I would want forever with you.

She disliked me. But she worshipped my brother. He didn't see her, not really. Not like I did.

When you cried, I learned what helplessness tastes like. Because all I could do was swallow.

Alex the waiter was on my Spank Naughty list in third place, right after Henry Calvill the actor, then Henry Calvill as Superman. He was proof that God existed, and that God loved straight women.

Does he give you zings in your things?

This is just your penis having the feels for my vagina. Your penis is making prank calls! and every single time your penis makes a prank call, my vagina answers the phone. And then you hang up. Or your penis claims wrong number or misdial or no hablo Ingles. It's infuriating, and it's called genital call me maybe.

Each marriage is a living thing, just as complex as the two individuals within it.

She was a damn good kisser, maybe the best I'd ever had the immense pleasure of kissing. It helped that her lips were like pillows and she tasted sweet. Not like strawberries or peaches. Sunshine and sweet—her own brand of it. Plus there was desperation in the kiss, an understated but raw passion I couldn't recall ever experiencing before.Or maybe that had been me. Maybe I'd been the passionate, desperate one. No matter. Either way, she'd stolen my breath, robbed me of thought and sense. She was a master thief, and I loved her for it.

I'm after a woman who likes sex but doesn't put the lust part above the intelligence part. She could have a hundred partners for all I care, just as long as they've been vetted for psychopathic tendencies. I have four rules. Number one: don't invite a person into your body if you wouldn't invite her into your kitchen. Number two: the act needs to take place in a clean environment. Number three: precautions need to be taken to protect from disease and pregnancy. And Number four: don't ration the passion, i.e. put you best fuck forward.

I didn’t like trusting, I didn’t like setting greater than mild expectations,

Sandra.”“Thomas, I….”“You called.” He sounded concerned.“Yes, I….”“Why are you calling? Are you harmed?”“No….”“Are you rescheduling our Saturday lunch?”“No….”“Is this an emergency?”“Stop asking questions and just listen.”“Why are you calling?”I sighed, rolled my eyes. This was why I never called Thomas. “I need your help.”“Do you need money?”“Thomas, I swear, if you ask me another question, I will secretly switch your caffeinated with decaf during Saturday lunch at least three times over the next six months.”I could tell he was thinking about my threat, weighing it against the compulsion of his curiosity. Belatedly he said, “Proceed

I didn't tell her, because I didn't think it would help, but all people are lost, to varying degrees. I suspected that it’s only when we love others—through purpose, friendship, romance, or any combination thereof—that we become found.

... It wasn't my finest moment, but I rolled my eyes and actually huffed. "Fine, don't answer. I don't even know why I asked.""No, I am not having sex with anyone.""Oh." I shrugged nonchalantly, but for some reason his response filled me with glee. It was as if a unicorn had appeared beneath a double rainbow and started tap dancing.

Fire burns blue and hot.Its fair light blinds me not.Smell of smoke is satisfying, tastes nourishing to my tongue.I think fire ageless, never old, and yet no longer young.Morning coals are cool: daylight leaves me blind.I love the fire most because of what it leaves behind.

Where I'm from," Tom tilted his head to the side, "they call your kind a hipster or a lumbersexual, with the beard and flannel and such."Without missing beat, Jethro responded, "Ah. See, where I'm from, they call my kind a man.

I didn’t like how my body seemed to be intent on sabotaging my brain, especially since my brain was so good at sabotaging itself.

Elizabeth called it my mane of hair; I called it my bane of hair. However, it was far worse looking when it was short, sticking straight up or out at awkward angles; at least when it was long it almost obeyed gravity.

And you are more than the mistakes of your youth. You are more than the label you’ve been assigned by people who might love you, but don’t really know who you are anymore.

My type has a romantic soul. He'll make my heart and my brain fight over who gets him first. He does what's right, even when it's not easy - actually, especially when it's not easy. He knows the value of discipline, education, honor, and restraint. And his strength of character is the only thing that out weighs the strength of his love for me.

I had reclusive tendencies for a reason, I couldn’t be trusted to live in the world and make decisions on my own.

And his eyes. Don't get me started on his eyes. Just . . . don't. I can't even with this guy. So. Gorgeous. They held an invitation as well, a twinkly, heated, mesmerizing invitation. And I wanted to RSVP so hard.

My upstairs brain and my downstairs brain engaged in a game of risk and it was downstairs’ turn to roll the dice.

I might have been a little mesmerized for a moment as I took in the sight of her shapely backside. It was incredible. I just wanted to spank it and bite it and worship it and completely fucking defile it.

The protector inside me was frowning while the predator soaked up her discomfort with glee.

I loved begging him, following his rules. I loved the freedom I found in complete capitulation.

Be beautiful for yourself, Janie. And only if you want to. If a man is worthy of you, he’ll see more beauty in who you are than in what you look like.

Dance with me."Blinking, first at his offered palm and then at his features, I asked, "Why?"Not immediately replying, he reached for me, pulled me to my feet, and slid an arm around my waist. I allowed him to hold my body against his, fit our hands together, and sway to the lovely music. Begrudgingly, I admitted to myself he had great rhythm. Someone had taught him to dance.Jehtro dipped his mouth to my ear, his beard tickling my neck as he finally whispered an answer to my question, "Because you want me to hold you, but you don't know how to ask.

Furthermore, I preferred to only have cravings I could satisfy without the requirement or assistance of another person. This was, after all, the definition of self-reliance.

I was determined to stay off the see-saw of crazy

I hated longing. I hated it almost as much as I hated pining. It sapped the mind of good judgment, filled the heart with achiness, and distracted the vagina from other potential conquests.

Why do you look like that, Duane?""Like what, Cletus?""Like your heart is diseased.

Since I spent much of my childhood being left behind and ignored, one might think that, as an adult, moments of perceived abandonment would feel old hat. The truth is, as an adult, I am always waiting to be left behind. I’m always ready to be discarded and, therefore, I spend a significant amount of time preparing for this eventuality.I lower my expectations, I don’t seek out meaningful relationships, and I don’t engage in any sort of real intimacy, physical or otherwise.Engage is the key word here. Except, when I engage, when it happens, when I’m left behind it doesn’t feel old hat. It feels like it did the first time and it takes me by surprise. So, I don’t let it happen.