Longing Look Novels & Stories

He found a silk gown. He had it custom-tailored for her when she turned eighteen. After all, some bit of grandeur was needed for a woman's coming-of-age ceremony. He remembered how youthful she had been that day. She still had an innocent look on her face, and she had not dared to meet his eyes. Time really flew. Without him even noticing it, those memories had faded away. He brought the gown to his nose and felt as if he could still smell Aqua’s scent. John’s mind wandered for a moment.

Theo. He didn’t move closer, didn’t call out. He just stood there, watching her quietly, like he’d been doing it for a while. She wanted to run to him to scream, to cry, to demand why he kept showing up only to pull away. But something about the look in his eyes stopped her. It wasn’t guilt. It wasn’t fear. It was longing. He raised a hand slightly, almost a wave, then turned to go. Jasmine’s heart ached as she watched him disappear into the dark.

A sexy man, one who I didn’t want to take my hands off of. He continued smiling and gazing into my eyes as we danced, the eye contact as intimate as the closeness of our hips. My body ached for him in a primal way, a way that transcended words and appearances and ridiculous surrogacy contracts. It was the longing that had existed between humans as long as there had been humans. A screaming urgency in the back of my head that said one thing in big, bold letters: MATE, WITH THIS MAN.

SERAPHINE I watched the look cross his face, and it wasn't simply surprise. It was longing, raw and unguarded, the particular look of a man staring at something he'd convinced himself he'd lost for good, priceless and impossible and standing right in front of him regardless. I watched the shape his mouth made around my name, the stutter catching halfway through the second syllable, and that alone told me everything I needed to know about how badly the silence had worn on him this past week.

“What do you mean?” He leaned forward just a little, enough that the glasshouse and all its glory around us shrank smaller till all that mattered was the man seated opposite me The way he looked at me was with awe and reverence. “What I mean Darling, is that for a very long time, I’ve been longing for something I couldn’t quite explain to anyone, not even to myself” My heart leapt, “How long?” I breathed The smile on his face cracked a little, enough for me to see a shard of vulnerability. “Very long” The timber of his voice dropped lower, “Very long Yvonne” Hurt and longing lay in his words. It made my heart clench painfully

His hands were warm and strong, anchoring her in place as if daring her to run from the truth. "Look at me," he urged softly, his voice carrying both command and plea, leaving no room for her to retreat. Reluctantly, Calla lifted her eyes to meet his. The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming, like staring into the depths of a stormy sea. It wasn’t just love she saw there—it was longing, raw and unfiltered, and pain that seemed to stretch back years. Every emotion he had bottled up was now laid bare before her, unguarded and unapologetic.

He was in a foul mood, expecting another empty vessel, and began the shoot with almost no direction. “Gentleness,” he called out. I didn't need a chair or a prop. I simply leaned into the light, my eyes alert and clear, focused on a point in the distance as if I were tracking a mate I loved but could never reach. The intensity in my gaze was a physical pull. “Curiosity.” I shifted, my body becoming a story of longing and restraint. I wasn't selling my face; I was selling the feeling of the silk against the skin of a woman waiting for the moon to rise.

(THIRD PERSON'S POV) They lock eyes across the table. Everything around them fades away. They are in a universe all their own. Lost in the depths of each other's eyes. She can feel his desire, he hers. But it is not lustful. Calm, gentle, controlled. With a sense of longing to escape forever into that universe around them.

His normally confident stance is loose, and he seems unsteady on his own legs. “I don’t know what that was… I’ve never …. I don’t know!” His cocky, dominant tone is lacking too, and I can feel his eyes back on me as I struggle to sit up, pulling myself into a sitting ball and finally have the courage to stare at them. As soon as I meet Colton’s eyes again that same jolt hits me in my heart and stomach like a massive thud and I know this isn’t anything else. Heard enough about it to know what it is. Saw it happen to others. The need to go over and wrap myself in his arms, the longing way we stop and gaze at one another as urge blots out sense and beast overtakes human reasoning. He stares at

It was not long before the muffled cries of passion, broken and sporadic, seeped into Jessica's ears. Just a wall away, she trembled, sliding down against the cool surface to the floor. Anthony's breath came in ragged gasps. "Linda, after having a kid, how are you still so...?" Linda's breathy response followed, "Oh, and Jessica isn't?" The sounds of their encounter grew more intense, culminating in Anthony's low roar. "Jess is too buttoned-up, nothing like you—so free-spirited from your time overseas."