“And, i love that you're possessive. It makes me feel all warm and gushy inside.”

“As long as you're interested, that's all that matters." "I'm interested. I'm fucking obsessed.""That's it, baby." Ben whispered. "You fuck yourself on me. Feel me all the way inside." "Oh, God," Reece gasped."You've no idea," Ben growled, "no idea what it does to me; how fucking possessive it makes me feel to see you bouncing on my cock.”

“It's like a cat bell, so pretty yet alarming, because i know I'm letting myself fall when maybe I should fly away. But the loneliness inside, it's so fucking painful. It's that longing feeling that scratches to escape and makes you want to blurt out all kinds of gushy crap just to get the girl to look at you...I hate it. Love its melty-ness and hate its leash around my neck.”

“What do I know about love? Not much-that’s the safe answer. Even when I think I have a grasp on it, something comes along to make me realize I don’t know anything at all. It’s just a concept to me. It’s the thing that all the songs are written about, the thing that makes smart people act stupidly. If I can make love a concept, it makes me a better observer. And it also leaves a place inside of me hollow. Sometimes I can actually feel it. To reach down inside that part-I wonder how it would feel, to touch a void. That nameless empty.This makes me seem lonely, which isn’t really true. I have other parts of me—friendship, for one—which compensate for the void. I can’t feel the nothingness except in those rare times when there’s nothing else to feel.”

“There's a phantom feeling as if you're still inside me”

“I want to be your wife, your lover, your mate for life. I want to feel you inside me, to be one with you, to bear your children, to possess you as you possess me, to touch you as often as I wish, and to feel you quicken in my grasp. I need you... most desperately.”