arms and believing it would never be possible. I want you for a thousand reasons other than your legs, and...no, damn it, I want you for no reason at all, other than the fact that you're you. I want to shove myself deep inside you and stay for hours...days...weeks. I want morning and noon and nightfall with you. I want your tears, your smiles, your kisses...the smell of your hair, the taste of your skin, the touch of your breath on my face. I want to see you in the final hour of my life...to lie in your arms as I take my last breath. ↗
Suddenly all the fight and anger in him seemed to ebb and he shook his head, taking another swallow of the biting liquor. His fingers were wrapped tightly around the glass. Lucy remained silent, sitting down on the edge of the bed and watching him as he drank the rest of the second glass of whiskey. He was in pain. She was helpless to do anything for him until he let down some of the walls. Ask me to hold you . . . here are my arms, ready to wrap around you. Here is my heart… just ask. ↗
He shook his head, staring at her like a condemned man who beheld the face of his executioner. "Aline," he whispered, "Do you know what hell is?" "Yes." Her eyes overflowed. "Trying to exist with your heart living somewhere outside your body." "No. It's knowing that you have so little faith in my love, you would have condemned me to a lifetime of agony." His face contorted suddenly. "To something worse than death. ↗
It has to be now,” he insisted, a flick of amusement in his voice. He nudged his burgeoning loins against her. “After all, you can’t allow me to go around like this all day.” “From what I’ve learned so far, this is your natural condition,” came her pert reply. ↗
