Waistband Quotes & Sayings

But who wants to hang aroundfrat guys ? I want to be with guys who have more on their minds than where the next keg party is. I want to be with guys who care about making this world a better place - the way Andrew does. I want to be with guys who know that what's important isn't the size of a girl's waistband but the size of her heart - like Andrew. I want to be with guys who are able to see past a girl's outward appearance, and into her soul - like Andrew. — Meg Cabot

Do you have anything to pick a lock?" She asked desperately.
"Always." I slid one of the three bobby-pins I always kept with me off of my waistband, tossing it to her. — Embee

he only whispers i love you as he slips his hands down the waistband of your pants. this is where you must understand the difference between want and need - you may want that boy but you certainly don't need him — Rupi Kaur

The officious swagger in her gait might have been some flavor of self-possession or the cool skedaddle of a shoplifter making for the door. In either case, the streamer of toilet paper that trailed from the waistband of her tiny skirt like the banner of an advertising airplane pretty much spoiled the effect. — Michael Chabon

Lee leaned forward, caught me by the waistband of my jeans and hauled me back between his legs. — Kristen Ashley

I didn't freak out. I immediately reached around my back, pulling the gun out of my waistband leveling it at the man's face. Well, maybe that was me freaking out. Who knows? — Natalie Carlisle

Jules sidled over to Jason and, without warning, slipped a single finger under the waistband of Jason's pants. "I like the clothes," he said as he looked up at Jason with a challenge in his eyes. Jason calmly extricated Jules's hand, bringing it up between the two of them.
"You don't quit, do you?" Jason chuckled, realizing that he'd not only gotten used to the kid's flirting, but that he was beginning to find it a little bit flattering. His face grew warm with the thought, and he hoped that Jules hadn't noticed.
"Nah. Quitting's not my style. — Shira Anthony

Sprawled out on the photographer's mattress with my clothes lying in a heap somewhere in the kitchen, I pull the waistband of my briefs down to expose my hipbones, and I think of home. — Kris Kidd

It seemed that both had lately had a touch of that pain under the waistband which comes of a sedentary life. — Nikolai Gogol

She wore sensible little cotton panties with a tiny hole near the waistband, which he somehow found terribly charming. — Zoe Chant

If you've tied them up, start by undoing the knot! Lay the toes one on top of the other and fold the stocking in half lengthwise. Then fold it into thirds, making sure that the toes are inside, not outside, and that the waistband protrudes slightly at the top. Finally, roll the stocking up toward the waistband. If the waistband is on the outside when you finish, you've done it right. Fold knee-high stockings the same way. With thicker material, such as tights, it is easier to roll if you fold them in half rather than in thirds. The point is that the stocking should be firm and stable when you've finished, much like a sushi roll. When you store the stockings in your drawer, arrange them on end so that the swirl is visible. — Marie Kondo

He lounged on his side, bare-chested and barefooted, his jeans unbuttoned to show both the waistband of his underwear and the sleek lines of his ripped abs. His dark brown hair was sexily mussed and his emerald eyes were bright with mischief. — Sylvia Day

You don't know anything about me."
"No, I know not everything about you. But I sense enough to know you have mistaken obsession with drive, guilt with injustice. I know you want to escape what you are, cabbage fairy," he said, reaching for his hood and gloves and tucking them into the waistband of his trousers. "Your desires are no different from my own, I simply have the courage to face them. — F.D. Lee

I turn and gaze at him midway. Chin up Steele, I chide myself.
"Oh ... by the way, I'm wearing your underwear." I gave him a small smile and pull up the waistband of the boxer briefs I'm wearing so he can see. Christian's mouth drops open, shocked. What a great reaction. My mood shifts immediately, and I sashay into the house, part of me wanting to jump and punch the air. — E.L. James

I sighed, sinking back, head filling with pleasant images; pictures Pietr floated to the surface. Kisses scorched along my face and neck. "Pietr ... "
There was a growl, and I felt fingers at the waistband of my jeans. The button opened and a hand traced along the top of my underpants.
"No," I said. The kissing resumed, harder. "Jessica." The word rumbled in someone's throat. Not Pietr's. To him, I was Jess.
"No," I insisted, trying to pry my eyes open. Something was wrong ... Not Pietr ... I pushed at the chest above me, my eyelids stinging as I willed them apart.
"Relax ... " a voice said, lips dragging along the cornerof my jaw, filling my head with honey, sticky and sweet ... — Shannon Delany

The boat bounced hard on the waves. Reflexively, Tally shot out a hand to brace herself on the closest stable object.
She stared in horror at her own pale fingers gripping the front waistband of the pirate's shorts.
His purple Hawaiian shorts were now riding low, very low, on his hips, as the weight of her hand dragged the fabric down.
And down ... — Cherry Adair

You will never have to worry about safety. Being a Dardano will buy you all the security you'll ever need."
Bree shook her head and threw her hands up. "Being a Dardano will put the bulls eye on my back, you asshole,"
"Really, darling, once you become Mrs. Dardano, we're going to have to work on cleaning up that saucy mouth of yours. At least in public," Alessandro purred, tapping her nose.
Bree saw red. But she smiled at him. She took the plate from him and set it down on the vanity table. Then she took the vitamin shake, pulled out the waistband of his pants and poured it down inside. — E. Jamie

The man called Gareth was laughing into his mobile phone as the door opened. There were gold rings on each of his fingers, chains dangling from his neck and wrists. He wasn't tall but he was wide. Rebus got the impression much of it was fat. A gut hung over his waistband. He was balding badly, and had allowed what hair he had to grow uncut, so that it hung down to the back of his collar and beyond. He wore a black leather trenchcoat and black T-shirt, with baggy denims and scuffed trainers. He already had his free hand out for the cash, wasn't expecting another hand to grab it and haul him inside the flat. He dropped the phone, swearing and finally taking note of Rebus. — Ian Rankin

Maybe you're sleepwalking. And sleeptexting. And sleepprimping."
"What's next?" I grumbled to myself. Things were getting more out of control by the minute.
"I don't know," she said, straightening up and tucking her phone into the waistband of her leggings. "Just don't start sleepfucking. — Karina Halle

His mouth claimed hers again, hotly and hungrily. It drew breath from her. As he kissed her, his hand moved to the front of her slacks. He fumbled with the button and zipper until they were undone. When his hand slid into the elastic waistband of her panties, Rusty gasped. She had thought there would be a sensual buildup, a flirtatious progression, extended foreplay.
She didn't regret that there wouldn't be. His boldness, his impatience, was a powerful aphrodisiac. It set off explosions of desire deep within her. She tilted her hips forward and filled his palm with her softness.
He muttered swearwords that were in themselves arousing because they explicitly expressed the height of his arousal.
Like a Rod Stewart song, they were viscerally sexy, one couldn't hear them without thinking of a male and a female mating. — Sandra Brown

We'll have a sauna first."
"Oh,will we?"
"Yeah." He hooked a hand in the waistband of her trousers and drew her closer. "Open the pores a bit." In a quick move, he unhooked them, then drew them over her hips.
"Since you insist." Shelby began undoing his tie. "Have you noticed, Senator, that most of the time you wear a great many more clothes than I?"
"As a matter of fact ... " He slipped his hands under her blouse and found her. "I have. — Nora Roberts

You nervous about doing this on camera?"
Chance tilted his head a little, considering. "Well, yeah, of course. You don't know what you look like when you come - for all I know, I'm hella ugly or something. But at the same time ... " He trailed off and shuddered, and his eyes got half-lidded. One hand went unconsciously to his stomach, then slid up to his nipples, which were still pointy and puckered. "It's sort of cool. It's making my stomach all jumpy, and ... " His other hand slid down under the waistband of his shorts, as he made obvious kneading motions on his groin.
"It's turning you on?"
"Mmmm ... "
"Take the shorts off, Chance, and show us. — Amy Lane

Eva and I walked downstairs, and I was definitely not prepared for what I saw. Jason was on top of the kitchen table in nothing but his boxers, swinging his shirt around his head. He was singing something, but I couldn't make out the words. I laughed, my hand shooting to my mouth as I watched Tyler try to coax him down while Eva picked up the clothes that were strewn all over the floor.
"Evaaaa, why don't you come up here and strip with me, just like you did the other night! Come on, baby!" he said, swinging his hips as if he were dancing to music that we could all hear.
Eva slapped her palm to her forehead, and Charlotte laughed hard.
When Jason touched the waistband of his boxers, I closed my eyes as I and everyone around me screamed, "No! — Alexandria Rhodes

Teta stuffed the remains of his sombrero in his waistband and said, "You've gone off the deep end, jefe. Lucky for you, I have too. — Hunter Shea

I hung my fingertips on his waistband, tugging him closer.
Patch buried his face in the curve of my shoulder, his hands flexing over my back. He gave a low groan.
"I love you," he murmured into my hair. "I'm happier right now than I ever remember being. — Becca Fitzpatrick

If she thought I was about to do the whole "have a conversation with the villain" thing, she was dead wrong. I raised one hand while the other reached into my waistband for the grimoire. One super magical destructo-blast coming up. — Rachel Hawkins

He whispered her name as he pressed his forehead against hers. "So this is what love feels like." His fingers tightened possessively around the back of her neck, the pad of his thumb of his thumb caressing her soft skin.
Her lashes fluttered, eyes going a vibrant green. Her mouth curved into a soft smile. "You say the most beautiful things, Gavriil. You should have been a poet."
He brushed a kiss over each eye and slipped his gun into the waistband at the small of his back before straightening. "I'm a poet with a knife or gun."
-Gavriil & Lexi — Christine Feehan

You can lead if you want." He whipped them around so he moved backward, pulling her with him across the floor.
"You're still leading," she said.
"Perception is a tricky thing." He kissed the side of her neck, and shivers followed.
"I know on way to lead."
She dropped her hand from his shoulder to the band of his shorts, and slipped her hand in his waistband. He sucked in a breath, and her hand snaked downward. She stroked the length of him, feeling him grow hard and rigid.
"Mei." He pulled her closer... — Susannah Scott

Saiman reached into the trunk and pulled out a pink tulle tutu.
"No."
"Yes."
"It won't fit."
"Elastic waistband," Saiman said. "It will fit." Curran's grin was pure evil.
"Don't you dare," I told him.
"It's too bad the magic is up," he said. "I'd take pictures."
"Shut up."
"Have no fear, Alpha," Ascanio said. "We'll tell no one."
Kill me, somebody.
Saiman held out the tulle skirt to me.
"Maybe it will work without it."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"If I put this on, it will be ridiculous."
Saiman waved the pink tutu in front of me. Fine. I snatched it out of his hands and pulled it on over my hips.
Ascanio collapsed into a moaning heap of laughter.
"Now what?"
"Move around onstage. It would help if you danced."
Curran was dying. That was the only rational explanation for the noises coming from his direction. — Ilona Andrews

He pressed the blade of his sword into the ground. As he pulled his arm over his head for a stretch, a bead of sweat trickled down his neck and over a row of muscles on his stomach. I swallowed hard. The window's edge dug into my skin but I refused to move an inch. The tiny droplet disappeared into the waistband of his shorts. I had seen plenty of guys in gym class with their shirts off, but none of them looked like...that. He was physical perfection - a living work of art.

I sat on my knees with my chin relaxed on my crossed arms, unable to look away.

"Enjoying the view?" he said, eyes suddenly on me. His chiseled face wore an overly confident grin. Clearly he was used to being admired.

My cheeks burned.

I stood, pretending to check out the scenery. "Not much to see."

He raised an eyebrow, letting me know he knew I was full of crap. — Stacey O'Neale

...Stella's tiny butt stuck in the air as she stretched to reach a weed. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a button-down pink and white checked shirt that was tucked into the elastic waistband of her pants. She reminded Rusty of an elf. "Excuse me, Stella?" "You stop right there if you have trouble on your mind. As you can see, I have plenty of birds, and I'll knock you out with one of them," Stella said without looking up. Rusty wanted to say that she'd yank up her own plastic flamingo and work Stella over with it in a heartbeat. Instead, she took a calming breath and said, "I made something you might like to have." "If it's a grenade launcher, I'm listening, Achmed. — Robin Alexander

Cam shook his head. 'Do you ever listen to how much crazy shit comes out of your mouth?'
'Nope.' I hooked my fingers into his waistband and pulled him closer. 'Nobody does. That's why I remain undiagnosed.' — Lisa Henry

Ayden came down the hall as I tucked the gun in the back of my waistband and Taser in my pocket. He raised a brow. "Weapons?"
"It's how she shows she cares.
A & E Kirk (2014-05-26). Drop Dead Demons: The Divinicus Nex Chronicles: Book 2 (Divinicus Nex Chronicles series) (p. 481). A&E Kirk. Kindle Edition. — A&E Kirk

Madness was all very well if you were Alma and in a profession where insanity was a desirable accessory, a kind of psycho-bling. You couldn't get away with it down Martin's Yard, though. In the reconditioning business there was no real concept of delightful eccentricity. You'd find yourself as the recipient of a pharmaceutical lobotomy provided on the National Health, as a result of which your waistband would expand as your abilities to think, talk and respond to stimuli contracted. This — Alan Moore

I looked up to see the sailing ship above me, the prow dipped low and Mircea hanging off the end of the wooden figurehead. His fist was knotted in my waistband, which explained why I couldn't breathe. Considering the alternative, I really didn't mind so much.
Even so, I was surprised his reflexes had been good enough to catch me. He looked kind of shocked himself. For a second, the reserved demeanor cracked open on something wild and fierce and compelling. Then he dragged me up, put a hand on either side of my face and kissed me full on the lips. From somewhere above, I heard Pritkin swear. — Karen Chance

Men got two guns, you know. One for now," he tapped the barrel of his gun against her nose. "And one for later." When his free hand went to his zipper, she twisted underneath him, bringing her knee into his groin and pulling her knife from her boot.
"Mother taught me to carry a knife for always."
She left him holding his intestines in disbelief as she disappeared down the hill, his gun tucked securely in her waistband. — Mindy McGinnis

His eyes trace the droplets branching down my chest.
They stop at my waistband.
"Brandon. Cutie."
"Yeah."
"You're still wearing your boxers."
"I am."
"Is there something you need to tell me?"
"No."
"Are you actually a Ken doll?"
"Nope."
"Is your dad a secret superhero and you have a bionic penis and you make up this big religious-paranoia back story because it shoots laser beams and has the strength of a bulldozer?"
"Yes."
"I knew it. — J.C. Lillis

Captain! To your left there's a Lunar guard and on your right is a doctor who's running tests on Lunars and I'm being held by one of Levana's wolf hybrids and please be careful!"
Thorne took a step back into the hallway a gun from his waistband. He spent a moment swiveling the barrel of the gun in each direction, but nobody moved to attack him.
With some surprise, Cress realized that the operative's grip had weakened.
"Er ... " Thorne furrowed his brow, aiming the gun somewhere near the window. "Could you describe all those threats again because I feel like I missed something. — Marissa Meyer

You can never go wrong betting on Americans' bad eating habits. So I've made a ton investing in all fast food chains, while at the same time investing in Dockers, spandex, Spanx, and sweatpants. Basically, anything with an elastic waistband is a goldmine. — Carol Leifer

You could say I'm on the troubleshooting squad."
"Troubleshooting?"
He put a hand on the back of his waistband. "I see trouble and I shoot it. — Karen Chance

Great. Okay. That, uh ... was easier than I thought."
Jack cocked his head. Wait a second ... He couldn't decide if he was pissed or really impressed. He hooked a finger into the waistband of the workout pants she'd changed into and pulled her closer. "Did you fake me out with those tears, Cameron?"
She peered up at him, defiantly, seemingly outraged by the suggestion. "Are you kidding? What, after the day I've had, I'm not entitled to a few tears? Sheesh."
Jack waited.
"This wedding is very important to me
I can't believe you're even doubting me. Honestly, Jack, the tears were real."
He waited some more. She would talk eventually. They always did.
Cameron shifted under the weight of his stare. "Okay, fine. Some of the tears were real." She looked him over, annoyed. "You are really good at that."
He grinned. "I know. — Julie James

Still seated, Jordan lowered his pants to midthigh and rolled down the waistband of his boxer briefs, exposing a set of V-shaped hip flexor muscles that were bound to make an appearance in her dreams tonight. She — Melissa Landers

Don't you like them?" She ran her fingers across the waistband of
her panties.
"I'm afraid I can't appreciate them in such low lighting. You will have to take them off and let me have a better look." He tried to smile innocently.
She rested her hands on her hips and shook her head slowly.
"Very well. I will have to do it for you." He took a step closer to her. — Elizabeth Morgan

She had a choice. For one brilliant moment, it beamed at her with an unusual clarity, fixing itself in her mind. She could push her fingers into the waistband of his shorts and discover the precise scope of Levi's desire, or she could withdraw her hand and let whatever was between them continue to build. Either way, the end would be the same. Levi would walk away with some piece of her. The only question was, how big of a chunk would he take? Which path would bring the most heartache? It was coming, like a train steaming down the tracks, a frightening rush of noise and smoke and unstoppable momentum. Her only choices lay in the when and the how. — Lucy Varna

Ruger in his waistband. Then he switched the .357 to his — James Patterson

Mom," Nathan called to her.
Daisy pulled her gaze from the tent and the fleeting glimpse of Jack's bare back, the smooth planes and indent of his spine, the sliver of the white elastic just above the blue waistband of his jeans ... "Hmm?"
"What's a faaar ant?" he asked just above a whisper.
"Fire." She chuckled and shook her head. "Fire ant. They have a nasty bite that burns."
Nathan smiled. "Well, why didn't he just say fire?"
"He thinks he did. — Rachel Gibson

The music cuts out and suddenly my breathing sounds really loud. It also seems to amplify his whole nakedness.
I stare at him. Actually I try not to stare at him but it's kind of hard not to. I mean, he's standing there topless in front of me and his stomach looks like it just walked out of an Abercrombie catalogue. Sweat has darkened the waistband of his jeans. He's holding a spanner in one hand, the tyre in the other. — Sarah Alderson

I want to be with guys who have more on their minds than where the next keg party is.
I want to be with guys who care about making this world a better place.
I want to be with guys who know that what's important isn't the size of a girl's waistband but the size of her heart.
I want to be with guys who are able to see past a girls outward appearance, and into her soul. — Meg Cabot

Shane's orgasmic contribution was an innovative and masterful variation on the theme of oh:
"Oh ... Oh ... oh ... oh ... oh ... oh ... oh ... oh ... AH!"
Stretching the waistband of my boxers I addressed the man downstairs, "make a note Mr Brown. Buy Dick and Shane a copy of The Penguin Anthology Of Orgasmic Utterances for Christmas: surprise and delight your partner, fuck buddies and neighbours with your sparkling and witty climactic repartee, you'l have them cumming back for more. — Gillibran Brown

He swapped the fistful of my shirt for one in my hair, and ground his mouth against mine.
I exploded.
I shoved at him, and clawed him closer. He shoved me back, and yanked me tighter to his body. I pulled his hair. He pulled mine. He didn't fight fair. Actually, he fought exactly fair. He didn't extend courtesies, not a single one.
I bit his lip. He tripped me and pushed me down to the stone floor of the cavern. I punched him. He straddled me.
I ripped his shirt down the front, left it hanging in tatters from his shoulders.
"I liked that shirt", he snarled. He rose over me, a dark demon, glistening in the torchlight, dripping sweat and blood, his torso covered with tattoos that disappeared beneath his waistband.
He grabbed the hem of my shirt, tore it straight up to my neck, and inhaled sharply. — Karen Marie Moning

There were so many ways he could have answered her snarky question. But sometimes, direct worked best. Leaning forward, he hooked a finger in the waistband of her pants and tugged. She stepped forward without hesitation and met his mouth hungrily.
Well, hello.
[ ... ]
She wound her hands into his hair, arching against him so that her thighs pressed against his. With the added height from her heels, everything lined up perfectly. Center to center, mouth to mouth, heart to heart. — Cari Quinn

There was a time not so long ago when you couldn't get into Malawi unless you could slide a Coke bottle between your leg and your jeans. You had to stick the bottle in at the waistband and under the watchful gaze of the Malawi police, move it between the denim and your pelvis and down your inside leg until it popped out through the leghole near your foot. The government claimed that it was to protect the country from the moral decline caused by tight jeans. — Peter Moore

Eventually she came. She appeared suddenly, exactly like she'd done that day- she stepped into the sunshine, she jumped, she laughed and threw her head back, so her long ponytail nearly grazed the waistband of her jeans.
After that, I couldn't think about anything else. The mole on the inside of her right elbow, like a dark blot of ink. The way she ripped her nails to shreds when she was nervous. Her eyes, deep as a promise. Her stomach, pale and soft and gorgeous, and the tiny dark cavity of her belly button.
I nearly went crazy. — Lauren Oliver

His fingers gouged into my leg harder. "My sister was in that cafeteria," he said. "She saw her friends die, thanks to you and that puke boyfriend of yours. She still has nightmares about it. He got what he deserved, but you got a free pass. That ain't right. You should've died that day, Sister Death. Everyone wishes you would have. Look around. Where is Jessica, if she wants you here so bad? Even the friends you came here with don't want to be with you."
"Let go of me," I said again, pulling on his fingers. But he only pinched tighter.
"Your boyfriend isn't the only one who can get his hands on a gun," he said. Slowly he eased himself up to standing again. He reached into the waistband of his jeans and pulled out something small and dark. He pointed it at me, and when the moonlight hit it, I gasped and pressed myself against the barn wall. — Jennifer Brown

The door opened. A guy came in. Busy, bustling, sixty-something, medium size, a gray suit, a tight waistband, a warm and friendly face. Pink and round. Lots of energy, and the start of a smile. A guy who got things done, with a lot of charm. Like a salesman. Something complicated. Like a financial instrument, or a Rolls-Royce automobile. "I'm sorry," the guy said. To Sinclair only. "I didn't know you had company." American. An old-time Yankee accent. No one spoke. Then Sinclair said, "Excuse me. Sergeant Frances Neagley and Major Jack Reacher, U.S. Army, meet Mr. Rob Bishop, CIA head of station at the Hamburg consulate." "I just did a drive-by," Bishop said. "On the parallel street. The kid's bedroom. The lamp has moved in the window. — Lee Child

Please," he says. That one word is enough to get me off my bed. I'm standing in the center of our room now, hands on the waistband of my boxers. I yank and let them drop to the floor. And now he's staring at my cock, stroking his. "What do you want?" I ask. And I need him to be specific. This is a very dangerous game we're playing. It will probably end in disaster. But if there's any way I can prevent that, I will. — Sarina Bowen