Quotes & Sayings About Him Being Mine
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I awoke some hours later to Hayes's body sliding up against mine, his arm wrapping around my waist, drawing me into his warmth. Like being in a womb. His breath soft at the back of my neck.
"You came back to me," his lips buzzed my ear.
"Of course I did. Liam."
He laughed.
"Wait. Whose room is this?"
"Mr. Marchand's."
"Crap. I might be in the wrong room."
He smiled, rolling me over to face him. "Hiiii."
"Hi."
"You want to come to an August Moon concert with me tonight?"
"It depends..." I said.
"It depends?"
"Do I have good seats?"
His finger was tracing my cheekbone. "You can sit on my face."
"Okay. In that case I'll come. — Robinne Lee

I wanted to make him understand that we shared the details of our lives, because they were the threads that braided us so closely together. And you would have been certain to tell me about a Sabatier knife, because it would have had the rare value of being a detail in your life which tied directly into mine - Bee in Sister — Rosamund Lupton

I reach up and pull my hair back from my face, show him the scar from the accident. Unconsciously, he mimics my gesture, touches the same scar on his own forehead.
"It's just like mine," says my self, amazed. "How did you get it?" "The same as you. It is the same. We are the same."
A translucent moment. I didn't understand, and then I did, just like that. I watch it happen. I want to be both of us at once, feel again the feeling of losing the edges of my self, of seeing the admixture of future and present for the first time. But I'm too accustomed, too comfortable with it, and so I am left on the outside, remembering the wonder of being nine and suddenly seeing, knowing, that my friend, guide, brother was me. Me, only me. The loneliness of it. — Audrey Niffenegger

Seeing his grief over Eamon makes mine pathetic. No one will feel the loss of his brother more than him. Not his parents, not his brother's friends. Not me. Me being here will probably just make things worse, not better. Or maybe that's my arrogance in thinking I might still have the same kind of effect on him that he has on me. — Jolene Perry

I feel good with my husband: I like his warmth and his bigness and his being-there and his making and his jokes and stories and what he reads and how he likes fishing and walks and pigs and foxes and little animals and is honest and not vain or fame-crazy and how he shows his gladness for what I cook him and joy for when I make him something, a poem or a cake, and how he is troubled when I am unhappy and wants to do anything so I can fight out my soul-battles and grow up with courage and a philosophical ease. I love his good smell and his body that fits with mine as if they were made in the same body-shop to do just that. What is only pieces, doled out here and there to this boy and that boy, that made me like pieces of them, is all jammed together in my husband. So I don't want to look around any more: I don't need to look around for anything. — Sylvia Plath

I know you worry about getting older, about not being the prettiest guy in the room anymore."
And I worried about aging, but not how he thought. I had never presumed I was prettiest, just one of many. My only concern now was that Sam Kage thought I was hot.
"But there will never come a time when that will be the case," he said, pressing soft kisses to the side of my neck. I leaned my head back so he could reach more of my throat. "To me, Jory," he said, "you're more beautiful now than you ever have been, and I can't wait to see what you're gonna look like at forty and fifty and sixty, and God willing a lot more numbers after that."
"Many after that," I assured him as my eyes drifted open so I could look up into his smoky-blue ones.
"The most important thing is that you're mine, you belong to me," he said, his hands pressing me closer before he kissed me. — Mary Calmes

Am I scared of the horrible things I know will happen to my kid to hurt him? Absolutely. But would I stop those things at the risk of taking away joy and growth and the absolute embracing of life? Never. Because I love this child for being mine,but I also love him for the being he will be, and I can't tell you how excited I am to watch him discover that for himself. — Kiersten White

He pulls away slowly, resting his forehead against mine, noses touching while his hand slips down to my ass. "This isn't going to be easy," he says softly.
"I know."
"Don't forget about me." He kisses me on the forehead.
"Don't stop being an asshole," I remind him. "Or people will think something's up."
He grins at me and smacks my ass. "That can be arranged. I'll see you, Freckles. — Karina Halle

And then we're kissing. His lips are soft and leave mine tingling. I close my eyes, and in the darkness behind them I see beautiful blooming things, flowers spinning like snowflakes, and hummingbirds beating the same rhythm as my heart. I'm gone, lost, floating away into nothingness like I am in my dream, but this time it's a good feeling - like soaring, like being totally free. His other hand pushes my hair from my face, and I can feel the impression of his fingers everywhere that they touch, and I think of stars streaking through the sky and leaving burning trails behind them, and in that moment - however long it lasts, seconds, minutes, days - while he's saying my name into my mouth and Im breathing into him, I realize this, right here, is the first and only time I've ever been kissed. — Lauren Oliver

So I told [the doctor] about my hay fever, which used to rage just in summertime but now simmers the year round, and he listened listlessly as though it were a cock and bull story; and we sat there for a few minutes and neither of us was interested in the other's nose, but after a while he poked a little swab up mine and made a smear on a glass slide and his assistant put it under the microscope and found two cells which delighted him and electrified the whole office, the cells being characteristic of a highly allergic system. The doctor's manner changed instantly and he was full of the enthusiasm of discovery and was as proud of the two little cells as though they were his own. — E.B. White

So we reached our decisions simultaneously, and apart, and if I knew that Court was fighting a battle, did he, too, sense mine? Did it have anything to do with his coming back to life again? For he is here, I am no longer living with a marble image. And I will never know why. Court being Court I can never ask him why; we wrestled with our problems alone and we must live alone with the answers. And is it part of a marriage, part of being a human being, that we must always reach our decisions alone? — Madeleine L'Engle

Thus began the weeks of what we termed being reckless - and I worry from that viewpoint, at least, that word defines our entire relationship. Reid lives his life in a reckless way, and ever since his life collided with mine last summer, I've been unbalanced. The trajectory of my safe, small orbit cannot contain him, and no amount of wishing will change that. — Tammara Webber

Honey, you can't call dibs on a human being." Her tone rose high enough to shatter glass. "Like calling something mine makes it so, because if it did, I'd be driving around town in a Porsche instead of Granddaddy's broken down Ford. Ain't nothing here that was yours." Using the tray, she backed him against the office door. "Anything you left behind is at the DAV thrift store. They put a price tag on things, and let me tell you, yours wasn't worth much. — Cindy Skaggs

I've been insulted by fools before. I survived." Even in the dim light he saw her eyes change.
"Just because he was using words instead of a knife, you can't dismiss it, Saetan. He hurt you."
"Of course he hurt me," Saetan snapped. "Being accused of - " He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand. "I don't tolerate fools, Jaenelle, but I also don't kill them for being fools. I simply keep them out of my life." He sat up and took her other hand. "I am your sword and your shield, Lady. You don't have to kill."
Witch studied him with her ancient, haunted sapphire eyes. "You'll take the scars on your soul so that mine remains unmarked?"
"Everything has a price," he said gently. "Those kinds of scars are part of being a Warlord Prince. You're at a crossroads, witch-child. You can use your power to heal or to harm. It's your choice. — Anne Bishop

He used to annoy me with sophistry that we all chose our destiny. Then one day I told him that that's great when fate offers you a nice set of destinies to choose from, but when you find yourself choosing between risking being raped, tortured and killed, or moving to another country to live like an alien without tongue, money or understanding, you are buggered either way. And that's not even to mention how easily he could navigate through the mine filed of his mistakes... — Dunya Look

You know, Qhuinn's an interesting character." Saxton reached out with an elegant hand and picked up his port. "He's one of my favorite cousins, actually. His nonconformity is admirable and he's survived things that would crush a lesser male. Don't know that being in love with him would be easy, however."
Blay didn't go near that one. "So do you come here often?"
Saxton laughed, his pale eyes glinting, "Not for discussion, huh. — J.R. Ward

I was lying in bed on a Saturday morning, reading the paper, when my phone went. The caller was Rangers director, Jack Gillespie, and he offered me the manager's job at Ibrox. I was flattered but declined with thanks. John Greig was a good friend of mine and I had no intention of being involved in ousting him. — Alex Ferguson

You look concerned," Roshaun said from behind her.
Dairine scowled over her shoulder at him. "The whole universe is in danger," she said, "and we're not sure how to save it, assuming it can be saved. One of the Powers That Be has stuffed secret messages into my brain without telling me. And a friend of mine who happens to be my wizard's manual is being reprogrammed with software that even these guys haven't had time to beta test! Wow, Roshaun, why would I need to be concerned?"
Roshaun glanced at the ground. Another chair appeared for him, a slight distance from Dairine's. He lowered himself into it, stretching out his legs with a sigh. "Sarcasm," he said, "Amusing, if ineffective. — Diane Duane

It's strange," I say to Day later, as we both curl up on the floor. Outside, the hurricane rages on. In a few hours we'll need to head out. "It's strange being here with you. I hardly know you. But ... sometimes it feels like we're the same person born into two different worlds."
He stays quiet for a moment, one hand absently playing with my hair. "I wonder what we would've been like if I'd been born into a life more like yours,and you had been born into mine. Would we be just like we are now? Would I be one of the Republic's top soldiers? And would you be a famous criminal?"
I lift my head off his shoulder and look at him. "I never did ask you about your street name.Why 'Day'?"
"Each day means a new twenty-four hours. Each day means everything's possible again.You live in the moment, you die in the moment,you take it all one day at a time." He looks toward the railway car's open door, where streaks of dark water blanket the world. "You try to walk in the light. — Marie Lu

I bunched the squirrel-fur hat up under my head and left the pack for Mal to use as a pillow. Then I pulled my coat close around me and huddled beneath the new furs. I was nodding off when I heard Mal return and settle himself beside me, his back pressed comfortably against mine. As I drifted into sleep, I felt like I could still taste the sugar from that sweet roll on my tongue, feel the pleasure of laughter gusting through me. We'd been robbed. We'd almost been killed. We were being hunted by the most powerful man in Ravka. But we were friends again, and sleep came more easily than it had in a long time. At some point during the night, I woke to Mal's snoring. I jabbed him in the back with my elbow. He rolled onto his side, muttered something in his sleep, and threw his arm over me. A minute later he started snoring again, but this time I didn't wake him. — Leigh Bardugo

You didn't want to put in the work to make us happen.
It was true. I had been so captivated by Duncan, so enamored, so infatuated, that I let his life drown mine for two years. I went along, and when I got tired of it, tired of it just being easy and comfortable and convenient but not love, I ended it. And that was why I had the man in my lobby looking at me like there were still places for us to go.
I had let him believe that he was my whole world, let him be everything, and then one day just stopped loving him and walked away. It was something I did, something I had always done - poured on the charm, made myself into the ideal partner, lover, friend, indispensable and irreplaceable, and then, when I got bored or tired or tapped out, instead of fighting, I just quit. It was wildly unfair, and the only people I didn't do it with were my family. Even my friends complained that I was always around and then just gone.
Nathan Qells — Mary Calmes

And I don't expect him to suborn his life into mine any more than I would change my dreams for him. We're not one soul, one being, however much we love each other. — Ann Aguirre

I can't stop thinking about you," he whispers.
He moves in, closer, lips pausing inches from mine. Wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him. I let out a quick gasp of air.
"I dream about you," he murmurs, eyes grasping mine.
"You don't sleep," I choke, feeling a delirious passion coursing through my veins.
"I dream about your smile. About touching you. I dream about being with you. Like this. — Katie Klein

I'll answer that.' He took a deep breath, and I could see his eyes searching mine, like he was looking for an answer. 'I had thought that was the ending,' he finally said. 'But I might have been wrong.'
'I was just thinking,' I said, sure that the rest of the crowd could probably hear how hard my heart was beating, since it seemed deafening to me, pounding in my ears, 'that maybe Marjorie realized she was in love with Karl. And told him that. And said she was sorry for being scared. — Morgan Matson

This isn't over. I won't give up on you."
"I've given up on you," he said back, voice also soft. "Love fades. Mine has."
I stared at him in disbelief. All this time, he'd never phrased it like that. His protests had always been about some greater good, about the remorse he felt over being a monster of how it had scarred him from love. I've given up on you. Love fades. Mine has.
I backed up, the sting of those words hitting me as hard as if he'd slapped me. Something shifted in his features, like maybe he knew how much he'd hurt me. I didn't stick around to see. Instead, I pushed my way out of the aisle and ran out the doors in the back, afraid that if I stayed any longer, everyone in the church would see me cry. — Richelle Mead

ROSE: I married your daddy and settled down to cooking his super and keeping clean sheets on the bed. When your daddy walked through the house he was so big he filled it up. That was my first mistake. Not to make him leave some room for me. For my part in the matter. But at that time I wanted that. I wanted a house that I could sing in. And that's what your daddy gave me. I didn't know to keep up his strength I had to give up little pieces of mine. I did that. I took on his life as mine and mixed up the pieces so that you couldn't hardly tell which was which anymore. It was my choice. It was my life and I didn't have to live it like that.But that's what life offered me in the way of being a woman and I took it. I grabbed hold of it with both hands. — August Wilson

I felt him on a different level. I shied away from saying a soul-deep level even though that's what I suspected. His energy charged mine. Kind of like a battery being plugged in. It was impossible not to feel his presence. — Cambria Hebert

I didn't properly think about what was happening even as I kissed him back, my laughter spilling into his mouth and making stutters of my kisses. I was still bound up with him, our magic snarled up into great messy tangled knots. I didn't have anything to compare that intimacy to. I'd felt the hot embarrassment of it, but I'd thought of it vaguely like being naked in front of a stranger. I hadn't connected it to sex - sex was poetic references in songs, my mother's practical instructions, and those few awful hideous moments in the tower with Prince Marek, where I might as well have been a rag doll as far as he'd cared. But now I toppled the Dragon over, clutching at his shoulders. As we fell his thigh pressed between mine, through my skirts, and in one shuddering jolt I began to form a startled new understanding. — Naomi Novik

I liked Pat Cash, and I loved Mats Wilander. I went to the Australian Open with my parents, and I used to watch Wilander being cheered on by the Swedish fans, and with his game style being like mine, I drew comparisons with him. — Lleyton Hewitt

I never pretend to be so superior a being as to be above having and indulging a hobby horse [her journal writing], and while I keep mine within due bounds and limits, nobody, I flatter myself, would wish to deprive me of the poor animal: to be sure, he is not formed for labour, and is rather lame and weak, but then the dear creature is faithful, constant, and loving, and though he sometimes prances, would not kick anyone into the mire, or hurt a single soul for the world
and I would not part with him for one who could win the greatest prize that ever was won at any races. — Fanny Burney

Kinley stepped up behind Law, peering out from behind his back. "Are you sorry you kidnapped me?"
He had to be honest with her. "No. If I hadn't, you wouldn't be here. I'd be a lot sorrier about that. I think you would, too."
She pursed her lips. "Are you sorry that your dog raped mine?"
He wasn't about to take that. "No, your dog led mine into sin. He has a thing for bows. She used it against him."
He caught the faintest hint of a smile from her. "I'll admit, she's a flirty thing. So if you're not apologizing for kidnapping me or very likely turning my dog into a single mother, what are you sorry about?"
So many things. "For being rude to you. — Shayla Black

Don't you remember how you once answered a question of mine? Me - I shall never forget your words. Those words of yours opened my eyes; they brought me the light of day. I asked you how the Germans could send Jewish children to die in the gas chambers. How, I asked, could they live with themselves after that? Was there really no judgement passed on them by man or God? And you said: Only one judgement is passed on the executioner - he ceases to be a human being. Through looking on his victim as less than human, he becomes his own executioner, he executes the human being inside himself. But the victim - no matter what the executioner does to kill him - remains a human being forever. Remember now? — Vasily Grossman

Joss's stories are often centered on moments just like this. He shares a conversation that he had with Stephen Sondheim, in which they were discussing the stories each of them tells. Joss said he was always going to write about adolescent girls with superpowers. Sondheim replied, "And I will always write about yearning." "Goddammit, his answer was so much cooler than mine!" Joss says - but Sondheim's answer pushed him to break down his own tales and figure out what his driving impetus was, what he was really writing about. "Helplessness was what I realized was sort of the basic thing," Joss explains. "All of these empowerment stories come from my fear and hatred of the idea of somebody who is really helpless, who is a non-being. — Amy Pascale

My brain wanted to scream at him, punch him, but when his tongue ran along the seam of my mouth seeking entrance my traitorous lips opened for him, groaning when his tongue found mine, pressing myself up against his dirty body. He cupped his hands around my face and kissed me like he was screaming at me, punishing me for disobeying him, for being in his life, for not being in his life. I took his punishment and gave it back to him, telling him all the things with our kiss that I didn't understand myself. — T.M. Frazier

I am Preachers little girl. And I'm gonna be just like him when I grow up. I'm gonna have a Fatboy but I want mine to be sparkly and I want a pink helmet with skulls on it. And instead of being the club President, I'm gonna be the club Queen cuz I'm gonna marry the biggest, scariest biker in the whole world and he's gonna let me do whatever I want because he's gonna love me like crazy. — Madeline Sheehan

I'm pulled, pushed and then I find my back against a wall. Eagan's taut frame is bent toward mine, and my body is arched toward his. We create a peculiar sculpture of opposite forces. He cups my face in his palms and makes me look up at him. His lips are so close to mine, that I feel the whisper of his breath against my mouth; I smell mint and a hint of beer. I desire a kiss so desperately, my body is humming with longing. I curl my fingers around his wrists.
"I hate fighting with you," he admits huskily.
"I know. Me too."
"I need to hold you."
I nod and let him fold his arms around me. I bury my face against his chest and utter soft sounds of contentment as his warmth leaks into my skin.
I glance at our shadows painted on the gravel by darkness and streetlights; we're not opposite forces any longer, we're one single being.
("A Veil of Glass and Rain") — Petra F. Bagnardi

I need you to write something down, he said. It was, he said, for his new book, not for mine, a point he stressed because I was at the time researching a book that involved sports ... When I gave him the note the next day he said "You can use it if you want to."
What did he mean?
Did he know he would not write the book?
Did he have some apprehension, a shadow? Why had he forgotten to bring note cards to dinner that night? Had he not warned me that the ability to make a note when something came to mind was the difference between being able to write and not being to write? — Joan Didion

Over me. And his brother offers me his hand. "The girl who tamed the beast. It's nice to finally meet." Andy laughs. I can tell by the sparkle in his eyes he knows exactly what his brother is like. "Come on, let's sit and get ready." Their mom sits and drags me with her. "How did BJ seem today? He gets tense sometimes when it's game day. Was he tense?" She's tense but I get it. This is a lifetime of work coming to a head. The culmination of a family full of dreams all coming true in one moment. Sami sits next to me, doing her indifferent face. It's weird being with them and being with my family. The life was the same and then completely opposite. His parents wanted what was best for him, same as mine, and they had a dream for him, same as mine, but they let him choose the dream, in the end. My dad did that for me, but my mom didn't. I wish she could see and feel what this moment is like. I wish I — Tara Brown

You know what she's made of."
"Yeah, good stock, good breeding, a hard head and a hunger to win." She flashed him a smile as they approached the kitchen door. "I've been told that describes me. I'm half Irish, Brian, I was born stubborn."
"No arguing with that. A person might make the world a calmer place for others by being passive, but you don't get very far in it yourself, do you?"
"Look at that. We have a foundation of agreement. Now tell me you like spaghetti and meatballs."
"It happens to be a favorite of mine."
"That's handy. Mine, too. And I heard a rumor that's what's for dinner." She reached for the doorknob, then caught him off guard by brushing a light kiss over his lips. "And since we'll be joining my parents, it would probably be best if you didn't imagine me naked for the next couple of hours."
She sailed in ahead of him, leaving Brian helplessly and utterly aroused. — Nora Roberts

The hatred I feel for him, for the phantom girl, for everything, is so real and immediate it chokes me. Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else is unthinkable. Why did it take him being whipped within an inch of his life to see it? — Suzanne Collins

Yet I was a fool to fancy for a moment that she valued Edgar Linton's attachment more than mine
If he love with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn't love as much in eighty years, as I could in a day. And Catherine has a heart as deep as I have; the sea could be as readily contained in that horse-trough, as her whole affection be monopolized by him
Tush! He is scarcely a degree dearer to her than her dog, or her horse
It is not in him to be loved like me, how can she love in him what he has not? — Emily Bronte

John Brown's zeal in the cause of freedom was infinitely superior to mine. Mine was as the taper light; his was as the burning sun. I could live for the slave; John Brown could die for him. The American people and the Government at Washington may refuse to recognize it for a time but the inexorable logic of events will force it upon them in the end; that the war now being waged in this land is a war for and against slavery. — Frederick Douglass

I'd waited so long for his kiss, and it was so much more, so much better than I had dared imagine. Golden sunshine burst behind my closed eyelids as I became a being entwined with the sun.
His hands pulled me against his body and I melted into him, my limbs tingling and warm. Amon's mouth moved over mine, slowly, like he could make the kiss last forever. — Colleen Houck

Are you going to continue to scold me?" "Is that what I'm doing?" "I think so." "You're lucky I'm just scolding you." "What do you mean?" "Well, if you were mine, you wouldn't be able to sit down for a week after the stunt you pulled yesterday. You didn't eat, you got drunk, you put yourself at risk." He closes his eyes, dread etched briefly on his face, and he shudders. When he opens his eyes, he glares at me. "I hate to think what could have happened to you." I scowl back at him. What is his problem? What's it to him? If I was his ... Well, I'm not. Though maybe part of me would like to be. The thought pierces through the irritation I feel at his high-handed words. I flush at the waywardness of my subconscious - she's doing her happy dance in a bright red hula skirt at the thought of being his. — E.L. James

This was the thing that terrified me the most - more than the victim, more than the demon, more even than the dark thoughts. It was the fact that the dark thoughts were mine. That I couldn't separate myself from evil, because most of the evil in my life came from inside my own head.
How long could I live like this? I was trying to be two people - a killer on the inside, and a normal person on the outside. I made such a show of being a good, quiet kid, who never caused problem and never got into trouble, but now the monster was out, and I was actually using him - I was actively seeking out another killer. I'd given in. I was trying to be John and Mr. Monster at the same time.
Was I fooling myself, thinking that I could split my life like this? Was it possible to be two people, one good and one bad, or was I forced to be a mix of both - a good person forever tainted by evil? — Dan Wells

You're being domineering again," I informed him.
I felt his mouth grin under mine and watched his eyes do it.
"Yeah, baby, fair warnin', when we're naked, you better get used to that."
I gasped at his words then he kissed me. — Kristen Ashley

You could heal him?" I asked, glancing at Hal.
"Could," said the wysling, "but won't, until I get what's mine."
I pressed my lips together and took a deep breath. "You're heartless and selfish."
"I agree," he said, steepling his pale hands together and pointing them at the floor. "Any decent human being would offer to heal him anyway. However, since I'm neither decent nor a human being, I feel pretty all right about it. — Mirriam Neal

I pull his mouth to mine and I kiss him. I kiss him for always having the perfect thing to say. I kiss him for always being there for me. I kiss him for supporting whatever decision I think I might need to make. I kiss him for being so patient with me while I figure everything out. I kiss him because I can't think of anything better than climbing back inside that car with him and talking about everything we'll do when we get to Hawaii. - Sky — Colleen Hoover

Then his lips were on mine and I lost myself, overwhelmed by the surge of Trey's emotions as they flooded through me. I kissed him back wanting to forget my fear of being discovered of putting him in danger and focus only on how good it felt being in his arms. After all relinquishing some control was a sacrifice worth making if it meant I could continue to live in this fantasy with Trey. But the dreaded tingling in my teeth started up again and I reluctantly pulled away. — Heather Jensen

She thought about all the things she would like to say to him. Thank you for wanting to defend me. Thank you for thinking Rupert is a rogue. Thank you for being a man of integrity. Oh, Lord Hamlin, if you were mine, I'd make you so happy. Rose stifled a laugh at the stupid, outrageous thought. — Melanie Dickerson

Aziz winked at him slowly and said: ... There are many ways of being a man; mine is to express what is deepest in my heart. — E. M. Forster

For the record," I do not desire your body. Not that you're hideous or anything, far from it. Even with those scars, your chest is really nice, and I like your legs because they aren't scrawny, and you have nice shoulders and naughty bits, but I've never been one to put physical attributes ahead of more important things."
"Such as?" He had his hands on his hips when he asked the question, which just made me want to giggle again.
"Intelligence, a sense of humor, and oh yes, not being a mythical creature." I swallowed another giggle. "Not that it wasn't a cool form, but still. I like my men without the sort of baggage that must go with being a shape-shifter."
"Is that so?" One eyebrow lifted.
"Yes."
"Then you will not like this." He pulled me against him, his mouth moving into place on mine, his breath hotter than I could have imagined. And then he kissed the very wits right out of my brain. — Katie MacAlister

Edden called the church first," she said by way of greeting, her thin
eyebrows high as she spotted Ford's arm linked in mine. "Hi, Ford."
The man reddened at the lilt she'd put in her last words, but I wouldn't let him take his arm back. I liked being needed. "He's having trouble with the background emotion," I said.
"And he'd rather be abused by yours?"
Nice.
(Ivy, Rachel and Ford) — Kim Harrison

Mine was bright green with gold swirls. Adam's was black.
"You have no imagination," I told him smugly. "It wouldn't hurt if you found a pink ball to bowl with."
"All the pink balls have kid-sized holes in them," he told me. "The black balls are the heaviest."
I opened my mouth, but he shut me up with a kiss. "Not here," he said. "Look next to us."
We were being observed by a boy of about five and a toddler in a frilly pink dress.
I raised my nose in the air. "As if I were going to joke about your ball. How juvenile. — Patricia Briggs

If you care so much about it," she asks him, "then why did you run?"
He takes a moment before answering, shifting his weight and grimacing again. "Their work is good," he says. "It just isn't mine."
This baffles her. His motives - his hazy integrity. It was easy to dismiss Lev as "part of the problem" when she did not know him, but now it's not so easy. He's a paradox. This is a boy who almost blew himself to bits in an attempt to kill others, and yet he offered himself to the parts pirate in order to save Miracolina's life. How could someone go from having no respect for one's own existence to being willing to give himself as a sacrifice for someone he barely knows? It flies in the face of the truths that have defined Miracolina's life. The bad are bad, the good are good, and being caught in between is just an illusion. There is no gray. — Neal Shusterman

She came awake, stomach rumbling, and opened her eyes to see a plate being held right under her nose.
When she reached for it, Shane snatched it back. 'Nuh-uh. Mine.'
'Share!' she demanded.
'Man, you are one grabby girlfriend.'
She grinned. It always made her feel so fiercly warm inside to hear him say that- the girlfriend part, not the grabby part.
'If you love me, you'll give me a taco.'
'Seriously? That's all you got? What about you'll do sexy, illegal things to me for a taco?'
'Not for a taco,' she said. 'I'm not cheap.'
'They're brisket tacos.'
'Now you're talking. — Rachel Caine

Skye snorted. "Parents are so lame sometimes. Mine think I'm a virgin. They also think I'd never drink beer because I'm a calorie freak. No one is that much of a calorie freak."
Frowning as she yanked me along, I wondered about the calories in those tacos. Skye must have sensed my concerns because she snorted again.
"The freshman fifteen is expected. If we don't pack on a little weight, people will think we're full of ourselves. Those girls over there," she said, waving her hand in the direction of a bevy of pretty sorority girls. "They're obsessed with being hot. Unfortunately, while you can snag a man by being hot, you can't keep him. To keep them, you have to be confident and I am. I'm just confident enough to pack on a few pounds from eating tacos. I'm a keeper — Bijou Hunter

You need to just fuck already. Get it over with before you kill each other."
"Ah, always the romantic, Emmy," Joey says.
"I'm so serious," she drawls in a drunken slur. "I don't know why you didn't pull the trigger last night, girl."
"I tried!" I say. "But now he says I have to be sober if I want to hook up with him, and being sober on the road is for pussies."
"Hey, pussies are tough," she says. "You should've seen the thrashing mine took last night."
"Nope," I say. "No thank you. — Mercy Brown

You gave me the truth today, so I'll share mine: even if it meant us being friends again, I don't think I would want to go back to how it was before - who I was before. And this ... " He jerked his chin toward the scattered crystals and the bowl of water. "I think this is a good change, too. Don't fear it."
Dorian left, and Chaol opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was too stunned. When Dorian had spoken, it hadn't been a prince who looked at him. It had been a king. — Sarah J. Maas

It's natural for children to drift through their early childhood taking their parents for granted, then adolescence rears its ugly head and insouciance morphs into rebellion as they strive to define themselves by being as different from those who gave them life as possible. But for me, now on the eve of my sixteenth year, familial insurrection had yet to seize me - and in reality, it never would. I was my father's son. His moral compass was inexorably mine. I knew that day I would forever define myself not by contrasts to my father, but by emulation, striving to be a "good man" like him. But the term "good man" was not adequate to describe him. Daddy was a great man who charted his own course in life, guided by his own light, irrespective of the opinions of others, be they my grandmother's or those of his Brothers in the Lodge. He was the kind of man I wanted to be, the kind of man I was already becoming without fully realizing it. — G.M. Frazier

Eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue's sweet air More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear. Sickness is catching: O, were favour so, Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go; My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye, My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody. Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, The rest I'd give to be to you translated. O, teach me how you look, and with what art You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart. Hermia I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. Helena O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill! Hermia I give him curses, yet he gives me love. Helena O that my prayers could such affection move! Hermia — William Shakespeare

He clamped a large hand down on mine as I moved to lift the diaries. I glanced up at him and he shook his head with a small smile. It's painful to read how my stupidity hurt you at the time, but I like being inside you head. I like knowing that while I was struggling with the fact that I had fallen in love with my best friend's little sister, she loved me back more than I could ever hope to deserve. — Samantha Young

And his kisses.
God, his lips feel like they were custom made to fit perfectly against mine.
He alternates between soft and sweet, hard and hungry. And I get it.
Though we've shared plenty of kisses, this one is different. It's like discovering a lake in the middle of a desert. Or waking up on Christmas morning to a glistening blanket of show. The equivalent of winning the lottery.
And though it redefines the "cheese" in cheesiness, that's what it feels like to have Logan back in my life, back in my arms, when I thought he was lost to me forever.
Being with him means more than I can express. It's everything. He's everything. I start and end with him. — Siobhan Davis

The feeling of being trapped, of being helpless against his strength, his lust, and what my body needed was almost overwhelming. My eyes shuttered closed at the effort of not struggling in his harsh grasp. He whispered against my face, and I could not focus enough to see him. "Do you want to ride the storm?" His breath was hot against my skin. His voice promised no gentleness, no compromise. I knew the kind of sex he was offering, and the thought of it tightened things low in my body, drew another small sound from my throat. "Yes," I whispered, "yes." The roll of thunder echoed down the hallway, shuddering between the stone walls. The sound seemed to vibrate out of his body and into mine as if my body were a tuning fork struck against the rim of some great metal cup. His voice growled against my skin, with the taste of thunder in it. "Good," he said and forced me to my knees. — Laurell K. Hamilton

How do I describe the feeling that envelopes my being when he is near? It is like a cocoon of warmth and peace, but beneath that there is a deep longing, a hunger that one kiss would not be able to satisfy, one kiss would only make the hunger greater. But oh, how I long for that kiss, a kiss that might never come.
Being close to him does things to me, makes me feel things I never knew existed, makes me want things I have never wanted before. I have never desired to know a man's body before I met Ariston. I wonder if he knows that I desire him in such a way, that I not only want to know his body, but that I want him to know mine. There is a part of me that would not care if he loves me or not if I could just have one beautiful, passionate night with him, while the rest of me knows that one night would never be enough. — Jasmine Dubroff

How strange it is to realize now that although I was frightened of the emptiness between us, that emptiness was not his fault but mine: I was waiting to see what he would give me, how he would entertain me. And yet I was incapable of being profoundly interested in him or, maybe, in anyone. Just the reverse of what I thought at the time, when it seemed so simple: he was too callow, or too cautious, or just too young, not complex enough yet, and so he did not entertain me, and it was his fault. — Lydia Davis

It was about falling asleep with Sam's chest pressed against my back so I could feel his heart slow to match mine. It was about growing up and realizing that the feel of his arms around me, the smell of him when he was sleeping, the sound of his breathing
that was home and everything I wanted at the end of the day. It wasn't the same as being with him and we were awake. — Maggie Stiefvater

I led him up the dark stairs, to prevent his knocking his head against anything, and really his damp cold hand felt so like a frog in mine, that I was tempted to drop it and run away. Agnes and hospitality prevailed, however, and I conducted him to my fireside. When I lighted my candles, he fell into meek transports with the room that was revealed to him; and when I heated the coffee in an unassuming block-tin vessel in which Mrs. Crupp delighted to prepare it (chiefly, I believe, because it was not intended for the purpose, being a shaving-pot, and because there was a patent invention of great price mouldering away in the pantry), he professed so much emotion, that I could joyfully have scalded him. — Charles Dickens

I wish I could say we all lived happily ever after. I can't. But I can say we lived. Our love for Nate lives, and he's left us this piece of himself in his art; it was his gift to us. We know him through his art, and I can take comfort in that.
I guess the thing about high school is, it's the moment when you start to cross from a being a kid to being an adult, and this journey to know yourself begins. Nate's journey ended to early, and I thought I had to run away to some far-off land to start mine. But, for now, it seems to me that I have enough to explore right here. There's a whole continent to discover in myself, and I know that it's love - love for my parents, my friends, my brother, and my art - that will guide me. Love will be my map. — Lisa Ann Sandell