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Quote by Gwenn Wright

“My heart, for unknown reasons, seems to freeze in motion in my chest. I can see he senses it and he holds his pause to enjoy my suffering, prolonging my ignorance. “Viktor, what?”

Quote by Gwenn Wright

Book:The BlueStocking Girl
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The BlueStocking Girl

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Gwenn Wright

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“Do you believe in love? Do you believe in hearts of craft, and the shake of the holiness of sorrow and in death you’ll be surprised! do you believe in love? do you believe in truth? do you believe in giving women a heart that is wowed? do you believe in love? do you believe in God? do you believe in hope? do you believe in stars? do you believe in love? do you believe in you? do you believe in life? do you believe in love’s noun?”

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Book:The Auguries of Lost Lilacs
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“I fell in love with the way he knew my words before I even spoke…the way he touched me with his deep-set eyes…the way he could see into my soul…the way he moved me like I was the earth under his feet, sky above…the eternal poem…the way his heartbeat synchronized with mine. The way he kissed me like I was the only way he could breathe…the way he embraced me like pure love. The way he possessed me like Poe possessed Annabel Lee and she him.”

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Book:Moon Gypsy
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“He didn't overpower, exploring her mouth with confident thoroughness, as if they had all the time in the world. Gradually, he increased the intensity, his mouth sliding this way and that, angling his head to find the perfect fit. Then, before she had any idea what he truly wanted, he coaxed her lips to part so he could slide his tongue inside. He dipped and sipped, licked and pressed, teasing her in ways that made her thoughts turn to ash. Her fingers opened and closed spasmodically against the fine wool of his coat, and she rocked up onto her toes to get more. He chuckled low in his throat as he slowly eased away, leaving her momentarily confused and bereft, her body keenly aware of the abrupt loss of pleasure. His eyes gleamed like gold coins. "You taste every bit as sweet as you look, my dear." He skimmed the back of one finger over her cheek. "Maybe this bargain we're making won't be such a bad one after all.”

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Book:Happily Bedded Bliss
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“Give me your hand," Alice said, barely a whisper. Bones held out his hand tentatively. She took it and placed it on her heart over her left breast. So small. So delicate. She didn't move. He didn't move. Alice was his life. How could he make her his eternal? "Kiss me," she said. Bones let his hand linger, and then slowly slip away, not wanting her to think he was greedy. He touched her cheek, careful not to poke her in the eye. He wasn't sure what to do with his other hand, so he put it in his pocket. Classic move. He felt stupid for worrying about his breath, knowing it was gross from the wine--and he worried Alice was about to find out how little he knew about kissing--and he wondered if she had condoms in the bag--and imagined himself unrolling one, all suave-like--and realized he was wasting the most amazing moment of his life--and wished his brain would just shut the fuck up. Alice leaned forward. "Now." Bones shuddered. "Okay.”

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Book:Skin and Bones
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“Vane held the reins of his desire in a grip of iron and refused to let his demons loose. Deep, primal instincts urged him on; experience held him back. She'd never yielded her mouth to any man, never shared her lips willingly. He knew that absolutely, sensed the truth in her untutored response, read it in her lack of guile. But she was rising to him, her passion, her desire, answering his call, sweet as the dew on a crisp spring morning, virginal as snow on an inaccessible peak. He could reach her- she would be his. But there was no need for any hurry. She was untouched, unused to the demands of a man's hands, a man's lips, much less a man's body; if he pressed too fast, she'd turn skittish and balk. And he'd have to work harder to bring her to his bed. Angling his head over hers, he kept every caress slow, every plundering stroke deliberate. Passion lay heavy, languid, almost somnolent between them; as he claimed every sweet inch of the softness she offered him, he laced the heady sensation into every caress, and let it sink into her senses. It would lie there, dormant, until next time he touched her, until he called it forth. He would let it rise by degrees, feed it, nurture it until it became the inescapable compulsion that would, in the end, bring her to him. He would savor her slowly, savor her slow surrender- all the more sweet because the end was never in doubt.”

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Book:A Rake's Vow
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