Make Her Feel Wanted Quotes & Sayings

I wanted to say something to make her feel better, but I didn't know what words could have that much magic. — Susan Crandall

Watching a make-out while wrapped in a blanket with a guy she wanted to make out with made her feel exposed. Obvious. Transparent. Like her thoughts were flashing before his eyes.
Finally Brett managed to pull away without consent of Bekka's lips. The confusion created a sloppy bite-a-juicy-peach sound. Everyone cringed. — Lisi Harrison

If you had actually screwed me it would have wrecked everything. It
would have convinced me that you were only interested in pleasure with
my animal body and that you didn't really care about the part that was
a person. It would have meant that you were using me like a woman
when I really wasn't one and needed a lot of help to grow into one. It
would have meant you could only see my body and couldn't see the real
me which was still a little girl. The real me would have been up on the
ceiling watching you do things with my body. You would have seemed
content to let the real me die. When you feed a girl, you make her feel
that both her body and her self are wanted. This helps her get joined
together. When you screw her she can feel that her body is separate and
dead. People can screw dead bodies, but they never feed them. — R.D. Laing

Dogs possess a quality that's rare among humans
the ability to make you feel valued just by being you
and it was something of a miracle to me to be on the receiving end of all that acceptance. The dog didn't care what I looked like, or what I did for a living, or what a train wreck of a life I'd led before I got her, or what we did from day to day. She just wanted to be with me, and that awareness gave me a singular sensation of delight. I kept her in a crate at night until she was housebroken, and in the mornings I'd let her up onto the bed with me. She'd writhe with joy at that. She'd wag her tail and squirm all over me, lick my neck and face and eyes and ears, get her paws all tangled in my braid, and I'd just lie there, and I'd feel those oceans of loss from my past ebbing back, ebbing away, and I'd hear myself laugh out loud. — Caroline Knapp

Now give me a kiss, say you love me and off you go."
"Sure, Aunt Lu," I said, and I gave her the kiss she wanted. Then I ran out and caught my bus. I didn't say I loved her. I guess I did. But asking someone to say they love you
and she always asked
is like buying yourself a birthday present. It's more than likely exactly what you want. But it must make you feel awfully sad to get it. — Avi

Our words always paint two portraits when we describe our families to others. Outsiders cannot but see the small peeves and follies that wrinkle our relationships with our loved ones. The claims we make in defensive certainty
that we were the one wronged, that we were the one who wanted the best
cannot but fall on skeptical ears since everyone makes the same claimsof virtue and innocence. We are always more than we want to be in the eyes of others simply because we are blind to the bulk of what we are.
...
Mimara had wanted him to see her as a victim, as a long-suffering penitent, more captive than daughter, and not as someone embittered and petulant, someone who often held others accountable for her inability to feel safe, to feel anything unpolluted by the perpetual pang of shame ...
And he loved her the more for it. — R. Scott Bakker

Why didn't you tell me?" he asked her after a small eternity.
"I didn't
I didn't feel that way
until
so many things have happened ... " Kaitlyn faltered. Of all things, she wanted to make Rob all right. Although now she saw that her love for him must have been changing for a long time, gradually, she didn't know how to explain that. "It's probaly just
I'll get over it. In a little while ... "
"Not that, you won't," Rob said. "Neither of you. I mean, I sure hope you don't." He sounded as incoherent as Kaitlyn felt, and he kept swallowing. But he went on doggedly, "Kait, I love you. You know I do. But this isn't something I can compete with." He stepped back. "I'm not blind. You two belong together. — L.J.Smith

He wanted to make her feel good. She couldn't remember the last time someone had done that. He — Mark Haddon

She would also be creating her own bridal bouquet. She wanted to feel the fragility and softness of each petal. And to make the single flowers stronger than they'd been separately. Just as she was stronger now, together with people who loved and accepted her. — Liz Grace Davis

It's me, you fool. Who do you think it is? I'm coming in."
He was already naked. She turned away from him as he slipped in by her side but he caught her in his arms and felt her body thaw his belly and thighs. That was all, just to lie there listening to the breathing and the silence and feel the warmth colour his belly and thighs and head. She never wore clothes in bed. They were naked and the warmth run out of her. He wanted to laugh, because it was such a marvelous discovery to make, this warmth. She was hissing like a snake.
"No, it's wrong." She went on hissing.
She brought an elbow back smartly and struck him in the paunch. She seemed all elbows, shoulder blades and heels. It was like trying to make love to a dough-mixing machine. She wanted it, didn't she, otherwise why all this hissing and moaning? — P.H. Newby

I know we have only been together for a little over a year," I explained, quickly. "Maybe it's too soon? I understand if it's too soon. It's just that how you feel about the way we kiss? I feel that way about everything we do together. I love it. I love to be inside you, I love working with you, I love watching you work, I love fighting with you, and I love just sitting on the couch and laughing with you. I'm lost when I'm not with you, Chloe. I can't think of anything, or anyone, who is more important to me, every second. And so for me, that means we're already sort of married in my head. I guess I wanted to make it official somehow. Maybe I sound like an idiot?" I looked over at her, feeling my heart try to jackhammer its way up my throat. "I never expected to feel this way about someone. — Christina Lauren

Iseult sucked in air, marveling at how her lungs could feel so full against her ribs. Then she closed her eyes. She wanted to make a wish, but there were too many choices. She wished for Safi at her side. She wished for Habim and Mathew too. And, though she couldn't quite understand why, she wished for her mother.
More than anything, Iseult wished for answers. About her magic. About the Cahr Awen.
I wish I could learn what I am. — Susan Dennard

That's why I bake. To fill fairies with goodness."

And it was true, she realized. She didn't run the kitchen just to boss other fairies around. She didn't give orders just to make herself feel important. Well, at least she wouldn't anymore. No. The day before, she hadn't missed that part of her job at all. She had missed the baking. She had missed creating something for others to enjoy.

And, oh, how she wanted to go back to work! — Gail Herman

I have never written a book about my life, despite being offered purses of gold. I made 'Boxes' because I wanted to make a sincere depiction of a daughter who has lost her father, or the jealousy one can feel towards a daughter who has become more beautiful than you and whose stepfather starts to take her shopping. — Jane Birkin

The feel of her hand has never left me. It was different from any other hand I'd ever held, different from any touch I've ever known. It was merely the small, warm hand of a twelve-year-old girl, yet those five fingers and that palm were like a display case crammed full of everything I wanted to know
and everything I had to know. By taking my hand, she showed me what these things were. That within the real world, a place like this existed. In the space of those ten seconds I became a tiny bird, fluttering into the air, the wind rushing by. From high in the sky I could see a scene far away. It was so far off I couldn't make it out clearly, yet something was there, and I knew that someday I would travel to that place. — Haruki Murakami

But you can't feel bad every second, I wanted to tell her. Laughing doesn't make bad things worse any more than crying makes them better. It doesn't mean you don't care, or that you've forgotten. It just means you're human. — Ransom Riggs

Make love to me. Please. I'm dying for it, for you. And therein lay the other major problem. His body was a wreck along with his mind. His past addictions were spinning in desperation and it was taking everything he had to keep from flying apart. The hunger to hurt and be hurt had never been more volatile and each second he didn't connect with Mercy, it grew worse. But how exactly was a monster cyclone supposed to connect with an angel and not rip her apart in ways that made him feel vile and dirty? Fuck, he never wanted to feel that with her. — Lucian Bane

He had locked her out of his mind and out of his life. She could no longer get through to him, to make him feel the way she used to. He just wanted to forget about her and the way she played on his feelings - the same way she used to play on the guitar, he thought, remembering for a minute. He knew now just how badly she had played the guitar. — Cynthia Voigt

The truth of it was he didn't want her. He wanted Mary Kate with every cell of his body. He missed everything about her. The feel of her sleeping at his side. Her gentle snores. Her soft brown curls tickling his nose enough to wake him from a sound sleep even on nights when he needed it most. Her smile. The smell of her. At odd moments he thought he had heard her laughter, or he'd catch a glimpse of her in the corner of an eye, but all of it was a lie, and every time it happened it was as if someone had ripped a deep wound in his chest. The pain was raw enough to make him want to take a razor to his wrist, but each time he considered acting upon the idea something stopped him, and so, he stumbled on barely alive and wishing for an end. At times he couldn't breathe, couldn't move without wanting to scream. — Stina Leicht

Simple, Kate wanted to say. I'm already dead.
Instead, she'd pressed her lips together so hard it made her eyes water as she'd grabbed her prescriptions. The ones her therapist had assured her would help with the nausea and the insomnia. In reality, they'd nothing except make her feel as if she were underwater. Kate kept taking them in the hope she might eventually drown. — Kimberly McCreight

...this was false hope - a sustaining myth between them. They didn't struggle on account of a failure to find the solution to their problems: There was not some mode of togetherness that...would make him feel that her love had depth and warmth, that she wanted to be with him and not a version of him that she might fashion. Their problems were a fact of their togetherness itself. — Joshua Max Feldman

It worried him. Like him, she had to be exhausted. She smelled like gasoline; her clothes were torn. She had a small white bandage on her forehead where the EMT had cleaned her cut. Dirt smudged her face, her arms, her legs. He knew she still didn't have any underwear, and for the first time, he felt bad about it. Real bad. He wanted to protect her, make her feel secure, keep her from harm - and all he'd done was lose her underwear and practically get her blown up. — Tara Janzen

This has been a perfect day," Anne said quietly.
"Almost," Daniel whispered, and then she was in his arms again. He kissed her, but it was different this time. Less urgent. Less fiery. The touch of their lips was achingly soft, and maybe it didn't make her feel crazed, like she wanted to press herself against him and take him within her. Maybe instead he made her feel weightless, as if she could take his hand and float away, just as long as he never stopped kissing her. Her entire body tingled, and she stood on her tiptoes, almost waiting for the moment she left the ground.
And then he broke the kiss, pulling back just far enough to rest his forehead against hers. "There," he said, cradling her face in his hands. "Now it's a perfect day. — Julia Quinn

Lark soaked in the claw foot tub with the dogs sleeping nearby. I knew she was tired and pretending otherwise. Eventually, the day would come when she would look at me and admit the pregnancy hormones were a pain in the ass. When she did so, I would baby the hell out of her and make her feel like a princess. Until then, she wanted to put on a brave face without admitting she took mini-naps through out the day. — Bijou Hunter

She'd forgotten how the gentle glide of lips could make her entire body feel wanted. Needed. Cherished. — Robin Bielman

One day, she would live someplace where she could stand outside her house and see only stars, no streetlights, where she could feel as close as she ever got to sharing her mother's gift. When she looked at the stars, something tugged at her, something that urged her to see more than stars, to make sense of the chaotic firmament, to pull an image from it. But it never made sense. She only ever saw Leo and Cepheus, Scorpio and Draco. Maybe she just needed more horizon and less city. The only thing was, she didn't really want to see the future. What she wanted was to see something no one else could see or would see, and maybe that was asking for more magic than was in the world. — Maggie Stiefvater

She blushes a deep red, then an even deeper hue with both Delia and I hasten to explain that I'm not Sophie's father.
There have been times, I'll admit, that I wished I was. Like when Delia put my hand on her belly so that I could feel Sophie kicking inside, and I thought: I should have been the one to make that happen. But for all the nights I lay in bed as a teenager, imagining what it would be like to be Eric, with the freedom to touch her whenever I wanted, or breathing in the smell of my pillow after she'd sprawled on my bed studying for a test on Hamlet, or even feeling my pulse jump when we were both patting Greta after a find and our hands brushed
for all those times, there were a thousand others that did not belong to me. — Jodi Picoult

A woman will rarely do anything during a pickup that makes her feel responsible for what may happen between the two of you. To whatever degree she feels responsible, her anti-slut defense will be activated.
Thus she has a need for plausible deniability. For example, if you were to say to her, "Hey, let's go back to my place and have sex," she would have to say no, even though she wanted to say yes, because saying yes would make her responsible for what is happen - - which she was never be.
But if instead you were to say, "Hey, let's stop by my place on the way to that party; I have to show you my tropical fish," now she has an excuse and plausbile deniability to stop by your place and then - oopsie! - have sex with you. "One thing led to another... — Mystery

Returning to her position beneath the skylight, she yanked her arm down. The end of a length of rope tumbled into the room. "Oh, Mr. Addison. I never give something for nothing."
He found that he wasn't quite ready for her to leave. "Perhaps we could negotiate."
She released the rope, approaching him with a walk that looked half Catwoman and all sexy. "I already suggested that, and you turned me down. But be careful. Somebody wants you dead. And you have no idea how close somebody like me can get, without you ever knowing," she
murmured, lifting her face to his.
Jesus. She practically gave off sparks. He could feel the hairs on his arms lifting. "I would know," he returned in the same low tone, taking a slow step closer, daring her to make the next move. If she did, he was going to touch her. He wanted to touch her, badly. The heat coming off her body was almost palpable. — Suzanne Enoch

Still adore me?" he said into that kiss, his tone husky. A tone between lovers, between mates, between a man and the only woman he had ever wanted.

"Too much," was her response. "I only feel whole when I'm with you. Does that make me weak?"

The cat stretched out inside him as she pressed kisses along his jawline, down his neck. "If you're weak, then so am I." He could function without her but in the way a machine functions. His heart, his soul, he had given to her a long time ago. — Nalini Singh

Don't be upset," he whispered.
"I couldn't stop it from happening," she said in a plaintive voice.
"You weren't supposed to," he said tenderly. "I was playing with you. Teasing you."
"But I wanted it to last longer. It's our wedding night, and it's already over." Pausing, Beatrix added glumly, "At least my part of it is."
Christopher averted his face, but she could see that he was struggling to contain a laugh. When he had mastered himself, he looked down at her with a slight smile and smoothed her hair back from her face. "I can make you ready again."
Beatrix was quiet for a moment as she evaluated her spent nerves and limp body. "I don't think so," she said. "I feel like a wrung-out kitchen mop."
"I promise to make you ready again," he said, his voice threaded with amusement.
"It will take a long time," Beatrix said, still frowning.
Gathering her into his arms, Christopher crushed his mouth over hers. "I can only hope so. — Lisa Kleypas

Someone should go take a look. See what's in it. He said it, but he really didn't want to be the one to do it. Let's go together, she said easily. She surprised him with her courage. Sometimes you have the worst ideas, he responded. He'd tried to make it feel sarcastic, but he knew the truth of it far more than he wanted to admit to himself. He was terrified. — James Dashner

Kiss me," I whispered. Make me forget, for a night, that this isn't real. Make me believe that this could be my life. That I'm not betraying everything I know to be here, to feel like this.

Ember bent down. Her lips touched mine, and my doubts vanished. The soldier disappeared. Everything disappeared, except her. I felt nothing but her hands on my skin, her lips, her bodey pressed agaqinst me. I kissed her until I was consumed with her, searing this moment into my consciousness, driving away the soldier and St. George and everything about the war. I would get back to it tomorrow. Tonight, I wanted to be normal.

Tonight, Garret the soldier didn't exist. — Julie Kagawa

I kissed her because I had to. I kissed her because I wanted to. I kissed her because kissing her was starting to make me feel like I had found something I wasn't really aware I had been looking for. Mostly I kissed her because ever time she kissed me back I felt her settling a piece of herself even more deeply inside of me. — Jay Crownover

I always knew, even as a kid, that my mom had a really rough life, and I always wanted to make her feel happy and to make her feel good. — Cristela Alonzo

You are so beautiful," he whispered. He stepped closer, but before she could touch him he took her hand and brought it to his lips.
"When I saw you tonight I think my heart stopped beating."
"And is it now?" she whispered.
He took her hand and laid it over his heart. She could feel it pounding beneath his skin, almost hear it reverberating through her own body. He was so strong, and so solid, and so wonderfully male.
"Do you know what I wanted to do?" he murmured.
She shook her head, too entranced by the low heat of his voice to make a noise of her own.
"I wanted to turn you around and push you right back through the door before anyone else saw you. I didn't want to share you." He traced her lips with his finger. "I still don't. — Julia Quinn

I wanted to confront her, to make her see the folly of her religion, to change her diet, to help her spend less on makeup and other nonessentials, to make her worship every biological moment she was offered instead of some badly punctured deity. I also wanted to kiss her for some reason, feel the life pulsing in those big Catholic lips, remind myself of the primacy of the living animal, of my time amongst the Romans. — Gary Shteyngart

She was all that he wanted from life. Looking at her made him feel nostalgic. It was just like his innocent childhood. When he didn't care much, about anything and anybody. All that mattered was that he was happy. And if not happy, he would find things, people, tasks, that would make him happy.
It was as easy as that. To not complicate. Always simplify. — Anushka Bhartiya

Jacob,
I'm breaking the rules by sending you this. She was afraid of hurting you, and she didn't want to make you feel obligated in any way. But I know that, if things had gone the other way, I would have wanted the choice.
I promise I will take care of her, Jacob. Thank you-for her- for everything.
Edward. — Stephenie Meyer

Ara?"
She jerked her face up. "Huh? Where were we?"
But his expression had grown serious, the lesson forgotten. He interlaced his fingers and said, "We are bound."
"Bound?"
He collected a piece of rope, knotting it.
"Oh, you mean bound?"
He gave a nod, then drew in the sand.
An infinity symbol? "Clever demon, how did you know that ... ?"
He was gazing at her with a question in his eyes.
"Bound forever?" And somehow she met his gaze and lied, "Yes, demon. Bound forever."
As if to make her feel guiltier, he gathered her into his arms, cupping her face against his broad chest. His voice a deep rumble, he said, "Carrow is Malkom's."
She wanted to sob.
"Yes?"
"Yes," she answered, wishing that it could be so simple between them. Demon meets girl. Girl might be falling for demon. — Kresley Cole

Ultimately I think I learned a lot from my mother - the way she used fashion to make herself feel better; it was a tool she had and she used it very well. Fashion for her wasn't so far as an escape, but certainly a time where she would sit on her own and prepare what she wanted to wear the next day - it turned into bit of a ritual. — Matthew Williamson

I didn't know whether I wanted to kill her or fuck her. Maybe both, but one thing was for sure. One way or another, I was going to make her scream. I was finally starting to feel like my old self again. — Anonymous

And I think she works so much becasue she can be in control of it, you know?' I said. She nodded. 'It makes her feel, I don't know, safe.'
I can understand that,' Delia said softly. 'Losing someone can make you feel very out of control. Totally so.'
I know,' I said. 'But it's not really fair. Like, after my dad died, I wanted to be okay for her. So I was. Even when I had to fake it. But now, when I really do feel okay, she's not happy with me. Because I'm not perfect anymore.'
Grieving doesn't make you imperfect,' Delia said quietly, as Bert came back out to the van, adjusting one of the carts inside. 'It makes you human. We all deal with things differently. — Sarah Dessen

I would take them a few times, feel my emotions and sense of reality fuzz, and look at my mother who had been doped up on them since we moved to Chattanooga. I would see her blank, hazel eyes, and her bright, but empty, smile with chronic, artificial, exaggerated cheer, and become scared. I often wondered if she was buried under layers upon layers of southern sugar. I would make bitchy, inappropriate statements and look for her. I would say something, anything to shake her and look into her eyes for something real. I saw it when she was upset or afraid. I saw it when she'd spot me exiting my bathroom, hair tied back, knowing what I'd done. I saw it when she found out I was raped. I saw it when I told her about the drugs I used. I saw flickers of a real person, but she quickly disappeared within herself once she gathered composure. I decided not to be like her. Even if it meant embracing my demons, I wanted to be real. After a couple doses, I would toss the meds in the garbage. — Maggie Young

She looked like she believed in something, or wanted to, and I hoped to hell it wasn't God, not in the way The Dad believes, because all that does is make him forced and desperate. No, it was something else, not just that I saw a pretty girl and just got all excited. I mean, yeah, that part is true, and she really was gorgeous, and the freckles covering her, the freckles on top of freckles all spread out and folding into one another made her skin look like it had grain and texture, like polished wood, like it would feel smooth to the touch, and so soft. I knew that. But it wasn't how she looked. — Brad Barkley

He'll be okay. We'll take care of him. Even when he's having a bad day, we'll do our best to make him feel safe."
"Thank you, Frankie. I knew you would. That's why I'm here."
For him.
And for me.
For you.
I'm here for you.
I want you in my life again.
Even if all you'll give me is your friendship.
Fuck that. That will never be enough for me.
Not with you.
There was so much I wanted to tell her but couldn't. — Penelope Ward

All the stories, all the incidents that made the life were stopped in a second - opinions stopped, and the ability to feel, all stopped without any meaning.'He wanted to make himself know what happened, for he could feel the beginning of the calm settling upon him. He wanted to cry out once in personal pain before he was cut off and unable to feel sorrow or resentment. There were little stinging drops of cold on his head. He looked up and saw that it was raining gently. The drops fell on Elizabeth's cheeks and flashed in her hair. — John Steinbeck

I wanted to be with her, like all the time. Eliminate the obstacles, the people and things in our lives that were keeping us apart: Brandi, Seth, Kirsten, society, me.
Me? Make that my fear. What was I afraid of, exactly? What other people would think? I guess, a little. But that wasn't what was stopping me from acting on my feelings. It was the intensity of them. The desire for her. I knew if I gave into it, I'd have to surrender myself completely. I'd lose all control. Everything I knew, everything I was, the walls I'd built up to protect myself all these years would come crashing down. I might get lost in the rubble. Yet, she made me feel alive in a way I'd only ever imagined I could feel. Bells, whistles, music. (Chapter. 15) — Julie Anne Peters