Best Love Scenes in Books: Best Declarations and Proposals in Classic Literature
Best Love Scenes in Books: Best Declarations and Proposals in Contemporary Literature
Best Love Scenes in Books: Best First Kisses
Best Love Scenes in Books: Best Consent & Communication
Best Love Scenes in Books: Sexiest Sexytimes
Special Category: Best Bad Sex
Were these 22 love scenes not enough for you? You might like the best love story books or these nonfiction books about love. “You must be tired. Rest a little, and let me row. It will do me good, for since you came I have been altogether lazy and luxurious.”“I’m not tired, but you may take an oar, if you like. There’s room enough, though I have to sit nearly in the middle, else the boat won’t trim,” returned Laurie, as if he rather liked the arrangement.Feeling that she had not mended matters much, Amy took the offered third of a seat, shook her hair over her face, and accepted an oar. She rowed as well as she did many other things, and though she used both hands, and Laurie but one, the oars kept time, and the boat went smoothly through the water.“How well we pull together, don’t we?” said Amy, who objected to silence just then.“So well that I wish we might always pull in the same boat. Will you, Amy?” very tenderly.“Yes, Laurie,” very low.Then they both stopped rowing, and unconsciously added a pretty little tableau of human love and happiness to the dissolving views reflected in the lake. Okay, so this was actually a terrible proposal other than these sentences. Darcy was far too caught up in his pride (and/or prejudice) to just say he liked Lizzie and not insult her family. It was a total bust and she denied him, as she should (“I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly”). But the WORDING is just a DELIGHT. I know for a fact that my husband ardently admires and loves me, but if he ever said so in as many words I would simply melt on the spot. Frederick Wentworth’s letter to Anne Elliot is so romantic I had to lie down after I copied this over: “I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you.” This is another proposal that is ultimately a disaster — Rochester has not only lead Jane to believe he intends to marry Miss Ingram, but he is in fact already married — but oh, the beautiful words! “Margaret!”For an instant she looked up; and then sought to veil her luminous eyes by dropping her forehead on her hands. Again, stepping nearer, he besought her with another tremulous eager call upon her name.“Margaret!”Still lower went the head; more closely hidden was the face, almost resting on the table before her. He came close to her. He knelt by her side, to bring his face to a level with her ear; and whispered — panted out the words:—“Take care. — If you do not speak — I shall claim you as my own in some strange presumptuous way. — Send me away at once, if I must go; — Margaret!—”At that third call she turned her face, still covered with her small white hands, towards him, and laid it on his shoulder, even hiding it there; and it was too delicious to feel her soft cheek against his, for him to wish to see either deep blushes or loving eyes. He clasped her close. But they both kept silence. At length she murmured in a broken voice:“Oh, Mr. Thornton, I am not good enough!”“Not good enough! Don’t mock my own deep feeling of unworthiness.”After a minute or two he gently disengaged her hands from her face, and laid her arms as they had once before been placed to protect him from the rioters.“Do you remember, love?” he murmured. “And how I requited you with my insolence the next day?”“I remember how wrongly I spoke to you, — that is all.”“Look here! Lift up your head. I have something to show you!” She slowly faced him, glowing with beautiful shame.“Do you know these roses?” he said, drawing out his pocket-book, in which were treasured up some dead flowers.“No!” she replied, with innocent curiosity. “Did I give them to you?”“No! Vanity; you did not. You may have worn sister roses very probably.”She looked at them, wondering for a minute, then she smiled a little as she said—“They are from Helstone, are they not? I know the deep indentations round the leaves. Oh! have you been there? When were you there?”“I wanted to see the place where Margaret grew to what she is, even at the worst time of all, when I had no hope of ever calling her mine. I went there on my return from Havre.”“You must give them to me,” she said, trying to take them out of his hand with gentle violence.“Very well. Only you must pay me for them!”“How shall I ever tell Aunt Shaw?” she whispered, after some time of delicious silence. “I know that this would all be easier if I didn’t have my — predicament, if I could pack my bags and go with you. I know this is burdensome.” He held her chin steady and looked at her hard. “Nothing about you is burdensome,” he said, his voice rough. “Do you hear me? You are clever and kind and”— he broke off to kiss her, clumsy and fierce —“you’re sunshine. Meeting you is the best thing that’s happened to me, and every time I see you I love you more. I’m going to take you on whatever terms I can get you. Separate houses, separate towns, marriage, no marriage.” His arm tightened around her. “Just so you know.” He was likely about to do something he’d deeply regret. She began pushing her way through the crowd. “Portia Hobbs,” he said, and both her name and the reverence with which he said it stopped her again. “Portia Hobbs first came into my life as my apprentice at the Bodotria Armory. She then became an aide as I took on a new chapter in my life — becoming a duke. Despite being treated poorly by a great many of the supposed reporters before me, Portia is competent, intelligent, kind, and beautiful, but above all that, she is the woman I love.” “Oh shit,” Portia said, and the reporter beside her glanced her way. Her phone was vibrating incessantly in her hand, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Tavish. “What are you doing, mate?” a reporter asked. “I mean, Your Grace?” “I’m publicly declaring my love for someone who was hurt because of me and by me.”“He’s groveling,” the Queen said with just the right amount of royal contempt, then turned a kinder gaze onto Tav. “Go on.” “Right. Portia, I would like to say, for posterity, that I was the fuck-up here. I thought I could protect you—” […]“—I did what I did because I thought to protect you, but I didn’t bother to ask if you wanted to be protected, or how. So. That’s about it, Freckles. “I don’t expect her to take me back, but everyone should know that nothing a paper says, nothing about her past, could change the fact that I love Portia Hobbs. Right. Um, you can stop videoing now. Thank you.”He crossed his arms over his chest and stood awkwardly, but his hands dropped to his side as he caught sight of Portia pushing past the reporters.“Bloody hell. You’re here?” Henry bites his lip, waits a beat, and opens his mouth again. “I’d date more, probably, as well.” Alex can’t help laughing again. “Right, because it’s so hard to get a date when you’re a prince.” Henry cuts his eyes back down to Alex. “You’d be surprised.” “How? You’re not exactly lacking for options.” Henry keeps looking at him, holding his gaze for two seconds too long. “The options I’d like…” he says, dragging the words out. “They don’t quite seem to be options at all.” Alex blinks. “What?” “I’m saying that I have…people…who interest me,” Henry says, turning his body toward Alex now, speaking with a fumbling pointedness, as if it means something. “But I shouldn’t pursue them. At least not in my position.” Are they too drunk to communicate in English? He wonders distantly if Henry knows any Spanish. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Alex says. “You don’t?” “No.” “You really don’t?” “I really, really don’t.” Henry’s whole face grimaces in frustration, his eyes casting skyward like they’re searching for help from an uncaring universe. “Christ, you are as thick as it gets,” he says, and he grabs Alex’s face in both hands and kisses him. “Or”— he looked straight down into her eyes —“you could stay.” A question was in his eyes, and a smile hovered over his lips. His thumb drew slow circles on her hip and then moved up her side to her ribs. His other hand moved up to her face and traced the outline of her lips with his fingers. She shivered. He waited. “Or,” she said, “I could stay.” He pulled her against him and kissed her. Their lips clung together softly at first, then with more urgency. He tasted like bourbon and chocolate cake and everything she’d ever craved. She sighed against his lips and murmured his name, and she could feel his smile. Her hands moved into his hair, that hair that she’d been wanting to touch all night, and he kissed her harder. His hand cupped her cheek, and the gentle touch on her skin as she felt the heat of his mouth had her nerve endings on fire. Would she regret him, after tonight? Would she see him as a failed plan, a thing she couldn’t control and wanted nothing to do with? Would she leave him, and everything wonderful growing between them, behind? He couldn’t let that happen. But he couldn’t let this moment pass, either. “I’m going to ask you something,” he said softly, studying her face — the V between her eyebrows, the heat in her eyes, the vulnerable flash of pink inside her mouth, revealed by her parted lips. He wanted that mouth. He wanted that vulnerability. “I’m going to ask you, and I don’t want you to worry about anything. Not a fucking thing, Chlo. We’re friends. This doesn’t have to be complicated. I’m not going to make it complicated. Okay?” He heard her breath hitch slightly as she nodded. “Okay,” she said softly. “Okay. So ask.” “Should I make you moan again?” Her answer was so fucking sweet. “Please.” Every single moment of this book makes me swoon, but this moment? The very swooniest. He visibly unsoftened. “You really do think I’m a god-awful prude, don’t you?” “Yes. No. Maybe.” Oh God. How could I make this sound less…messed up and needy. “I’m just not used to a hookup being a big deal, so it feels kind of personal that you keep refusing to shag me.” “What do you mean, keep?” “Bridget’s birthday. Couple of years ago. We nearly got together, but instead, you pissed off and left me.” He gazed at me with obvious incredulity. “Sorry, are you insulted that I didn’t date-rape you?” “You what?” I gave him a shocked look back. “I remember that evening, and you were completely out of it. I don’t think you knew who I was, much less what you were doing.” “For fuck’s sake,” I snapped. “I’ve had a lot of drunk sex. I’d have been fine.” “Oh, Lucien, how can I explain this?” For some reason, he sounded sad. “I don’t want fine. Fine isn’t enough. It’s not about the open fire or whatever other clichés you can conjure up, but yes, I want a connection. I want you to care as much as I care. I want you to need it and want it and mean it. I want it to matter.” His fingers flirted with the hem of her sweater. “Can I touch you?” “Anywhere.” He licked the rim of her ear. “Anywhere? Really?” “Really.” Twisting her neck, she pulled his mouth to hers for a brief, wet kiss, sucking his tongue until his vision turned white around the edges. She let out a choked sound, and he paused. “Okay?” “Yes.” Her hips tipped, pressing her tighter against his hand. “Please.” He lifted his head for a moment, raising himself up on his arms enough to make eye contact, and she groaned at the sudden absence of that incredibly talented tongue. “Everything okay?” His mouth was wet with her, his pupils wide and dark. “If I do something you don’t like, just tell me. Or if you want me to stop—” Leaning forward, she tucked her hair behind her ears and petted his dampening chest. “Everything okay?” Gus didn’t quite understand the word. It was too long. Far too long for Scrabble. His mind didn’t quite get it. It was still a little foggy. Casey looked nervous. He was even blushing a little. Gus looked back down at the word. There was a C and A and N, then I, K, I, S,S— Gus got it then. Not one word. But four. CAN. I. KISS. YOU. At this point they decide to hug first. Then… Casey pulled away first, but he didn’t go far. He said, “I’m going to kiss you.” Gus swallowed thickly. “Okay.” “Just…no tongue or anything.” Casey looked away briefly. “Is that okay?” “Yeah. Yes. That’s fine. That’s more than fine. It’s awesome.” “And I don’t like a lot of…movement. Not right now. Just nice kisses. With lips.” “Yes. No movement. None. I’m a statue. That you’re going to kiss.” Casey laughed. “Maybe a little movement.” “Okay, but I don’t—” Casey kissed him. “On top of the clothes stuff only.”“Do panties count as clothes?”“I don’t know. Yes.”“Sweet.” Before she could lose her nerve, Georgie wiggled the skirt down over her hips and nudged it aside, feeling her face turn pink but staunchly ignoring it. “I’m ready.”The world tilted when Travis picked her up by the waist, tossing her into the center of the bed like she weighed less than a feather. He crawled slowly up her body. “No. You aren’t.”“I lie corrected,” she breathed. Oh my goddddddd these two idiots spend SO much time in love and not admitting it. It’s so goddamn satisfying when they do. Agatha shuddered, arching her back, her long hair falling like a curtain around both of them, her hips working as Penelope toyed with her. Penelope flung the blankets back, the better to watch. She wanted to remember every bit of this — every sight and sound, each gasp and groan — because it was the first time, and whenever there was a first time, there would be a last time, too.She shoved that thought aside; it could wait until the morning.Agatha’s hips rocked faster, matching Penelope’s rhythm. The storm gathering in her body grew stronger with each indrawn breath. “Rhine,” she cried helplessly. “Go ahead, darling, let it come, baby. I have you.” Her legs widened, his wicked fingers continued to bestow their enthralling magic. Suddenly, the storm broke, crackling through her body like summer lightning, and she was flung to the stars, hoarsely screaming his name. Eddy didn’t know how much time had passed, but when she opened her eyes he was smiling down. Still breathless, she asked, “What in heaven’s name was that?” “An orgasm. When your body can’t hold any more pleasure it explodes sort of like black powder. Did you enjoy it?” Embarrassment heated her cheeks and she turned away. When she tried to move, though, Marcus’s hand snapped against her ass. The smack only drove her passion higher. “Please!”A low chuckle resounded from Marcus’s chest where it pressed against her back. “You’re such a bad girl, Devi. What are we going to do with you?”Her head tossed. She goes limp against him though her frame continues to quiver, and he slouches back against the chair, wrapping his arms around her.His hoarse laugh tickles her neck. “I think the whole casino heard you.”“Me?” She scoffs, peering out of one eye although she doesn’t have the strength to raise her head enough to see him. “You were loud as fuck too.” “You still like it a little rough? Just a little bit of teeth.” She inhaled, like she was looking for a scent in the air. “I’m feeling really fucking reckless right now, Juan Pablo.” Groans and moans were my mother tongue now. I wanted her to take me all the way out of my head like I knew she could. Like she always did. “Pris, fuck.” I was begging, and I would keep doing it too. She sat upright and stared at the door to the bathroom as her skin went cold. He was really done. He’d enjoyed himself, and now he was showering her off. It hadn’t even been a minute since he’d finished. Her lips were still wet from his kisses. And from Khai’s perspective, the next morning: He sat up, put his feet to the floor, and speared his fingers through his short hair. He’d slept like the dead — great sex probably did that — but everything felt off today. The walls were too gray, the room too dingy, his bed too big.
