Making Him Mine Quotes & Sayings

I have to ask. Why do you like me?"
He shifted away from me then, his brows pulled together making him look even cuter, if that was possible. "I don't understand the question." His hands were squeezing mine tightly as he looked down at them. "You're my Lilly. You've always been my Lilly. — Amber L. Johnson

I press into him, deepening our kiss. His arms wrap around me, constricting me, making me feel safe and warm. I reach up and cup his cheek. He pulls back a little and says, "Say it."
Confused, I pull back further and look into his hooded eyes. He repeats, "Say it, baby."
It dawns on me and with a small smile, I tell him sincerely, "I love you, Asher Collins."
Looking pained, he closes his eyes and rests his forehead on mine. He whispers, "Don't deserve you. Not even a bit. But as long as you want me, you got me."
My eyes close and I whisper, "Don't leave me. Ever."
"Never. You're my girl," he replies seriously. — Belle Aurora

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

He wrapped her hair around his fist, tilted her head back, and kissed her. Hard. She moaned into him, and he pulled away.
"Possessive much?" she asked on a laugh.
"Just making sure these hooligans know you're mine."
Her brow rose. "Really? Yours? Talk about caveman."
"I'm a Gallagher, baby, I'm as caveman as they come. — Carrie Ann Ryan

I pushed passed him. He grabbed my hand and swung me back towards him. Then he pushed me against the wall and ... he kissed me.
He ran his thumb along my jawline and down my throat, hips pinning me to the wall. He kissed me slowly and with intensity, and once I got over the mind-numbing shock and comprehended what was actually happening, it was incredible. I had never been kissed like that before. We melted together. Every movement of mine was somehow perfectly mirrored by his. My heart was pounding so hard I knew he must be able to feel it and I was sure my legs were giving way, but he held me up, pushed me harder against the wall.
I grabbed a handful of his hair, remembering all the times I'd dreamed of doing it. I let my hand drift down his back and pulled him even closer to me. It all happened so quickly. I heard him make a low kind of growl and lean into me. His hand slid down my leg behind my knee, drawing it to him. I moaned and felt him tense. — Jessica Shirvington

What did you do to your hair? I don't like it as
much."
His brow knitted. "How do you like it?"
"I prefer the curls."
He looked as if she'd told him she preferred him with three eyes. "You used to make fun of them. You told me that if Bo Peep had a child with one of her sheep it would have hair like mine."
She burst out laughing - and gasped at the pain that shot through her scalp. "You are not making it up, are you? Did I really say that?"
"Sometimes you called me Goldilocks."
She had to remind herself not to laugh again. "And you married me? I sound like a very odious sort of girl."
"I was a very odious sort of boy, so you might say we were evenly matched."
She didn't know enough to comment upon that, but when he was near, she was ... happier. — Sherry Thomas

A good friend of mine took me out and had me hit off a tee. He made me understand what was my strike zone and - with my speed - the importance of making contact. So I give him a lot of credit for changing my game and making me the player I became. He showed me how to work on me and my game, and not worry about patterning myself after someone else and focusing on what they were capable of doing rather than what I was capable of doing. — Rickey Henderson

He arched a brow. "Miss Lahey, are you flirting with me?"
"Well, hot stuff, if you have to ask, I'm not doing it right."
His laughter rumbled low, slithering heat underneath my skin. I pulled him to me, backing him against the table, risking a literal firestorm as his lips laid upon mine with a burning promise of
"That's how babies are made!"
I reeled back and knocked over a chair. "Aunt M!"
"Sex kills!"
"M, seriously." Mom walked into the kitchen and rolled her eyes.
My aunt patted her belly. "It killed my waistline." Then she cackled.
Who was the banshee now?
"Ayden and Rory sitting in a tree," Selena sing-songed, "making b-a-b-b-y-n-g."
"Mom!"
"Selena," Mom admonished. "That's not the right spelling. — A&E Kirk

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

Come along." He bent and caught her behind the knees, hoisting her into his arms. "Benjamin!" She looped her arms around his neck. "You'll do yourself an injury." She was substantial, but in the best possible, most womanly way. "I will not - because you so religiously forgo your sweets." "Only when anybody is looking." She let him carry her into the bedroom and lay her down on the bed. Someone had turned down the covers, and a half-dozen pillows were piled on a chair near the window. Ben started throwing more pillows on the floor. "What are you about, my lord?" "You can have done with my lording, or I'll start in with my ladying. I'm making room. You disguise it well, but that bed is big enough for the both of us. Where is the dog?" "He sleeps in my office. There's a bed for him there. Perhaps he might share it with you, because I have no interest in sharing mine." "Not — Grace Burrowes

I couldn't breathe. I wanted him to keep touching me; I wanted to feel his whole body against mine again. But Rylan was here. Rylan was listening. Rylan, who had cared for me all along.
"Thank you," I said, my voice unsteady, and somehow I made myself move and turn away from his touch to stare at the tent again, my heart hammering. Rylan's back was still turned to me, but I could see how stiff he was, as if every muscle in his body was clenched.
"I hope you are able to rest well Alex," Damien said.
"You too," I said, making myself close my eyes, to pretend I was going to sleep. But inside, I thought, Rest well? Is he serious?
It was going to be a long night. — Sara B. Larson

One day I'm going to catch you in a full-blown grin, Mr.Tucker," she said, wagging a finger at him, "and when I do, watch out because I'm going to crow in victory." "We all need goals in life, Miss Richards." J.T. swung two boards up onto his shoulder and peered down at her. "Mine's to get this stuff delivered before the first snow falls. You think I got a chance at making that happen? — Karen Witemeyer

Things aren't like this," he kept repeating. "It shouldn't be this way." As if he had access to some other plane of existence, some parallel, "right" universe, and had sensed that our time had somehow been put out of joint. Such was his vehemence that I found myself believing him, believing, for example, in the possibility of that other life in which Vina had never left and we were making our lives together, all three of us, ascending together to the stars. Then he shook his head, and the spell broke. He opened his eyes, grinning ruefully. As if he knew his thoughts had infected mine. As if he knew his power. "Better get on with it," he said. "Make do with what there is. — Salman Rushdie

There then occurred the first and only paranormal incident of my marriage. Charlie shifted in his sleep, opened his eyes, looked at me and, without preamble, said, "You have to forgive yourself for killing that boy." ... "For your own sake but for mine, too," he was saying, and his voice was hoarse from sleep yet also certain and insistent. "If you don't forgive yourself, you're making that accident too important, you're making him too important." Charlie paused. "And I want to be the love of your life. — Curtis Sittenfeld

Wyatt gave him a look, making it obvious he thought Clay had lost his mind. "You telling me you think a piece of pie's gonna fix my problems?"
"Why not?" Clay laughed. "Fixed mine. — Kele Moon

I squirmed in his hold, but it didn't take me long to give up. His grip was too strong. My arms laced around his neck and I glared up at him. "That sounds more like you having your way until you decide to let me have mine."
"Yeah, that's about right."
"I don't want you to carry me."
"Well, what you want and what's actually going to happen are two very different realities."
"What kind of convoluted crap is that?"
"True convoluted crap. Now stop busting my balls and let me carry you."
I sighed, making sure it was long and overly dramatic. — Rachael Wade

Perhaps someone will have seen mine, the one I'm waiting for, just as I saw him, in a ditch when his hands were making their last appeal and his eyes no longer could see. Someone who will never know what that man was to me; someone whose name I'll never know. — Marguerite Duras

He'd moved toward me again. His hands released mine and moved to my waist, and I noticed I wasn't the only one breathing heavily. He pulled me to him, bringing our bodies together. The world was all heat and electricity, thick with tension that was only one spark away from exploding around us. I was balancing on another precipice, which wasn't easy to do in heels. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and this time I was the one who drew him closer. — Richelle Mead

Possession brightened his blue eyes, making them glow with the power of his wolf. Blazing need made her body shudder. "Mine," she whispered. This might be the only time she could say that. And she knew the word had deep meaning with shifters. Even though it was a dream, he had to know how badly she wanted him. — Milly Taiden

This time I look at him longer, properly, scanning his face for some sign of what he is thinking - some judgment, some hint of blame or guilt that I'm standing there, talking about leaving his people and mine, about abandoning our whole lives. About running away. But he only smiles at me, his fingers sliding from my cheek to twine around a floating lock of hair, making it spiral in midair. — Amie Kaufman

The thing is, I don't know if these stories he was telling were mine, or his, or someone else's. You spend your life among words, listening, making sense out of what you say and out of what you imagine other people are saying to you, believing that something in particular happened like this or that, as a result of this or that, with these or those consequences. But it is never so simple, is it? I suppose that if we read about ourselves in a book, we wouldn't recognize ourselves, we wouldn't realize that those people doing certain things and behaving in a particular manner are us. I always believed that I knew Alejandro, that I knew him intimately, I mean, the way you might know a doll you've once taken to pieces. But it wasn't true. — Alberto Manguel

You're mine," he growls, making a sound filled with the sweetest agony. Then, he's kissing me, hot and hard. "No one gets to touch you but me," he breaths hotly into my mouth. "You got that?"
The intensity of him, the feel of him kissing me, has fried all my brain cells. I couldn't argue if I wanted to.
And I don't. — Samantha Towle

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

I got a head start and ws already hanging upside down when he caught up. All the blood was rushing to my head, making me feel dizzy. "I can't stay like this much longer," I told him."Head rush."
He leaned down and stuck his face next to mine, gifting me with a beautiful smile."I know the feeling," he said. "You give me a head rush all the time. — Jessica Verday

I hate it, all of this," I screamed, my voice breaking. "I even hate him, even him." A huge sob came up from my chest.
And I did, right then. I hated you for everything; for making me feel so helpless everywhere I went, for making me lose control. I hated you for all the emotions in my head, for the confusion ... for the way I was suddenly doubting everything. I hated you for turning my life upside down and then smashing it into shards. I hated you for making me stand with a whirring fan in my hand, screaming at my mum.
But I hated you for something else, too. Right then, and at every moment since you'd left me, all I could think about was you. I wanted you in that apartment. I wanted your arms around me, your face close to mine. I wanted your smell. And I knew I couldn't-shouldn't-have it. That's what I hated most. The uncertainty of you. You'd kidnapped me, put my life in danger ... but I loved you, too. Or thought I did. None of it made sense. — Lucy Christopher

Don't leave me," he whispered, his words making me shiver.
I covered his hands, which held my face, with mine and stared up into eyes that pleaded with to me to stay. "You scare me," I told him honestly.
He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine. He took deep, raspy breaths. "I scare myself," he said. — A Meredith Walters

Again, I whisper.
The corner of his mouth lifts, and then I kiss him. Not so gently this time. His hands drop from my face and grab my waist and pull me to him. A small soft groan excapes him, and that noise makes me feel absolutely crazy. I lose it. I wind my hands around his neck and kiss him without holding anything back. I can feel his heart thundering like mine, his breath coming faster, his arms tightening around me.
And then I can feel what he feels. He's waited for this moment. He loves how I feel in his arms. He loves the smell of my hair. He loves the way I looked at him just now, flushed and wanting more from him. He loves the color of my lips and now the taste of my mouth is making his knees feel weak and he doesn't want to seem weak in front of me. So i draw back, and his breath comes out in a rush. His arms drop away from me. — Cynthia Hand

He shows me that, and I feel it, as he holds me tightly, making love to me. I'm sweaty, and exhausted, by the time it's over. My body is spent from orgasms, and my heart feels like it goes to explode. I say nothing, though, afraid to speak, afraid to offer him any words. Because if I do, I might spew a fucking rainbow. I might spout out the kind of nonsense found in Napoleon's romance novella.
Naz lies on top of me for a moment after he finishes before finally pulling out. He stands up, gathering our clothes, tossing mine to me as I lay on the bed.
"I'm sure now," I manage to say, as I watch Naz getting dressed.
He turns to me. "Yeah?"
I nod as I sit up, clutching a hold of my necklace. "I've got everything I want. — J.M. Darhower

It can be a great temptation to rest on the field and let the opponent have a play without making him pay for every inch. I must hold his pain where it is. Mine does not matter ... The punishment I inflict, his fatigue, and that he is up against something that he does not comprehend is everything. — Jim Harbaugh

He was really trying to be my friend, without all the emotional baggage we both carried - mine still with me, but carefully folded in vacuum bags so they'd occupy as little room as possible and his, hangin on his shoulders like lead armor, making him slouch sometimes. And yet, as pinned down as he was, he was the one comforting me, supporting not only his weight but mine, too. It wasn't fair. — Diana T. Scott

Don't break my heart," he heard her whisper, making him stop for just a second to look her in the eyes.
"I won't. Don't break mine," he responded, making her smile as she pulled him back to her. She wanted his lips on hers again. — Kat Green