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Enemies To Lovers Romance Quotes

Browse 67 quotes about Enemies To Lovers Romance.

Enemies To Lovers Romance Quotes

“Why do men pretend that they're not in pain when they clearly are?" "Because we don't like being fussed over," he answers with a small smile. "See, that's the strange part about it," I say, cupping my latte. "Men love being fussed over. I've never heard so much whining as when a man is sick." A gleam of challenge lights his eyes. "You're missing the key factor." Macon sets his cup on the table. A bit of creamy foam clings to the corner of his lip, and he licks it away with the tip of his tongue. "We only do that when we expect our women to kiss and cuddle us, then tuck us into bed." I blame the steam from my latte for the hot tightness over my cheeks.”

“Age Shaming? To grow older is not a crime. In fact, we are all growing older each day. Those of us who have reached "age milestones" are pieces to the puzzle of a life the "young" have not yet lived. "Yes, we hold the answers. Therefore, we are to be prized not pitied or discriminated against." Christie Christie: The Sadistic Narcissistic: To Love a Ghost”

“When the heavenly combination of sweet strawberries and gooey, fluffy pancakes exploded in my mouth, I let out a low, throaty moan that wasn't suitable for the breakfast table. Those girls he was talking about? Yeah, they knew what was up, because honestly, who wouldn't want to be eating these for the rest of their lives? Just for the pancakes alone, I'd marry him in a heartbeat. Men who can cook are hot AF. He was an excellent cook. Perhaps that first bite was a bit of a fluke. I was starving, so my tastebuds were probably warped. But when the second and third bites were followed by the second and third moans, it became obvious that his pancakes were making me experience something orgasmic. In fact, the closest thing I'd had to a non-battery-operated orgasm in a while. "Who are you?" I looked up to see him staring at me, his eyes darkening, and his fork suspended in midair. "Eric never mentioned his friend being a culinary genius." He slowly lowered the fork, his eyes still on mine. "Told you so." "Relax. I won't leap over this countertop and profess my undying love to you, or, God forbid, jump your bones." I speared the last piece, then wiped the remaining strawberry jam with it, making sure not to miss a single morsel. "Not even your pancake can make me like you." "Maybe my homemade waffles could change your mind." Glasses + pancakes + waffles? I could be in huge trouble.”

“You can't get under my skin." We'll see about that. "Maybe not under it, but I've been on top of it before." He pursed his lips, but the corner of his eye twitched. "I've thought long and hard about this moment, about you and me." I carefully let the words pour from my lips like honey until he grew red-faced, bothered. "Especially about that time we broke your bed." And he missed. Ouch, outer ring. I scoffed. "Still struggling to hit your mark, I see.”

“My body, blood, and soul fumed. I no longer felt the ground under my feet. I couldn’t see anything but him. The very heart in my chest burned and raged and set my skin ablaze. My fingers strained, feeling every spark, ember, and flame even through my bones. Water lined my eyes. “I don’t get what’s between us or what you want. It drives me mad.” “Yeah? And don’t you think I hate it, too?” Laken stumbled back, shaking his head before aiming his glare back at me. Golden locks hung over his face, slightly damp from the rain. His eyes were as stormy as the sky above us and twice as fierce. “It kills me,” he confessed; the muscles in his throat pulsed. Somehow, he’d dwindled the space between us. I could smell the honey and mint. The scent that once lingered on my bedsheets. “It kills me to see you and not touch you. It kills me to hear your voice knowing it won’t say my name like it once did.” Laken looked at me as if I was something more, something to be hurt for. “Being around you kills me.” Each word, a wound. Laken and I both panted, both toeing a dangerous line. Traitorous. Treacherous, even. But still, I pushed further. Straightening my spine, I lifted my chin and scoffed. “Good,” I said, deep and slow. Daring to step closer, only inches remained. “I hope it hurts. I hope you pray for mercy. And I hope it leaves you aching when you go to bed. I will make it my life’s mission to ensure that you are in pain every day for the rest of your life, thinking about me.” Laken devoured the distance parting us, leaving nothing but him and me. My eyes flicked to his lips, as his did to mine. Heart to heart, heat from his chest pummeled into me. I felt him so close, yet not close enough. Never close enough. Never far enough. Our lips were separated by a thin line of love and hate. And that line was beginning to blur. Slowly, torturing ourselves, taunting ourselves, he whispered, “Do your worst.”

“His voice pours over me like hot syrup. "Doesn't matter what I say, does it? I could tell you that watching you suck on that juicy bit of mango was one of the erotic highlights of my life. That I want to lick the pink, pouty curve of your lower lip to see if it's sticky sweet." Gently, he touches the swell of my lip, and I feel it deep within my sex. "Such a pouty fucking mouth," he whispers. "Always frowning at me with that plump lower lip." I. Cannot. Breathe. I am flush with fever-bright heat. And it is all Macon's fault.”

“Claire shook her head. “I’m not that young. In dance years I’m practically middle-aged. I can probably compete for another ten years, but once I hit thirty, I’ll be ancient. That’s why it’s so important to compete in Blackpool now, I don’t have time to waste. Once I’ve made a name for myself as a dancer, then I can relax a little and take it easy.” “And here I thought I’d been partnered with a nice young lady,” Luca joked. “Are those highlights or grey hairs?” Claire scowled. “That’s not funny.” “What’s funny is your Cuban motion,” Luca continued, “I thought your hips were stiff because you’re not used to moving them, but maybe you just have arthritis.” “Seriously,” Claire’s mouth twitched, “stop it.” “Or what, you’re going to chase after me with your cane, Grandma?”

“Laken read my favorite books to feel at home. All this time, all these crippling days of doubt, and he’d sat by himself in other kingdoms reading my favorite books so he didn’t feel alone. I bit my lips to hold back my grin. “Does this mean you want to talk about your favorite fictional conspiracy theories?” Laken locked eyes with me. A mischievous grin made me hope he thought the same things I did, and we talked for hours. Though his theories didn’t always match up with mine, it almost felt like, dare I say it… we were friends again.”

“Your favorite color is mint green. You like dramas and comedies. Can't stand gory movies. Hate carrot cakes but will never say no to brownies. You love all animals, except spiders. Your favorite candy is Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. You can't stand bullies and attention seekers. You'll try everything in life once, because you want to prove that you can live as normal a life as everyone else." He stopped at the dazed look on my face. "What? Have I got it all wrong?" That was the problem. He didn't. He got all of them right.”