Husky Life Quotes & Sayings

Blood of my blood ... " I whispered. "Bone of my bone." His whisper was deep and husky. He knelt quite suddenly before me, and put his folded hands in mine; the gesture a Highlander makes when swearing loyalty to his chieftain. "I give ye my spirit," he said, head bent over our hands. " 'Til our life shall be done," I said softly. "But it isn't done yet, Jamie, is it?" Then he rose and took the shift from me, and I lay back on the narrow bed naked, pulled him down to me through the soft yellow light, and took him home, and home, and home again, and we were neither one of us alone. — Diana Gabaldon

When you've lived as long as I have," he said, eyes heavy-lidded but definitely on her, "you learn to appreciate new sensations. They are rare in an immortal's life."
She found she'd moved toward him. He hooked her arm around her waist, pulling her closer until she straddled him as he sat on a ledge below the waterline, her legs wrapped around his waist.
He settled her firmly against him.
Sucking in a breath, she said, "Sex isn't new to you," and rocked her heat over the exquisite hardness of him. Good didn't begin to describe how it felt. How he felt.
"No. But you are."
"Never had a hunter before?" She grinned, nibbling on his lower lip.
But he didn't smile. "I've never had Elena before." The words were husky, his eyes so intent she felt owned. — Nalini Singh

It was my baby, too." His voice was husky, filled with regret, with pain. "But even more than that, Sherra, you're my soul. You're every breath I take. I would give my life to have saved you. I would give it now if it would mean I could go back and spare you this pain." The dampness from his eyes soaked the swarthy complexion, lined with pain and regret. "I would do anything, everything, baby, to ease this pain for you. — Lora Leigh

That woman must have been a husky in a previous life. — Mary Papas

His personal fulfillment did not lead him to evolve a cheerful Madonna; on the contrary this Madonna was sad; she had already, through his sculptures, known the Descent. The tranquility of his early bas-relief, when Mary still had her decision to make, could never be recaptured. This young mother was committed; she knew the end of her boy's life. That was why she was reluctant to let him go, this beautiful, husky,healthy boy, his hand clasped for protection in hers. That
was why she sheltered him with the side of her cloak.
The child, sensitive to his mother's mood, had a touch of melancholy about the eyes. He was strong, he had courage, he would step forth from the safe harbor of his mother's lap, but just now he gripped her hand with the fingers of one hand, and with the
other held securely to her side. Or was it his own mother he was thinking about, sad because she must leave her son alone in the world? Himself, who clung to her? — Irving Stone

I love you, Jillian. I love you, and I want this to be the start of something new."
...
"I love this life, I love you, and I want to start our lives together now."
"You're ... serious?"
"Can you handle not knowing who I was? ... Can you deal with the man I am now?"
"Yes," she whispered in a husky rasp. "Oh, yes."
"Good," he said, lowering his mouth to her throat. "Because the man I am now is who I want to be. Forever. — Larissa Ione

Because now I realize that being a marshal or being a soldier isn't my whole life, those two things aren't all that I am." His voice was thick with emotion, low and husky. "You're in there too; you're actually the most important part because I carry you with me wherever I go. — Mary Calmes

Lane tipped his head nearer so their foreheads gently touched. "I want you more than I've wanted anything in my life," he said, his voice low and husky. "More than I thought it was possible to want. — Barbara DeLeo

He covered her mouth with his ---and she felt as if she had suddenly been enveloped in a cascade of sparks. The tingling warmth from his touch did not compare to the sensations that whirled through her as his lips moved over hers. It was as if every part of her body had at once become brilliantly alive.
His beard was a startling, silky roughness against her skin. His other hand came to rest at her waist, drawing her in tight, and her body seemed to meld to his hard, lean lines, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Her thoughts scattered. A sound escaped her, soft and deep, unlike any sound she had ever made in her life.
Then his tongue touched her lower lip and she gave a startled little squeak.
Her suddenly lifted his mouth from hers, his eyes midnight blue, his voice husky. "You have never even been kissed before, leannan. You are as innocent as the day you first set foot in the convent. — Shelly Thacker

Hungry?" he asked as embarrassment flushed her cheeks, and he laughed. "Get dressed, and I'll have supper brought up to us."
"Isn't getting dressed defeating the purpose?" she said as she slowly rolled onto her side and trailed her fingers across his chest. "I mean you're just going to take off whatever I put on, right?"
Her fingers stirred a fire inside him as she dragged them down toward his stomach.With a life of its own, his cock stirred as she brushed her fingertips over his growing erection. Nicholas growled with need at her touch.
"You're deliberately trying to distract me."
"Is it working?" she murmured in a husky voice. — Monica Burns

everyday life - a series of incidents, some of which make an impression, while most are forgotten. Your consciousness is trained to repress. You crave a holiday, two weeks on a Greek island in the summer or, slighter shorter-term, a long weekend on a ferry to Denmark. Drinking, shouting, laughing, homing in on a woman with just the right kind of husky laugh, who has warm eyes and who thinks pointed shoes are absolutely great. But until that happens: days like photographic slides - images which flicker for a few seconds before disappearing, some easier to remember than others, but then those disappear, too. — K.O. Dahl

For my sake," he said firmly, addressing the air in front of him as though it were a tribunal, "I dinna want ye to bear another child. I wouldna risk your loss, Sassenach," he said, his voice suddenly husky. "Not for a dozen bairns. I've daughters and sons, nieces and nephews, grandchildren - weans enough."

He looked at me directly then, and spoke softly.

"But I've no life but you, Claire."

He swallowed audibly, and went on, eyes fixed on mine.

"I did think, though . . . if ye do want another child . . . perhaps I could still give ye one. — Diana Gabaldon