Bed Robe Quotes & Sayings

Vittoria slipped off her robe. 'You've never been to bed with a yoga master, have you? — Dan Brown

A fellow can't predict what he will pick up in the form of influence. — Saul Bellow

I'll be hurting elsewhere in a moment if I don't get you into bed right now." He chuckled as he laid her on the mattress. One hand clutching his robe, she tugged him downward.
"Then touch me, Nicholas. Make me burn like you did a few moments ago. I want you touching me, sucking on me...I want you to fuck me until neither one of us can move."
"Christ Jesus," he rasped at the lust echoing through her words. — Monica Burns

Okay, time to figure this out," Toby said, swaggering out of the bathroom in a hotel robe, his hair wet and his contacts swapped for glasses. "Who's bunking with whom?" Phoebe appeared in the doorway to the other room wearing a towel and flip-flops long enough to announce that she and Luke were sharing a bed in there. Sam and Austin looked at each other and shrugged. "I don't mind if you don't snore," Sam said. "Yeah, same." Austin shuffled past Toby and disappeared into the bathroom. "Either of you want a bed to yourself?" Toby — Robyn Schneider

So that's who you want me to be? The innocent, sweet, shy girl you say I was?" She stormed over to the bed and snatched up the robe again. "Because I can't be her. I can't be anything but me. I love you, but I won't change who I am for anyone." She tied the robe around her waist and spread her arms wide. "This is me. You either love me for who I am, or you find someone else to love. — Larissa Ione

On the hob was a little brass kettle, hissing and boiling; spread upon the floor was a warm, thick rug; before the fire was a folding-chair, unfolded and with cushions on it; by the chair was a small folding-table, unfolded, covered with a white cloth, and upon it were spread small covered dishes, a cup and saucer, and a tea-pot; on the bed were new, warm coverings, a curious wadded silk robe, and some books. The little, cold, miserable room seemed changed into Fairyland. It was actually warm and glowing. — Frances Hodgson Burnett

James reared up from his bed and threw himself into Uncle Jem's arms. He had heard some people found the Silent Brothers frightening, with their silent speech and their stitched eyes, but to him the sight of a Silent Brother's robe always meant Uncle Jem, always meant steadfast love. — Cassandra Clare

Scotty, what's wrong?" For a moment, Scott ignored the sleepy, querulous voice of the man occupying the other half of his bed. Then he turned back from the window to look at the guy whose name he couldn't remember for the life of him and said, "Nothing, just a nightmare. Sorry. Go back to sleep." "Maybe I don't want to sleep now," the man pouted. Scott shrugged. "Then get dressed and go home. Makes me no nevermind." "Well, I never," the man huffed. "I guess I might as well. Looks like nothing more's going to be happening here." With a shrug, Scott grabbed his robe then put it on as he strode out of the bedroom. When he was downstairs in the kitchen, he started a pot of coffee, sighing — Edward Kendrick

The bed woke Kali up with a soft caress, dressed her in her favorite comfy robe, and gently deposited her, standing vertically, in one-sixth gravity. — @hg47

[Daemon's] arms tightened, drew her closer as his hand stroked up and down her back, just for the simple pleasure of it. She sighed. The tension in her muscles eased a bit, and she rested against him more fully.
He wasn't thinking of seduction when his hands began to wander over her - or when her hands hesitantly stroked him.
He wasn't thinking of seduction when his body delighted in how different the silky skin of her neck felt under his mouth compared to the robe beneath his hands.
He wasn't thinking of sex when he opened his robe and then hers so that only that film of spidersilk separated skin from skin. Or when even the spidersilk no longer separated them.
He wasn't thinking of sex when his mouth settled over hers and he sent them both sliding into dark, hot desire. And by the time he found himself in bed, listening to her purr with pleasure while he moved inside her, he wasn't able to think at all. — Anne Bishop

It's unrealistic to think that the future of humanity can be achieved only on the basis of prayer; what we need is to take action. — Dalai Lama

I've skimmed through it a dozen times, the book glued to my side the past few days, like maybe the information will sink in through osmosis. — J.M. Darhower

Love may be or it may not, but where it is, it ought to reveal itself in its immensity. — Honore De Balzac

The girl stood in the center of the large four-poster bed. She wore a nightgown and robe that Cordelia had generously, and unknowingly, donated. Anything of Emily's would have been far too short and too small. Her honey-colored hair fell over her shoulders in messy waves and her similarly colored eyes were almost black with wildness, her pupils unnaturally dilated.
Fear. He felt it roll off her in great waves. It shimmered around her in a rich red aura Griff knew he alone could see, as it was viewable only on the Aetheric plane. She was afraid of them and, like a trapped animal, her answer to fear was to fight rather than flee. Interesting.
She was certainly a sight to behold. Normally she was probably quite pretty, but right now she was ... she was ...
She was bloody magnificent. That's what she was. Except for the blood, of course. — Kady Cross

Lily opened her hand and looked at her three willstones. Rowan had been right. She was changed forever.
Lily sat up and saw a glass of water on the bedside table. A tiny card was propped up against it. It said, THIRSTY? in bold uppercase letters. Lily realized that she'd never seen Rowan's handwriting before. She stared at it, sipping her water, memorizing every swoop and curve.
She swung her legs out of bed and noticed that she'd somehow struggled out of his robe while she slept. Rowan had left a stack of clothes on the floor next to her, with its own accompanying card that read NAKED? Lily laughed quietly to herself ... — Josephine Angelini

I grew up hoping that my father might win a Nobel Prize. — Bruce Beutler