“Of course I do. I love you touching me, Ana. I'm like a starving man at a banquet when it comes to your touch.”

“This is me, Ana. All of me...and I'm all yours. What do I have to do to make you realize that? To make you see that I want you any way I can get you. That I love you.”

“Why don't you like to be touched" Ana whispered, staring up into soft grey eyes."Because I'm fifty shades of fucked-up, Anastasia”

“He touched you-Noah. He saw your scars, didn't flinch, and then he touched them.""I'm going to sound like a real dick, but i wouldn't have been able to do that. Touch them or pretend they weren't there. I thought i could, but...”

“If I love you more than you love me, I'm as good as dead. Yet I can't make myself take it back. I can't just walk away from you, because every time you pass by me without smiling, without touching my hand, or at least making eye contact, it feels like I'm dying inside. And I'm pretty sure that hurts worse than whatever Marc would do to me. Whatever your dad would do. Hell, Faythe, I'm pretty sure that never touching you again would hurt worse than the nastiest death Calvin could think up for me.”

“He mumbles in his sleep, "Don't touch me. No more. Only Ana.:”