Physical Attraction Quotes

“He handed the garments to her, and began to unknot his necktie. "Wait- take this too."
Cassandra's eyes widened as he began on his shirt cuffs. "How much more clothing do you plan to remove?" she asked uneasily.
Tom grinned, not missing the quick, interested flick of her gaze over him. "I'm only rolling up my sleeves." He paused, his hands going to the top button of his collar. "Although if you insist-"
"No," she said quickly, blushing at his teasing. "That's quite enough."
A warm mist had started to spread through the room, sweating the white tiles. Cassandra's skin was turning luminous from the humid air. Little wisps of hair at her forehead had drawn up into delicate curls he longed to play with.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Attraction is never random.”
― Wayne Gerard Trotman

“A bemused smile crossed Cassandra's face as she saw Tom Severin kneeling on the floor with his thighs spread for balance, a steel pipe cutter in one hand. In contrast to his earlier polished elegance, he was in shirtsleeves with the cuffs rolled up over his forearms and the collar unfastened. A well-formed man, wide-shouldered and long in the bone. He was steaming in the residual heat from the range, the cropped hair at the back of his neck damp with sweat, the fine linen of his shirt clinging to a hard-muscled back.
Well. This was an eye-opener, in more ways than one.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Creative sexual expression always requires a relationship.

Bringing a vision into physical reality requires both action and response. Cause and effect must completely work out on all levels.

Justice does not oppose grace and love, it provides the necessary container for love to manifest.”
― Joy Nur, The Cube of Space Workbook

“He had envisioned each contour and line of her face, the spellbinding individuality of personal detail. Here was a woman who had lived, and that life had been kind and good. And within that goodness lay true glamour, which was far more than the sum of ephemeral, physical parts. That was why, even attired in an unpretentious house dress, her forty-eight-year-old face scarcely made up, Molly was glamorous in a way that put in the shade women half her age and on the cover of fashion magazines.”
― Ray Smith, The Magnolia That Bloomed Unseen

“Encounter w/ strange man June 3, approx. 2 a.m. White, 5'9", slightly scruffy, shaggy brown hair. Ripped T-shirt, jeans, no shoes. Origin and destination unknown, believed to be night wanderer.


I chewed on the end of the pen, wondering if I should include any other details. It had been too dark to tell what color his eyes were. His voice had been deep, with a rasp, almost... but I couldn't write that. If my body was found in the woods behind the house, and investigators were competent enough to do a forensic analysis of this notebook, I didn't want editorializing words complicating the narrative. Words like compelling, or god forbid, sexy.”
― Alicia Thompson, Love in the Time of Serial Killers

“And while I agree - and who wouldn’t? - that being in Love is the optimum, I have learned that what we call love, or at least what I called love, was often only a ferocious physical attraction.”
― Sari Gilbert, My Home Sweet Rome: Living (and loving) in Italy's Eternal City

“She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, licked the strong line of his jaw, the chin with a tiny cleft in the center. She liked his scratchy stubble, the erotic burning sensation it made on her skin as he licked and sucked the sensitive dip between her neck and her shoulder.”
― Sara Desai, The Marriage Game

“I gaze at his unshaven face; it's manly. He's handsome in an old-fashioned kind of way, straight out of a 1950s movie”
― Heather Dark, excerpt from The Designer Wife

“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

“Sex, like everything else, is good or bad, helpful or unhelpful, pleasant or painful, fulfilling or demoralising based on the participants’ thoughts. Within the context of love, sex is a force for good. For many people, a loving sexual connection is the closest they ever get to a transcendent sense of benevolence, bliss, and that feeling of all is well—the closest they get to God. This is because loving sexual oneness is the shadow of true spiritual Oneness. As such, it carries with it some of the same elements, some of the same promise. The desire for physical unity represents the more profound desire for spiritual completeness. Within a spontaneous, playful, respectful, and unselfish context, sexual closeness is a channel for light, but it cannot fulfil our deepest yearnings.”
― Donna Goddard, The Love of Being Loving

“She set ice cream on the counter, pulled the pie out of the oven, and set it on a blue and white ceramic trivet. As she cut and served the dessert, still bubbling from the oven, a dollop of filling plopped onto her hand. She made the faintest of squeaks, not enough to disturb Einars and Bass, but Isaac noticed. Hell, he felt it. Without a word, he doused a towel in cold water and took her arm. He rubbed the spot to make sure the filling was washed off completely, then held the cool towel over the burn. He kept his eyes on the pale skin, luminescent in the firefly light, not wanting to make eye contact with her- afraid he wouldn't see his own feelings reflected in her face. Instead he focused on the smoothness of her skin, and the rose scent wafting and twining with the cinnamon. In the dim light, it was all too easy to forget they weren't alone.”
― Amy E. Reichert, The Simplicity of Cider

“Why won't you be friends with me?" To Cassandra's chagrin, the question came out plaintive, almost childish. She looked down and rearranged the folds of her skirts, fidgeting with the crystal beads.
"My lady," he murmured, but she refused to look at him. One of his hands came to the side of her face to angle it upward.
It was the first time he'd ever touched her.
His fingers were strong but gentle, slightly cool against her hot cheek, and it felt so amazingly good that she trembled. She couldn't move or speak, only stared up into his lean, slightly wolfish face. A trick of moonlight had turned his blue-green eyes iridescent.
"That you'd even ask..." His thumb brushed over her skin in a slow stroke, and her breath stopped and started too fast, sounding like a tiny hiccup. There was no mistaking the experience in his touch, sending pleasure-chills down the back of her neck and all along her spine. "Do you really want to be friends?" His voice had softened into dark velvet.
"Yes," she managed to say.
"No, you don't.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“... when you can’t read - or hear - the signs that tell you about a Person’s educational level or background, your attraction becomes above all physical. The result? It can be only too easy to get sexually involved with - and possibly married to - someone who when it fines to long-term relationships turns out to be totally unsuitable.”
― Sari Gilbert, My Home Sweet Rome: Living (and loving) in Italy's Eternal City

“Pulchritude is possibly the most vile standard ever set by the society to judge people. Nobody cares what's inside. Beauty depends on your complexion & the curves in your body. People are so invested in enhancing their looks that they forget to nurture the true beauty that lies under the skin. Physical beauty is temporary and paves the way for attracting short-lived attention mostly from those who worship lust. You'll never be conscious of your fugacious youth until the day you discover yourself loosing all the features you need to satisfy that evil standard. That day, you'll realize that the real "beautiful you" has always been deep inside. You'll finally be able to discern the difference between physical beauty and true beauty.”
― Rafsan Al Musawver

“Delicious shivers slid down her spine as she assessed his cool, sensual face. His eyes were the deepest shade of brown, dark like the forest floor she'd hidden on before she'd taken a chance to claim victory for her team. A hint of a cleft in his chin and full lips in a beautifully shaped mouth softened what might have otherwise been a severe expression. As his gaze raked up and down her body, her nipples tightened and she crossed her arms over her chest, silently thanking the '80s for her massive puffball sleeves.”
― Sara Desai, The Singles Table

“He stiffened and she realized that she'd pulled him close. She could feel the heat of his body against her skin, draw in his scent of cool dark forests and fresh mountain air. His pulse beat strong and steady beneath her fingertips, sending a current of electricity arcing through her veins.”
― Sara Desai, The Singles Table

“Instead of him savoring imminent victory, his mind swept back to the taste of her sauce on his tongue—woodsmoke and black pepper, sweet heat. Much better than he was giving her credit for.
But what knocked him flat was the smoothness of her finger—delicate, pliable, soft. So unlike her rigid poise, the angular cut of her high cheekbones. The slash of her pointed chin. Sharp edges that matched the cut of her words. Sharp edges at odds with the supple curve of her fingertip.
For a moment, when he’d slipped his mouth around her pinky, he’d felt a jolt. An awakening. An awareness that maybe the hardness on her outside didn’t match the woman inside.”
― Chandra Blumberg, Stirring Up Love

“She backed away from the boat. She started to flail in the mud, but before she could tumble backward, a set of strong arms braced around her.
"I have you," Naveen said. He was so close she could feel his warm breath against her ear. Tiana did her best to ignore the goose bumps pebbling up and down her skin, but she would have had a better chance of ignoring a fireworks display taking place on her front porch.”
― Farrah Rochon, Almost There

“He was still wearing the khaki pants, his more formal shirt now unbuttoned and a little askew, the sleeves rolled up just past his elbows. His dark hair hung over one eye, but I could see his gaze sweeping over me, taking me in. At least this time I wasn't wearing coffee-stained pajama pants. I'd put on what was essentially my uniform that morning--- black leggings, black T-shirt, my long hair in a messy bun, and winged eyeliner because fuck it why not.”
― Alicia Thompson, Love in the Time of Serial Killers

“He could feel the heat of her breath on his skin. Goose bumps prickled up his arms and neck. He was... inexplicably excited.
Even though Nina was arrogant and a know-it-all, that didn't stop the way his body responded to her. While--- logically--- he knew to keep as far away as possible, illogically, he was drawn to her. Despite her personality, she was still gorgeous--- all wavy dark hair and curves that made looking away difficult. Not to mention that sometimes when she got mad, he seemed to get... more turned on. So, yeah, he had some weird fetish for opinionated women, or something, and she happened to be exactly that. The fact that her hair always smelled like cinnamon, which made his treacherous, double-crossing impulses want to lean closer to catch a whiff, didn't help, either...”
― Erin La Rosa, For Butter or Worse

“Even with enormous sunglasses and a hoodie pulled over his head, she'd recognize that swoop of dark hair anywhere. And he'd either had time for a spray tan, or the warmth from the sun was hitting him just right to make his skin look as golden as the top of a crème brûlée.
She squinted, and he had the nerve to smile back.
She wasn't going to let him get her flustered, especially not at her own restaurant. Though how was it possible that he managed to fill out a hoodie this well? Like, who has muscles underneath bulky fabric? Leo did, because, of course, he'd be that guy.”
― Erin La Rosa, For Butter or Worse

“Leo was just outside the door, and he was shirtless. His arm flexed against the sleek white top of his dresser as he stared into the open drawer. He was clearly searching for a shirt, as his devil suit had mysteriously vanished.
And she just went ahead and stared at his arms, chest, shoulders and back, because that's what she wanted to do--- especially after the last glass of wine she'd had. She'd seen him shirtless once before, on their hike, so the sight of him shouldn't have felt so new, but it was like seeing him for the first time all over again. She let her gaze linger over how the muscles between his shoulder blades emphasized his strong back, and the tricep that flexed as he straightened his arm. A small, parched noise escaped her lips, and he looked up.
She coughed, trying to cover the sound.
Leo turned. "You're supposed to be in pajamas."
You're not supposed to look this fucking good.
"The problem is the dress. Not built for food or unzipping. I was wondering if you could, um..." She turned and motioned toward her back, where the zipper was.
When Leo stepped forward, his bare torso briefly brushed against her back. His skin was warm in contrast to the cool air, and goose bumps erupted across her arms in response. She hoped he wouldn't notice her body's reaction to being so close to him. At least he couldn't see that her gaze was fixed straight ahead, on the pesky bed nearby...
His fingers grasped the top of the zipper, and he pulled on it just enough that she stumbled back and against his chest. She muttered an apology under her breath as he slowly lowered the zipper down her back. His knuckle grazed the track of her spine, and his hand stopped at the bottom, just above her ass. She wondered if his eyes were roaming over her exposed skin. And he didn't move his fingers from the zipper right away, which made her feel like he wanted the back of his knuckle to stay exactly where it was. Neither of them moved. She was afraid that if she did, she'd break the fantasy of Leo, examining her--- of him potentially wanting more of her.
Eventually he leaned down, and the shadow of his beard scraped against her ear as he said, "All done.”
― Erin La Rosa, For Butter or Worse

“She was insightful, bringing up ideas for the gallery that I hadn't considered. Her knowledge of art was lacking, but her enthusiasm for the history behind it was bountiful as she showed me what she had worked on so far. And she was charming. The way she held her wrist when she ate, the way her eyes sparkled as she laughed. What kind of fae was she destined to become? Something warm and loving like her could fit in any of the courts. Something about that bothered me for reasons I couldn't pinpoint. Maybe I simply wanted to see her in my court for selfish reasons.”
― Sabrina Blackburry, Dirty Lying Faeries

“There was no denying my attraction to Thea before, but now it was so much more than a serendipitous encounter. It was a natural attraction ready to pull us together the moment she had enough of her own magic to give it life.
And she was stunning. Her general shape hadn't changed much. Her features had sharpened, and her ears came to a newly formed point. But her other new features were undeniably fae. Beautiful and elegant and uniquely hers. If I was attracted to her before, the bond was now making her entirely distracting to my senses.”
― Sabrina Blackburry, Dirty Lying Faeries

“Real physical perfection isn't something a guy like me gets to see up close and personal very often, and it's something to marvel at - then run away from, before it hypnotizes you like a snake staring into the eyes of something small, furry, and edible.”
― Charles Stross, The Concrete Jungle

“...we might try to assuage our loneliness and fears by sleeping with partners we don't love or respect -- sometimes men who won't even remember our names -- as we use sex addictively to fill the emotional hole. But we never walk away from sex Scott free. Sex is more personal to us than to men, and there's a reason for that. The results of preliminary research suggests that when we have orgasms, our bodies release oxytocin, the same chemical that's produced during breast-feeding, and that heightens feelings of bonding.

As [Niravi] Payne explains in The Language of Fertility, which is coauthored with Brenda Richardson, her work is based on research that validates thoughts and beliefs can affect functioning in cells, tissues and organs. In recent decades, scientists have learned that much of human perception is based not on information flowing into the brain from the external world, but on what the brain based on previous experience, expects to happen next. That means if we unconsciously believe that sex is "shameful" or something to be feared, that belief can be reflected in our reproductive organs by throwing our hormonal functioning, which regulates pregnancy, or in our immune system, which governs our ability to maintain a pregnancy, or even in our menstrual flow, which if malfunctioning can lead to fibroid tumors.

Like all feelings, sexual feelings are energy, and when energy is suppressed, it builds and burst out in destructive ways.

Clinical psychologist Darlene Powell Hopson has said she teaches her clients an invocation that in, part, she learned from fellow author Iyanla Vanzant: 'Dear God, I love you and being your child. You made me a sexual being and I want to experience closeness and fulfillment with my partner. My soul yearns for the pleasure and satisfaction of being spiritually and physically intimate with my partner....Please continue to remain with me and in me, forever.”
― Brenda Richardson, What Mama Couldn't Tell Us About Love: Healing the Emotional Legacy of Racism by Celebrating Our Light Paperback September 16, 2014

“He found Levon in the second studio on the right, talking with a delectable pastry of a girl standing at the top of a ladder. She was wearing a very short plaid skirt that made her look like a naughty Catholic schoolgirl. She reminded him of a cannoli, a voluptuous vanilla cream filling stuffed into a soft golden crust.”
― Helen Maryles Shankman, The Color of Light

“His hands graze her hips on either side, his dark eyes glued to her lips. "You know what your problem is?"
Eden's knees tremble as a wet heat pools between her legs. God, what is even happening right now? "What?" she rasps.
"You're too soft."
"What's wrong with being soft?"
Alexander's lips whisper across hers. It's not quite a kiss, but it's pretty damn close. She can feel his breath against her cheeks as he speaks, the tips of their noses bumping lightly against each other.”
― Katrina Kwan, Knives, Seasoning, & A Dash of Love

“Inspiration consists of two-sided communication. From one person, expression flows into sensitive ears, recognition to the eyes, tastes to the tongue, or as a scent to a nose. Information flows from the one who is touching to another being touched and into the mind of the recipient. This is communication.”
― Laura Bartnick, BEING CREATIVE