Teasing 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

“We're leaving," I told her one July afternoon.

"We? You and I? Where are we going, young Master Paul? Do you have your belongings tied up in a red-spotted handkerchief on a stick?”
― Julian Barnes, The Only Story

“I think I know more about you at age seven than you do," Henri teased.
"Do you, now?" she asked, happy he couldn't see her blushing since she sat in front of him on their steed.
"Yes," he said confidently. "I know you always preferred the colors blue and yellow to any other. You were excellent at hide-and-seek. You hated cold porridge, and my personal favorite- you named every horse in the royal stables and liked to put bows on them when allowed."
She colored some more and burst out laughing. This she did not remember! "I did not! Did I?"
Henri laughed, too. "Apparently you did, driving the royal seamstress crazy with your requests for ribbons and bows for the royal steeds.”
― Jen Calonita, Mirror, Mirror

“There was also a package wrapped in pale blue paper and tied with a matching ribbon. Picking up a small folded note that had been tucked under the ribbon, Beatrix read:

A gift for your wedding night, darling Bea. This gown was made by the most fashionable modiste in London. It is rather different from the ones you usually wear, but it will be very pleasing to a bridegroom. Trust me about this.
-Poppy

Holding the nightgown up, Beatrix saw that it was made of black gossamer and fastened with tiny jet buttons. Since the only nightgowns she had ever worn had been of modest white cambric or muslin, this was rather shocking. However, if it was what husbands liked...
After removing her corset and her other underpinnings, Beatrix drew the gown over her head and let a slither over her body in a cool, silky drift. The thin fabric draped closely over her shoulders and torso and buttoned at the waist before flowing to the ground in transparent panels. A side slit went up to her hip, exposing her leg when she moved. And her back was shockingly exposed, the gown dipping low against her spine. Pulling the pins and combs from her hair, she dropped them into the muslin bag in the trunk.
Tentatively she emerged from behind the screen.
Christopher had just finished pouring two glasses of champagne. He turned toward her and froze, except for his gaze, which traveled over her in a burning sweep. "My God," he muttered, and drained his champagne. Setting the empty glass aside, he gripped the other as if he were afraid it might slip through his fingers.
"Do you like my nightgown?" Beatrix asked.
Christopher nodded, not taking his gaze from her. "Where's the rest of it?"
"This was all I could find." Unable to resist teasing him, Beatrix twisted and tried to see the back view. "I wonder if I put it on backward..."
"Let me see." As she turned to reveal the naked line of her back, Christopher drew in a harsh breath.
Although Beatrix heard him mumble a curse, she didn't take offense, deducing that Poppy had been right about the nightgown. And when he drained the second glass of champagne, forgetting that it was hers, Beatrix sternly repressed a grin. She went to the bed and climbed onto the mattress, relishing the billowy softness of its quilts and linens. Reclining on her side, she made no attempt to cover her exposed leg as the gossamer fabric fell open to her hip.
Christopher came to her, stripping off his shirt along the way. The sight of him, all that flexing muscle and sun-glazed skin, was breathtaking. He was a beautiful man, a scarred Apollo, a dream lover. And he was hers.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Mr. Crawen," Tabitha said casually, "we brung a new girl for ye to try out. She's been waiting to give ye a little knock."
Eyebrows were raised and a few glances exchanged across the table, for the prostitutes usually knew better than to intrude on a game.
Derek gave Tabitha a quizzical frown. "Tell her I don't tumble the house wenches." He turned away dismissively.
Tabitha persisted with glee. "But she's a nice, fresh one. Why don't you take a look?" Giggling, the wenches brought Sara forth. She was flushing and protesting, trying to remove the spangled tuft of of plumes they had tucked behind her ear.
Derek laughed suddenly, his expression lightening. He pulled Sara into the crook of his arm. "This one I'll take," he murmured, bending to kiss her temple.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Dreaming of You

“Minutes later, as they lay tangled together, dazed in the aftermath of their loving, Callie began to chuckle silently against Gabriel's side. Lifting his head to find her grinning a wide, silly grin, he drawled, "What is it that has you so amused, lovely?"
"I was simply thinking"- she stopped to catch her breath from the laughter and started again- "I was merely thinking that if that is what riding astride is like, the female population is missing out on one of life's finer experiences." The last word was lost as she dissolved once more onto giggles.
He caught her against him in a fierce hug and sighed, unable to keep himself from smiling up at the ceiling as he said, "You know, Empress, men do not appreciate laughter at this particular moment. It's devastating to the self-confidence."
Her head snapped up and she took in his amused countenance. "Oh, my apologies, good sir," she teased. "I would hate to damage such a fragile ego as that of the Marquess of Ralston."
With a playful growl, he pinned her to the mattress. "Minx. You shall pay for that." And he began to kiss down the side of her neck, nibbling across her collarbone until she sighed with pleasure.
"If this is how I must pay for it, my lord, you may guarantee I shall tease you a great deal in the coming months."
"More than months, I hope," he drawled, distracted by her lovely white breasts. "Years. Decades even."
"Decades," she repeated, awestruck. My God. He's going to be my husband.
"Mmm-hmm," he murmured against her skin before pulling away from her. "Which is why, despite how very difficult it shall be for me to leave you warm and lush in your bed, I shall console myself with the fact that, very soon, I shan't have to do so ever again.”
― Sarah MacLean, Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake

“Tell me the answer," he commanded.
Cassandra crinkled her nose adorably. "I don't think so. I'll let you discover it for yourself."
Tom kept his face expressionless, while inside he was dissolving in a feeling he'd never known before. It was similar to drinking champagne- one of his favorite things- while balancing on the steel framework of an elevated railway bridge- one of his least favorite things.
"You're not as sweet as everyone thinks you are," he said darkly.
"I know.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Teasing a person is to hide your weakness and betraying a person is to hide his strength”
― P.S. Jagadeesh Kumar

“The child shifted and stretched, then at last her eyelids fluttered open. She had kicked off the blanket in the night and Helen felt a small smile come as she looked at the girl, buried in the nightgown that was three times too big.

“Look at you.” Helen let the smile spread a bit. “You’re like a person, but smaller.” She remembered how her brother Paul would tell her the same thing as he leaned against her head. Then Will would chime in as though to stick up for her, saying you had to hand it to short people—because they generally couldn’t reach “it” themselves.

How strange, it seemed in that moment, that all their stories started here, that they’d had years of teasing and banter and laughter, then had grown and life took them to where they were now. All that laughter was gone.”
― Corinne Beenfield, The Ocean's Daughter :

“I'm actually not a vegetarian." Layla's words tumbled over one another like she'd forgotten how to use her tongue. "I like meat. Love it, in fact. I have meat every day. I pretty much grew up in my parents' restaurant and they serve meat. Which I like eating. Lamb, chicken, beef..."
"I think she's trying to say she's carnivorous," Sam said, biting back his laughter. "Don't make any sudden moves or she might think you're prey.”
― Sara Desai, The Marriage Game

“I suffer under no illusions as to the physical or the emotional effects of aging."
"Now who sounds like he's old enough for some performance-enhancing drugs?"
Sam gave an affronted sniff. "I have never-"
"I'm just teasing, Sam." She wiggled her fingers. "You're always so serious, it makes you an easy target.”
― Sara Desai, The Marriage Game

“Not everyone will share your liberal views, so you might want to keep comments of a sexual nature to a minimum."
Layla laughed. "If you think doing it in the shower is liberal, I'll definitely never tell you what I got up to when I found a three-foot-high can of whipped cream at Costco and asked the New York Dolphins men's water polo team to help me carry it home."
"I didn't want to know that." Sam's jaw tightened. "And I suspect Faroz didn't, either."
"I'm joking, Sam. Lighten up. My apartment wasn't big enough to hold all of them at once.”
― Sara Desai, The Marriage Game

“Sometimes it's not self-evident whether a remark is truly meant to be hurtful or meant in the spirit of friendly teasing (or ambiguous or both at once). Between women and men, teasing is risky because playful insults are a common way of showing affection among boys and men but less so for most women—at least most American women. My husband tells me that one of the first things he learned about me was that he had to curb his impulse to tease me because I would be hurt rather than touched.”
― Deborah Tannen, You Just Don't Understand: Women and Men in Conversation

“As much as Milly loved seeing Asa on that tractor, a part of her dreaded the days he came to mow, not only because her father made her go out to him with cookies and lemonade and watched her closely the entire time, but also because on those nights, Bett and Twiss would trick her into talking about Asa, and Milly would fall for their tricks. Milly understood Twiss's reasons for teasing her- Twiss didn't want to lose her- but she never understood Bett's.
Bett would start innocently enough. "I heard Milly was talking to someone in the meadow the other day. I heard she baked him a red velvet cake shaped like a heart."
"I heard she did more than that," Twiss would say.
"With Mr. Peterson."
"She likes them old, yep, she does."
"Wrinkly," Bett would say.
"Hairy."
"Pruney!"
When Milly could no longer stand the teasing, she'd pull her blanket over her head and say, "It wasn't Mr. Peterson I was talking to, it was Asa! And it wasn't red velvet cake, it was butter cookies! They weren't shaped like hearts, either!"
And then the laughter would come, and Milly would know she'd been fooled into giving up another part of herself that she preferred to keep secret. The night she first told them about how much she admired Asa's work ethic (when she really just meant him), Bett and Twiss had made fun of her, and of Asa's slight stutter.
"M-M-May I eat one of your cookies?"
"Y-Y-Yes, you may."
"M-M-May I love you like coconut flakes?"
"L-L-Love me like coconut flakes, you may."
They laughed when they said the word "love," but that was the word Milly had begun to think about- the possibility of it- whenever she was with Asa and, even more often, when she was without him. The word was with her when she pinned clothes to the line, or scrubbed the linoleum, or baked a pie. Sometimes, when no one was looking, she'd trace an A into a well of flour or hold a mop as though she were holding Asa's hand.”
― Rebecca Rasmussen, The Bird Sisters

“Stop this. You're amusing yourself at my expense, as usual. You are a dissipated scoundrel, an unprincipled cad, and-"
"Don't forget 'lecherous libertine,'" he said. "That's one of my favorites."
"Get out!"
He pushed away lazily from the dressing table. "All right. I'll go. Obviously you fear that if I stay, you won't be able to control your desire for me."
"The only desire I have for you," she said, "involves maiming and dismemberment."
Leo grinned and went to the door. Pausing at the threshold, he glanced over his shoulder. "Your spectacles are fogging again," he said helpfully, and slipped through the door before she could find something to throw.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Married by Morning

“You forgot the magic word.
Fuck you.”
― Sabrina Elkins, Stir Me Up

“He took great pleasure in teasing her; he’d decided that Bee was no name for a person, and that it must just be the first letter of her real name. So every time he came in, he addressed her by a new and awful name that started with B.”
― Diane Zahler, Baker's Magic

“Look, Madeline," Lady Gertrude said, "everyone's gaping at you!"
"I know." The future duchess stared straight ahead, her shoulders stiff, her back straight.
Never had Remington seen a woman less comfortable with her own distinction. Never had he enjoyed the success of his own plan quite so much. The ton adored only one thing more than a romance, and that was a scandal. He had- and would- give them both. "Maybe it's because of your hair," he murmured.
Madeline shot him a glare.”
― Christina Dodd, One Kiss From You

“You're welcome to try”
― Joely Sue Burkhart

“I jokingly asked if his friends teased him for being a feather thief, but his face clouded at the word thief.

“I try to refrain from certain words,” he said. “Thief is one of them. This is going to sound very strange, but I don’t feel like a thief.”
― Kirk Wallace Johnson, The Feather Thief

“You again?"
I glanced to my left and there was Ryker. I almost laughed at the irony. Pretty soon he’d think I was running into him on purpose. “What’s his name?” I asked, jerking my chin toward his dark bay charger sporting white socks.
“Napoleon,” he said, which surprised me. His response almost sounded human. “And don’t get too close to him. He bites.”
I rolled my eyes. That was more like him. “Oh, that’s okay. I bite back.” I could have sworn his lips twitched into what appeared to be a grin.”
― Becky Moynihan, Reactive

“What a pleasant gentleman," Sophia remarked.
"Yes," Eliza agreed with a chuckle, "and Dr. Linley is unmarried as well. Many fine ladies in London want his services, both professional and personal. Whoever brings him to scratch will be a lucky woman."
"What do you mean by personal services?" Sophia asked, perplexed. "Surely you are not referring to-"
"Oh, yes," the cook-maid said slyly. "They say Dr. Linley is skilled in the bedroom arts as well as-"
"Eliza," Sir Ross interrupted grumpily, "if you must engage in prurient gossip, please do it in a room where I am not forced to listen." He scowled at both women, his gaze settling on Sophia. "Surely there is something better for the two of you to discuss than 'bedroom arts'."
Sophia's laughing gaze met Eliza's. "He is quite right," she said. "We should not lower ourselves to gossip in front of Sir Ross." She paused before adding mischievously, "You can tell me the rest about Dr. Linley when we're in the kitchen.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Lady Sophia's Lover

“Opening the lid, Beatrix found her neatly folded clothes and a drawstring muslin bag containing a brush and a rack of hairpins, and other small necessities. There was also a package wrapped in pale blue paper and tied with a matching ribbon. Picking up a small folded note that had been tucked under the ribbon, Beatrix read:

A gift for your wedding night, darling Bea. This gown was made by the most fashionable modiste in London. It is rather different from the ones you usually wear, but it will be very pleasing to a bridegroom. Trust me about this.
-Poppy

Holding the nightgown up, Beatrix saw that it was made of black gossamer and fastened with tiny jet buttons. Since the only nightgowns she had ever worn had been of modest white cambric or muslin, this was rather shocking. However, if it was what husbands liked...
After removing her corset and her other underpinnings, Beatrix drew the gown over her head and let a slither over her body in a cool, silky drift. The thin fabric draped closely over her shoulders and torso and buttoned at the waist before flowing to the ground in transparent panels. A side slit went up to her hip, exposing her leg when she moved. And her back was shockingly exposed, the gown dipping low against her spine. Pulling the pins and combs from her hair, she dropped them into the muslin bag in the trunk.
Tentatively she emerged from behind the screen.
Christopher had just finished pouring two glasses of champagne. He turned toward her and froze, except for his gaze, which traveled over her in a burning sweep. "My God," he muttered, and drained his champagne. Setting the empty glass aside, he gripped the other as if he were afraid it might slip through his fingers.
"Do you like my nightgown?" Beatrix asked.
Christopher nodded, not taking his gaze from her. "Where's the rest of it?"
"This was all I could find." Unable to resist teasing him, Beatrix twisted and tried to see the back view. "I wonder if I put it on backward..."
"Let me see." As she turned to reveal the naked line of her back, Christopher drew in a harsh breath.
Although Beatrix heard him mumble a curse, she didn't take offense, deducing that Poppy had been right about the nightgown. And when he drained the second glass of champagne, forgetting that it was hers, Beatrix sternly repressed a grin. She went to the bed and climbed onto the mattress, relishing the billowy softness of its quilts and linens. Reclining on her side, she made no attempt to cover her exposed leg as the gossamer fabric fell open to her hip.
Christopher came to her, stripping off his shirt along the way. The sight of him, all that flexing muscle and sun-glazed skin, was breathtaking. He was a beautiful man, a scarred Apollo, a dream lover. And he was hers.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Sister Agnes knew if she told you, you’d run off and do what you’re doing now.”

“Search for treasure?”

“Get into trouble.”
I laughed.

Edmund smiled over his shoulder. “I’m serious.”

“We shall not get into trouble. I promise.”

“If I had a piece of silver for every time you’ve told me that, I’d be a rich man.”

“I am not at fault for the decision to roll in poison oak.”

“I suppose getting stuck up in the giant sequoia wasn’t your fault either?”
― Jody Hedlund, Foremost

“Enough," she said, putting a finger on Guy's lips. He opened his mouth and bit it lightly, then began teasing the end of it with his tongue.
"Stop it!" she exclaimed, pulling it out and wiping it on his shirt. "You are the limit, Guy Webber, do you know that?”
― Maggie Alderson, The Scent of You

“How's being in love with your middle brother's girlfriend going?”
― Mike Gayle, The Importance of Being a Bachelor

“Poor baby,” Jett called over to him. “You can come sit in my lap.”
Renn flashed a grin. “You can sit in mine and come.”
― Katherine McIntyre, Tempting Ballad

“Digging through trash, really? That’s low, even for you Elliot,” I tease.”
― Krystalle Bianca, Perfectly Fractured (The Imperfect, #1).

“A laugh exploded from her throat. “One time. One time when I was sixteen, you asshole!”
“One time is significant when setting fires to the kitchen,” Sky commented, drawing plates from her cupboards with a clink. “I’ve never done it.”
― Katherine McIntyre, Confined Desires

“Roxie arched a brow. “I think I’m familiar with mortifying, doll. Remember, I’m driving my mother to prison tomorrow.”
“Ah, that old chestnut,” Mel teased back, trying to cling to her composure.”
― Katherine McIntyre, Strength Check