Amy Andrews Quotes

Probably just as well. Maybe with all that testosterone walking out the door, the insane urge to hump Lincoln Quinn's leg would walk right out as well. Because that was exactly how she felt every time she looked at him.
Like she was in heat.
Within minutes, the restaurant had emptied out to only a few non-team wedding guests. Her nemesis was nowhere to be seen, and Em congratulated herself on her self-control as she eased off the bar stool.
Embarrassing leg-humping avoided - bravo!

My name on your lips as you come is the sexiest thing
I've ever heard.

I'll wash. Looks like brute strength is required."

Matilda wasn't about to argue. Might as well put those ridiculous muscles to good use. "I doubt I could write them into submission somehow."

"No," Tanner agreed, heading to the sink and flicking on the taps, intent on filling the industrial size sink and agitating the water as he squirted in some detergent. "You could, however, write about how I heroically and uncomplainingly scrubbed pots for hours while being witty and charming all at the service of some of the city's less fortunate."

"You want me to add in how woodland animals came in from the alley to befriend you?

Seriously, would you want some strange dude with
a scalpel down near your lady parts?"

She shuddered. "I can think of better uses for a dude
down near my lady parts.

Is this okay?"

Dex blinked. Okay? She couldn't have been any more
okay had she been dipped in marshmallow and rolled in coconut.

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Think you can last eight seconds?"
Joss was one hundred percent, absolutely, positively certain that she would not. She was even more certain that she'd break something.
Unfortunately, nerves made her mouthy.
"Eight seconds, huh? I heard you rodeo guys had a short fuse. We have pills for that now you know?"
He laughed and his lips were suddenly close to her ear again. "I can go longer than eight seconds as you well know. But even if that were true, I promise you, doc, it'd be the best eight seconds of your life."
Great. Now all she was going to think about while a piece of machinery spun and bucked beneath her was riding Troy in exactly the same way. Was it possible to have a mechanical-bull-induced orgasm?
That would be seriously embarrassing.
Certainly more than the good folk of Plainview would have expected from an innocent night out at the Bull Bar. There were children watching for the love of Mike.

So, we had a good time together?"
"We had a VERY good time together."
GOD. They'd fucked like bunnies, hadn't they?

He slid the jack beneath the frame. "I'm down here now...Might as well go all the way."
Joss shut her eyes as his words conjured other things he could do while he was down there.
Oh God. She was going to hell.

Scarlett lived by the (thankfully) ancient medical creed: If it tastes awful and smells worse, it's probably good for you.
Julia wasn't so sure about that. She lived by the edict: If it tastes awful and smells worse, leave it the hell alone. On the other hand, if it tasted good and smelled better, you either ate it, squirted it on your neck or fucked it.
It hadn't led her wrong so far.

It's been a long time," he murmured, prowling towards her, drawing to a halt just out of reaching distance.

Not long enough.

Not nearly long enough as the incredible mix of soap, deodorant, and cologne he wore so well had her body responding like he was an original glazed Krispy Kreme.

Still warm from the oven.

Dear God...he did still smell good enough to eat.

I can't have sex with you, Troy."
"Yeah. You've mentioned it once or twice."
She groaned again. "It's just that…you're so damn tempting."
He grinned. At her conflict and the absurdity of it. As if they were teenagers who'd sworn a virginity pledge and had the purity rings to prove it. He rolled up on his side, supporting his head with his palm. "I'm sorry. For being so tempting."
She snorted. "No you're not."
Troy laughed. "You're right. I'm not.

What do you want?" he whispered against the thick thud of her carotid pulse. "Tell me what you want, baby."
No one had ever called her baby. The fact that it had come from a guy seven years her junior should have been ridiculous. But it wasn't. It curled her toes.

You're driving me crazy." His ragged words were barely louder than a whisper but wicked hot against her neck.
And he didn't sound cocky or so sure of himself now. He sounded completely at her mercy.
Like he might just die if she stopped.

You do know I'm not psychic, right?'
Dash looked down at her. 'Joy...you do know that normal people don't see ghosts, right?

He kissed her then. Not tentative. Not polite.
This was no first-kiss kiss. It was demanding. Dirty. And it went on and on. Deep, open-mouthed, head-twisting, tongue-fucking, rock'n'roll kissing.

Jemima Jane Erickson was one drunken pass away from jumping Ethan Weston's bones. He just didn't know it.

It was him against the flames and he revelled in it.
Logan was good at his job. Exceptionally good. He had the Knight gift for it.
There was no fear of the fire that would turn most mortals to jelly because flames licked in his blood.
To him it was a battle - good against evil.

And he was the good guy.

He'd gone too far. He didn't usually talk to women so frankly. Not with them both fully clothed anyway.

Ivy just had to look at him to know that Dean Bennet would never look at her. He was the kind of guy who dated flamenco dancers or famous actresses or multi-lingual international human rights lawyers. Not sheltered little daddy's girls who could barely look at him without turning red.

You've shaped me into this woman I never wanted to be. There are bits of myself I don't even like.

His aftershave – eau du sex god - wafted her way.

Hold on, baby." He slid his hands under her ass before rising to his feet. Harper gave a little squeal as she held tight. "I'm going to make you come so hard you're going to want to name a day of the week after me.

I think you just made me forget my own name. Not even amnesia managed that.

You should come and watch me."
She frowned. "Watch you?"
A small smiled nudged his lips. She didn't need to be a mind reader to know where his mind had just gone. "Ride bulls. On the weekend."
There were probably about a hundred things she'd put her hand up to watch this guy do, a lot of them just as dirty as the things he'd been thinking. Watching him get tossed around for entertainment on the back of a large angry animal wasn't one of them.

He cocked an eyebrow and Joss's gaze was once again drawn to the white scar that slashed it in half. "You been Googling me?"
Joss's cheeks warmed. "I needed to know I wasn't letting an axe murderer into our house.

Dexter Blake liked a woman with some junk in her trunk. And the tall, curvy chick on the sidelines was packing a whole lot of booty.

She had one of those itty-bitty waists, too. And her cups floweth'd over.

Staring at her chest was practically a religious experience.

There was just something so damn male about a man doing something with his hands. Something mechanical. Something sweaty. And dirty. Watching Coop in his natural environment was seriously turning her on.

She couldn't lookaway from the feral lust on his face - the cording of his neck muscles, the tight clamp of his jaw, the baring of his teeth. It fed the heat building in her thighs and buttocks and belly. It
stoked the fever raging out of control between her legs.
She'd never been so freaking turned on in her life.

The man looked hot in his jersey, sexy as hell in a pair of
jeans and goddamn mouth-watering in nothing but his tan. In a business suit? He looked utterly fuckable.

She broke off the kiss again on a strangled gasp, staring at him, her chest heaving. "We're not having sex here tonight." Even as she said it, she rode his thigh harder. Troy's eyes almost rolled back in his head at her barely leashed restraint, at the buck of hips that didn't seem to buy the message her mouth was selling.
"Okay," he agreed. If she chose to dry hump him all the way to orgasm beneath a billion stars he'd be in that.

There were only two things he was really good at. Riding bulls and satisfying women.
But Joss wasn't just another woman to him. Deep in his bones he knew she was special.
She was the eight-second ride. The gold buckle.

But damn it, if he could be nonchalant about a woman rubbing herself against his giant erection like it was a stripper's pole, then so could she.

A woman could do a lot of crazy things for a pair of fine-looking dimples.

Tiny." Juliet's firm voice brought the dog to an abrupt halt much to Ryder's immense relief. "Sit."
The damn dog sat and Ryder threw a dark look in Tiny's direction until he realised the dog's head was level with Juliet's chest. No wonder he'd been so eager to obey.
The dog wasn't a flirt. He was a pervert.
"Good puppy," she crooned, cradling his head again, squishing his jowls, Tiny's wet nose smooshed into her breasts.
Fucks sake! The dog was getting more action than he was.

So, what...in the meantime, you just..." He glanced at her then back at the road. "Deny yourself?"

Em gave a half smile at the incredulity in his voice. Clearly it was a foreign concept to him. "It's okay. I have a battery operated boyfriend awaiting my attention when I get home."

He shot her a quick, open-mouthed stare, his lips parted enticingly. He looked so stunned at her admission she couldn't help but laugh.
"Sorry, didn't you know that women did that, too? Did I shock you?"

"Not at all." He recovered quickly, a big smile splitting his profile. "I'm just trying to decide which is sexier. Self-denial or self-abuse.

Oh I bet you're sweet as under all that posh.'
And he looked at her in a way that left her in no doubt that he wasn't talking about the way she might move on the dance floor. If he mentioned honey pots she was going to pour her vodka shot over him. 'You'll never know,

You're a gambling man, right? Or do you only bet on frivolous things like poker and fucking women?

If the man screwed like he kissed she was a goner

He hadn't struck her as particularly religious unless she counted the number of times he'd called out to Jesus when he'd been deep inside her.

Stay the night, don't stay the night. I'm not going to read anything into it, okay? If you want to hang out, then I'm around. Your call. I'm not going to boil your pet bunny or tell Facebook you have a small dick, I promise.

You have no idea how dirty I can play." He laughed. "Bring. It. On.

Well? Get your suff. You're already late for the appointment or you want we should hug as well?"

Marcus snorted appreciating his brother's attempts to lighten the situation. "Not even if you suddenly morphed into Miss World.

Julia had been angry most of her life. She may have grown up in wealth and privilege but she'd had to fight to be heard and seen. To be validated. To be something other than a piece to be moved around her parents' Monopoly board. Rage had given her a voice against their manipulations and the guts to walk away. But it had also become ingrained.
There were times when she'd contemplated therapy for it. Right now, she was pleased she hadn't.
If anything could kill this cancer it would be the weight of Julia's wrath.

I want to strip that underwear off you. I want to lay you flat and bury my head between your thighs and stay there until you forget the name of any other man who's ever gone down on you....I want to kiss you until we both can't breathe...I want to push your gorgeous breasts together and thrust my cock
between them until I come all over them....I want to look down and see your mouth around my dick...I want to turn you upside down and inside out with
wanting me.

Nathaniel's gaze fell on the crystal-encrusted pendant around her neck. "You own a shop that sells crystals?

She felt sorry for him. A hippie chick who looked like she bought her clothes at Oxfam and a puff of wind could blow her over?

Then his mouth was on hers and they were kissing hard and deep and wet, and they were moaning and rubbing and tugging and grinding. Harper's heart crashed in her chest and her pulse roared in her ears and her breathing came in shallow gasps and her breasts were squashed against his chest and they were in a goddamn bathroom at her work
and she didn't care.

Faith had given up on the whole one-day-my-prince-will-come romantic bullshit

If they didn't stop this, she was going to come
embarrassingly quickly.
Possibly even right now.
Not to mention the fact she never let men she barely knew unzip her and suck on her nipples.

I'm going to drag you down to the basement, kneel at your feet, rip your jeans down and I'm going to make you come so hard with my tongue the whole damn pub will think you're being murdered.

If you think I haven't been fantasising about your mouth around my cock, then you're crazy

I like this skirt. Makes a guy wonder just how to get a girl out of it.

What can I say? Watching you play rugby makes me horny."

His fingers lightly stroked her back. "In that case, I'll get you a season pass.

Now, grip the bull tight with your thighs." She dutifully tensed her thighs. "Not tense. Grip. Real hard with your whole thigh." His voice dropped, his lips pressing in closer to her ear as he murmured, "I know you know how to do that."
A surge of heat shot from her core. Didn't he know she was having a hard enough time sitting on the damn thing as it was without sexual innuendo messing with her equilibrium? She shot him a don't-make-me-get-off-this-thing look but gripped.
Hard.
"Atta girl," he whispered.
Joss gritted her teeth. "Don't push your luck, cowboy.

All she could think was what an effective...tool it looked. Her father always said you needed the right tool for the job and Dean sure knew how to bring it.

She hadn't planned on getting laid tonight but then she hadn't planned on missing her home and her friends and being thnis down and, frankly, this bored on her special day. She was so relieved to see a guy her own age it was worth a thank-you-for-walking-into-this-bar-fuck alone.

There is one story about letters. A perpetually cheerful Frog pays a visit to Toad but finds Toad glum, sitting on his front porch.
"This is my sad time of day," says Toad, "when I wait for the mail to come."
"Why is that?" says Frog.
"No one has ever sent me a letter. My mailbox is always empty. That is why waiting for the mail is a sad time for me."
Then Frog and Toad sit "on the porch, feeling sad together."
Frog rescues the situation by running home, writing a letter to Toad, and sending it literally by snail mail. The little snail brings it four days later.
Even though Toad saw Frog every day, he longed for the strangeness, the otherness of a letter, for something to come from out there and address him, "Dear Toad." Is that the thrill I feel finding a letter from you in my box? The address of a friend is made into a physical fact and every letter an artifact of the otherwise invisible communion of friendship.

Please give me a chance to make you happy. I make this promise to you in this beautiful garden you fought so hard for, that I will spend every day putting you first.

Stop now," he warned, low and husky, "or forever hold your peace." Addie froze, mortified. "I'm…" What? I'm what? Depraved? Disturbed? Disgusting? How long had he been awake?

Better than an orgasm? Clearly the woman was having lousy orgasms.

JJ glared at his slumbering frame. Long legs, lethal in denim, his button fly already enticingly popped, abdomen all ridged and naked, begging for a finger or a tongue to discover the hills and valleys, dark shaggy hair spread around his head like a freaking halo on her pillow.
Well too damn bad for this broken-down angel. She was the one who'd worked her ass off until two am. Not him.
And she wanted her bed back.

I've got some good physical therapy for you. Any good at fencing?"
Joss almost choked on her mouthful of coffee. She sat up straight in her chair and shook her head. "No, Gus."
Troy ignored her. "I can fence in my sleep."
"Gus." She narrowed her eyes at her father-in-law who could be stubborn as a mule. "He dislocated his elbow. He shouldn't be doing any heavy lifting with his arm. Not to mention it's going to be in a splint for a couple of weeks."
"He's still got his right arm, don't he?"
"Yeah," Troy drawled, amusement flattening his vowels even more than usual. "I've still got my right arm."
She glared at Gus. "You want to take on a one-armed fencer?"
"Damien's got his summer job starting today so I'm losing my sidekick and Cody's out with his broken leg for another couple of weeks. It'd be handy to have even one extra hand on."
"I bet I can fence better one-armed than most men can with two."
There was no bravado to the claim. His expression was sincere and Joss believed him. She didn't doubt this man could do a crap ton of things better than most men.

You treated me like a fool and you played with my heart, like it was one of your damn footballs.

Sure. Although I should give you fair warning. I can't promise to be so gentlemanly again should you get horny at five a.m. tomorrow morning.

If anyone had told Joss last week that she'd be dry humping a twenty-seven-year-old she'd met only five days prior in the bathroom of the loft above her garage, she'd have committed them for psychiatric evaluation. But here she was and she could not get enough.
Her body throbbed with need. Maybe she needed committing?

What kind of place do I hang out in?"

"The kind of place where they boot scoot and line dance."

"You think I'm a cowboy?"

"Actually...I was going for bullrider."

"Well I do enjoy a long, hard ride so sure...lets go with that.

Poppy Devine did not deserve cancer. Poppy was sweet and industrious and careful and measured and always, always did the right thing. If anyone deserved cancer it was Julia. Julia was loud and opinionated and disagreeable. Rude, some might even say. She went out with bad men, took unnecessary risks, pushed people to their limits, swore like a sailor and flipped the bird more than any female in the history of the world.
It should be her number coming up in the cancer lottery.

I meant what I said about sex."
His hand slid all the way up her leg, pushing what little skirt was still covering her out of the way, holding it in a bunch at her belly button. Her nudity was fully exposed to his gaze and he looked his fill, breathing out hard.
"Who said anything about sex?"
He leaned in, his mouth dropping to the pale slice of skin between where his hand held her skirt and the thatch of hair between her legs. She wasn't trimmed as was the fashion among the women he usually took to his bed but Troy was not a fussy guy and here, under the stars, his head filling with the musky scent of her arousal, au naturel seemed fitting.
The ragged pant of her breathing stuttered into the air as he lazily stroked his tongue down.
Down. Down. Down.
She roused. Shifted. Raised herself up on her elbows, her abs tightening, her thighs tensing. "I think you'll find that still counts," she said, obviously throwing one last-ditch effort into denying herself the pleasure she so clearly craved.
He chuckled low, his warm breath fanning her belly, satisfied to feel gooseflesh stippling the soft skin. "If you think this is sex, you need to read some more textbooks, doc.

A woman really had no business looking that good in a man's hat

I tackle guys three times your size for a living. I can handle whatever you throw at me.

Considering I know what you look like naked and what you sound like when you come and what you taste like, I actually know very little about you.

I really am okay," he murmured.
It was more than Ivy could stand. Of course he was okay. She had no doubt Dean would always soldier on, always come out on top.
Dean Bennet was always going to be okay.
But that didn't mean she couldn't grieve for all that he'd lost. That there wasn't a wounded kid in there somewhere who needed a hug just as much as she did.

Was he curious about her?
That was putting it mildly. He was curious about the noises she might make if he kissed her properly and the colour of her nipples and what she tasted like between her legs and the extent of her tattoo and how she'd sounded as she came. He was curious about where she liked to be touched and whether she'd let him take charge and if she liked giving head. He was curious about the long curve of her spine and the dip of her hip and how she'd looked straddled atop of him, her hair loose, her breasts bouncing as he pushed her over the edge.
Or curled up beside him in bed, naked, her body branded by his.

Christ. He was going to hell.
The thought should have helped with the erection. It didn't. He doubted anything would. Not even thoughts of the Colonel pushing him out of an aircraft from six thousand feet without a parachute was going to kill it.

That does not make me feel better."
He chuckled. "It doesn't?"
"No. I feel like the wallflower being patronised by the cool guy."
"You're not a wallflower."
"Says the cool guy.

Sex was a happiness transaction. And rugby had given Linc the means to feel very happy, very often.

He smiled that smile again. How could something so lazy do such busy things to her body?

Nathaniel suddenly felt as if he'd been plonked into an I Dream of Jeannie episode.

If I was any wetter I'd be lying in a puddle.

It was the kind of mouth that should only be found on angels. Chick angels.

The car was some kind of Porsche and the door stood open and beckoning, like a gold embossed invitation to sin
If she could survive a ride with angel-lips in his penis car then surely she'd be immune to him in any situation?

She should be painted on a ceiling somewhere

Love is a risk. It always is. None of us is guaranteed a long life. But love takes courage.

Talk to me when your nuts are so blue they look like something you can hang on a Christmas tree.

He thought there was chemistry? Faith had always hated chemistry at school but if she'd known a sexy Australian was going to seduce her with it in the future she may have paid more attention.