Biker Love Quotes

I am Preachers little girl. And I'm gonna be just like him when I grow up. I'm gonna have a Fatboy but I want mine to be sparkly and I want a pink helmet with skulls on it. And instead of being the club President, I'm gonna be the club Queen cuz I'm gonna marry the biggest, scariest biker in the whole world and he's gonna let me do whatever I want because he's gonna love me like crazy.

I noticed him right away. No, it wasn’t his lean, rugged face. Or the dark waves of shiny hair that hung just a little too long on his forehead. It wasn’t the slim, collarless biker jacket he wore, hugging his lean shoulders. It was the way he stood. The confident way he waited in the cafeteria line to get a slice of pizza. He didn’t saunter. He didn’t amble. He stood at the center, and let the other people buzz around him. His stance was straight and sure.

It's the ride of life the journey from here to there living and loving every moment like we have none to spare.

Love is like air, babe. It's there all the time, and you don't even think about it,or you take it for granted. Then all of a sudden, you need it, or you can't breathe. You inhale, and for the first time you're aware it's keeping you alive. You feel it brush your skin all the time. Sometimes it's warm and other times it's cool, but it's there surrounding you, feeding you, holding you. When you finally realize it's love, you become vulnerable. With that new fear of not having air, you subconsciously allow someone special to breathe life for you.

You don't know what you're talking about. When you fall in love, even a kiss is mind-blowing. You don't fuck other people, because there's only one person you want to be close to. When he fucks me, it's like I give him a part of my soul," his words became quieter. "I'm not looking for other guys, and I don't wanna do it with anyone else.

She’s beautiful to look at, she’s new, she’s clean, and perfectly cut. But then you get up and look closely and see that she’s not real. She’s a fake. She doesn't glimmer like a natural diamond or hold the beauty and unbreakable strength of a real diamond. She’s just a manufactured piece of glass. Not the real deal. And sooner or later, that pig headed owner is gonna realize that fake diamonds can never pass for the real ones, no matter how much you wish they would.

We must always look at things from the point of view of eternity, the college theologians used to insist, from which, I imagine, we would all appear to have speed lines trailing behind us as we rush along the road of the world, as we rush down the long tunnel of time- the biker, of course, drunk on the wind, but also the man reading by a fire...

When you love someone, their struggles become yours, and their hurt is your hurt.

Fuck Baby, what were you thinking?” he asked me before sliding his mouth down over my nose to my lips. While surrounded by angry bikers, he kissed me for the first time in three years. God, I Loved him.

I am Preacher’s little girl. And I’m gonna be just like him when I grow up. I’m gonna have a Fatboy, but I want mine to be sparkly, and I want a pink helmet with skulls on it. And instead of being the club President, I’m gonna be the club Queen ‘cause I’m gonna marry the biggest, scariest biker in the whole world, and he’s gonna let me do whatever I want because he’s gonna love me like crazy.

They were not smooth men, the bikers in her life, not fine, or well-loved by Mother Nature. The life – the wind, the sun, the drink, the sin, the violence – it took their soft layers away like sandpaper, over time, until there was a certain stark pride in their wrinkles and dark patches.

We need a country literally full of cat guys and cat girls, bikers, politicians, clergy, and everyone in between, in order to keep millions from dying without homes.

The sky and the earth, The night and the light, The heat and the cold, The rain and the drought; Those are my demigods. But the road, The road is my mistress. Devious and open, Harsh and nurturing, She seduces me with love And dares me with death In equal measure. Just like any good woman.

Sugar, what the fuck did I say about games? I don’t fuckin’ play them. You ain’t gonna make a scene about somethin’ you don’t know. Get out to my bike, shut your mouth and we’ll talk.” “I hate you when you’re bossy,” I say, before spinning on my heel. “You fuckin’ love me, you moody little shit.

Lei non voleva il mondo, voleva lui. Non ha avuto abbastanza fiducia in se stesso per credere che una donna del genere potesse volere un uomo come lui e, alla fine, le ha portato via l’unica cosa che lei voleva davvero»

Tory knew how to handle men. I’d once seen her kick a six and a half foot biker to the curb because she was (and I quote) ‘done with screwing a guy who had smaller balls than her’. That was Tor. And I damn well loved her for it.

You are the king of all the fears that ruled my life, a man of ferocity and passion and balls to the wall determination and endless, boyish enthusiasm. You crack the soul of life open in your palms and drink your fill. A man like that needs a queen by his side,” I murmured, repeating my excuse for our breakup back to him in a way that had his eyes clicking to life like flashlights. “And I’m that queen. I will match your ferocity. I will exceed your passion and challenge your balls to the wall determination. I will see your boyish enthusiasm and raise you my newborn love for life. I will stand beside my biker King and be his rough-and-tumble Queen, even if it takes me the next ten years to convince you to take me back.

For anyone who has ever felt like they don’t belong, you’ll find your tribe some day. And if you’re really lucky that tribe might include hot tattooed bikers who know how to make your legs shake. Until that time, enjoy these ones with my love,

—Quiero besarte, quiero follarte, y deseo que me toques con tal intensidad que duela físicamente. No voy a conseguir los dos primeros, así que solo sube a la parte trasera de mi moto. Rodéame con tus brazos y demos un paseo. Es todo lo que puedes darme, así que dámelo.

I was often more at risk from my supposed brothers in blue than from my adopted brothers in the gang. Just as there were some decent qualities—loyalty, love, respect—among the outlaw bikers, there were some law-enforcement officers who were little more than outlaws with badges.

He’s liable to wanna whip that ass of yours. Hell, you’re fuckin’ his twenty year old daughter. Trashy assed biker fucking his rich daughter. Yep, I see a fight comin’ out of this,” he jokingly clenched his fists and punched them in the air. “Twenty-two, she’s twenty-two,” I corrected him. “Oh hell, my bad, Doc. He’ll be fine with it then. That’ll make all the difference in the world,” he said as he nodded his head.

Let me wake up next to you, A cup of coffee together will do. Let’s go out somewhere far, Don’t let anyone know till we’re back. Grab your bike keys & my hand, Let’s wander holding hand in hand. To our secret spot up the hill we go, And we see the sunset & more. Under a magical sky filled with stars, Kiss me good night on my eyes. And we find out you don't have to be happy at all... Cause darling, I'm beside you holding your hand

You found it,” she announced. I smiled, knowing what she meant. She and I’d had conversations since I was a small child about finding true love. She’d fallen deep with my grampa, who I hadn’t met, he’d died before I was born in a work accident, but she’d never sought out anyone else. She couldn’t imagine her life without him. She’d told me that some people could find love over and over but others found it once and it was so perfect, so ‘it’ that they’d never look elsewhere, even if they lost it. They’d had such good from it that they were topped up for life.

I began reading about urban planning, a subject that had long interested me. To fall in love with your city again, try seeing it through the eyes of an urbanist. You become a benevolent narrator, observing how your characters negotiate daily routines as they hurry about their lives. You come to understand how a new building affects a nearby park, how a few chairs placed under a tree can transform a street. Even things that are irritating - the biker flying down the sidewalk, the plaza with no place to sit - become a puzzle to solve. What design might be better? What would bring everyone together? What pulls them apart? The spirit of investigation began to return, and I was back on the sidewalk, looking for clues.

Your past mistakes are meant to guide you, not define you.

Wasn’t that the way of the outlaw after all? Why the fuck should Stitch be constrained by rules? Wasn’t lack of them what he loved about the biker lifestyle in the first place? Some arrangements made sense: don’t rat, have your brothers’ back, don’t mess with another guy’s bike, but cocksucking, ass-fucking? Why the fuck would anyone in the MC care whom he fucked? Because someone believed it’s disgusting? Hell, he thought Freddy puking all over the pool table was disgusting, and no one kicked him out. “Fuck the rules.” Stitch bit his lip, looking down and already awaiting those skilled lips

The wind blew off the sea as three Harleys made their way through the last series of snaking turns and hit the straight stretch on Hwy 1 running parallel to the ocean" "they taught us two things Reaper, how to have sex every way possible way and how to kill every way possible. They left out relationships. They left out Love." " he kissed her with everything he was. Man,beast,killer,biker. Hers, every single cell in his body belonged to her. She'd branded him, along with the colors he wore on his back.He wanted her brand right over his heart." "You don't see me covered in dirt. In filth. You see something else. Something eve my brothers and sisters don't see. The sun shines in your eyes when you look at me" "I dreamt you kissed me like you do." "Like I do?" How do I kiss you?" " Like fire. Like lightening. A storm of fire and lightening

I loved you, you know? I gave you everything I had. Young or not I knew who you were. I knew what this club is about and what it is into. And I also knew what our life together would have been. I was ready for that. I made the decision that you were it for me. Today, I wasn’t ready for this… I wasn’t ready to walk in here watching you with her. That showed me that I am not it for you and that’s ok.” - Gabriella

Well, this is the second time you’ve had your hand around my throat, pinning me in place, and add in the fact that you told me that this isn’t over and I shouldn’t have come back, yada yada, I’m assuming you still want revenge for what happened,” I deduce. “Damn fucking straight I do,” “Well, come on then, biker boy, do your fucking worst,” “Don’t presume to know what I want, pretty girl ,” he says, ‘When you love someone, you’ll do anything for them.

Here’s to finding someone who loves you not despite your flaws, but because of them. There is someone out there who will give you the whole world, not just half of it. And maybe, it will be an unhinged biker who tells you to look at your reflection in his visor to see how pretty you are when you come undone for him. It’s time to get on your knees and welcome Alexei… He’s ready to take you on a wild ride.

I love you because love to me is about finding the person you want to be with." He drew me in, kissed me. "And being there no matter what.

Since the moment I laid eyes on him eleven years ago, my feelings for him have been my most closely guarded secret. Fear made me tuck them away in my heart, longing for him from a distance. But if I’d let him know how much I cared about him, how I’d thought he was the most amazing person I’d ever met, would it have made a difference? Even if I got my heart stomped on, maybe I could have made the verbal wounds his father inflicted cut a little less deep. Instead I’d made them worse. That was the thought that stole the breath from my lungs. I’d wanted nothing more than to make things better for Hunter, but all along he thought I felt like he was trash. Someone not worth my notice. So what choice did I have now? I could hold onto my pride and my heart for dear life and let him go on thinking I hated him. Or I could be honest, admit my feelings, and risk…everything.

So squeeze together a love of motorcycles, a little edginess and risk taking, a craving for the freedom of the open road, a touch of the loner, a rough sense of humor, some physical and mental toughness along with some multi-faceted motorcycle pride and you have a biker. The more time that biker spends with his machine on the road, the deeper that biker chord runs.

For the next few minutes, I made great shots until a creepy biker guy stood too close and I missed. Cooper took the stick and studied the remaining balls. “Don’t cry when I beat your ass.” “Hell yeah,” the biker said, laughing. “Some girls just love it rough.” Giving me a quick glance, Cooper glared at the guy. “Who the fuck are you?” “I know your pop.” “Good for you, but if you don’t back off and stop skeeving out my girl, my pop and I will be attending your funeral.

COLBIE: I'm an optimist. I believe in love and romance and happily ever after.

I want a man to love me for no other reason than he believes I’m the most unique creature on the planet,” she said, folding her arms against her chest as she spoke. “When he thinks of living life without me, I want him to get scared and confused.” “That’s

Neil. The club is who you are. It’s—” “No! Who I am is a biker. A rider. Riding’s my fucking freedom, babe. Ain’t never gonna stop. But club member? Nah, not no more. Right now, Thorns is clipping my wings. Whole reason I joined, whole reason all the boys joined, was to live on our own terms outside of society’s rules and the fucking shackles they slap on your wrists, you know? But the club ain’t that way no more. Trig’s screwed it up. And I ain’t gonna let no one control me. Right now, I gotta play the game, yeah? But freedom’s coming, babe. And you’re a big part of that. I love you. I fucking want you and I’m gonna have you. Don’t give a fuck what no one says, who or what gets in my face, cuz I’ll pound it all into the ground. Pay the price to make damn sure I can always live free—WE can always live free. You feel me?

He's a big bad-ass motherfucking biker who rules his kingdom with an iron fist and yet can love on a girl so soft and sweet, she sees God in all his heavenly glory. 

The only upside to that ice-cold bath was that Ike has gotten wet and tossed his shirt, and Jess thought she might be willing to be sick more often if it meant getting to see him shirtless. Because, holy bad-ass tattooed biker on a stick, he was so freaking hot. Cut muscles, ink everywhere, two insanely delicious indents low on his waist. And scars Jess has no idea how Ike had gotten. All that goodness and Jess couldn't even see the big Ravens tat that she knew covered Ike's broad back. But she'd seen it before, back at Hard Ink when Jeremy occasionally did a new piece for Ike. She'd seen it enough to know that she'd love to have a good reason to dig her fingers into that tat...

For the next hour, Joanne clung to Spence's back, comfortable now with the enforced physical intimacy, loving the wind on her face, the swoops and dizzying corners , the way other bikers saluted as if she and Spence belonged, with them, to a select club.

The reality is though, no matter what good deeds 99% of the worlds bikers do, the public has already formed its opinion and if something like this can't change it nothing ever will. People love to hate a bad boy, and bikers are like everybody's personal last ditch hope.

You are truly terrifying.” “I fell in love with a heavily tattooed biker tattoo artist from the wrong side of the tracks and was disowned by family and friends. Then I raised an openly gay son in a community that’s sometimes intolerant. I learned sweet only gets you so far before you gotta cut someone off at the knees.” “Vicious.” “You fucking know it.” “How

Every one wants to be a badass until they meet one.

What?” “My safe word. Meatloaf.” “Meatloaf?” I repeated incredulously. “Yeah, because I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that.

Denys Overholser reported back to me on May 5, 1975, on his attempts to design the stealthiest shape for the competition. He was wearing a confident smile as he sat down on the couch in my office with a preliminary designer named Dick Scherrer, who had helped him sketch out the ultimate stealth shape that would result in the lowest radar observability from every angle. What emerged was a diamond beveled in four directions, creating in essence four triangles. Viewed from above the design closely resembled an Indian arrowhead. Denys was a hearty outdoorsman, a cross-country ski addict and avid mountain biker, a terrific fellow generally, but inexplicably fascinated by radomes and radar. That was his specialty, designing radomes—the jet’s nose cone made out of noninterfering composites, housing its radar tracking system. It was an obscure, arcane specialty, and Denys was the best there was. He loved solving radar problems the way that some people love crossword puzzles. “Boss,” he said, handing me the diamond-shaped sketch, “Meet the Hopeless Diamond.” “How good are your radar-cross-section numbers on this one?” I asked. “Pretty good.” Denys grinned impishly. “Ask me, ‘How good?’ ” I asked him and he told me. “This shape is one thousand times less visible than the least visible shape previously produced at the Skunk Works.” “Whoa!” I exclaimed. “Are you telling me that this shape is a thousand times less visible than the D-21 drone?” “You’ve got it!” Denys exclaimed. “If we made this shape into a full-size tactical fighter, what would be its equivalent radar signature… as big as what—a Piper Cub, a T-38 trainer… what?” Denys shook his head vigorously. “Ben, understand, we are talking about a major, major, big-time revolution here. We are talking infinitesimal.” “Well,” I persisted, “what does that mean? On a radar screen it would appear as a… what? As big as a condor, an eagle, an owl, a what?” “Ben,” he replied with a loud guffaw, “try as big as an eagle’s eyeball.

What the fuck?” “The fuck is, guy. You’re on a date with my bride-to-be, so climb into your Mazda parked outside and fuck off, yeah?” “What the goddamn hell, Monroe?” he shouted. “Bride? Since when?” “Since now. And this little game is her idea of teasing me, which she knows I love. It gets my juices running, doesn’t it, baby?” lied Chains, leaving Monroe slacked jaw as he played her game better, he smirked her way and told Craig, “so beat your feet so I can sit my ass down with my woman and sort her out. Or sit there and fucking watch. We’d like that, too.” Big fat liar. She nearly gasped like a maiden at the idea. What was the biker playing at? Playing her better, that was a damn fact. Proof when he smirked her way and winked.

She says some people can find love over and over again. Some people never find it. But some people find it. It. The one love that’s all they think they’ll ever need.

Really man? Now you’re the one calling the shots?” Willow had taken off his helmet and finally turned off the bike. “Bringing Robert here to be the getaway driver? If you’re looking for escalation this isn’t it, you prick. I call the shots and the rest fall in line. I love you brother, but this isn’t the move.” A door had opened loudly at the distant motel, an odd-looking fellow had stepped out of the kiosk and was walking briskly towards them, muttering to himself out of earshot. Willow had taken this for even more leverage against his outcrying subordinate, “It’s people like this,” pointing at the approaching motel employee, “That gets us locked up. If we get the cops called on us again, he is the first witness to see us with the car or even the kids if he starts yelling and gets them to come out.

I loved you as you became Cyan’s mom—a woman who made sure the house was clean, who watched over our daughter, who protected her, cherished her. But I fell for the woman who smiled at a dirty biker like he wasn’t scum.

When I was growing up in the late 1950s and early ’60s, there was very little in the way of literate adventure writing. Periodicals that catered to our adolescent dreams of travel and adventure clearly held us in contempt. Feature articles in magazines that might be called Man’s Testicle carried illustrations of tough, unshaven guys dragging terrified women in artfully torn blouses through jungles, caves, or submarine corridors; through hordes of menacing bikers, lions, and hippopotami. The stories bore the same relation to the truth that professional wrestling bears to sport, which is to say, they were larger-than-life contrivances of an artfully absurd nature aimed, it seemed, at lonely bachelor lip-readers, drinkers of cheap beer, violence-prone psychotics, and semiliterate Walter Mitty types whose vision of true love involved the rescue of some distressed damsel about to be ravaged by bikers, lions, or hippopotami.

He loved talking to the mountains. He loved talking to the breeze. He loved to drift. And he loved to ride his motorcycle.

As for why it’s you, I don’t know, I don’t care. It just is. It could be ’cause you’re gorgeous. It could be ’cause you’re funny. It could be ’cause I like the way you handled Pete when he lost his daughter. It could be ’cause you and me got Chaos in common, it’s us, it’s in our blood and this was meant to be. It could be ’cause I like the way you are with your family. It could be ’cause you get off on bein’ on the back of my bike almost as much as I get off straddling it. I figure it’s all that and more. I am not gonna analyze it. I’m gonna feel it ’cause I like it and that’s all there is to it.

It wasn’t about balance or partnership or sharing. It was about unity. They didn’t keep score, they just gave, and I figure that was why they didn’t fight. Because if you give, the other person is gonna give because they get that back. So the balance comes natural.

Hear? I didn’t believe it. Not until then. Not until that. Something that was so Logan. He was the only person I knew who said that like he said it. Hear? He’d said that the first time I met him. He’d said it a million times after. And he’d just given it to me again. Not like he did when we were playing our crazy game. Like he used to give it to me. Wars were fought for things that had no meaning. Hearts were broken. Betrayals were committed. Fortunes were paid. Sacrifices were made. All for nothing. All for shit. But I’d give anything, battle to the death, break hearts, tell lies, pay every penny I owned, sell my soul to have back Logan’s hear? just like that. Something that meant the world because it meant I had him. And I had it back. Him back.

On that, I pushed, shoved, desperate to get to a place where I could completely fade away and do it alone. Having been given too much too soon and paying the price by having it ripped away so that was all I’d ever have. Nothing. All I’d ever be. Alone. With all that, I made my final dash through the flames, making my way through the bar, out, and I ran to my car on my high heels. Destined to fade away. Ready to fade away. Needing nothing but to leave it all far behind.

I’m done walking through fire for you, High!” I yelled. “I’m done not because I’m done but because there’s nothing left of me to burn. You have it all! You’ve always had it all! I gave up everything so you could have it all! Please! God! Leave me to my nothing!” I swung an arm out to their table. “And if you gave one single shit about me, ever, make them let me have my nothing!

It’s just the way, and it’s a good way, and you know what I mean, Dad. I want a handful,” Rush went on. “I wanna wake up and not know what the day is gonna bring, mostly because she’s gonna make it an adventure. I want kids, and I want the woman I choose to make them with to be about them. To have all the love in the world for them. To make it so they know that and never doubt it. And you know why I want that.

A woman who can love that deep, who’s got that kinda steel in her spine, the man who gets it, it’ll feel good to earn that love, keep it and have it. But he’ll have to understand what makes her and that he’ll have a lifetime of puttin’ out fires, dealin’ with emotional fallout, and proppin’ her up when the loads she takes on get too heavy.

You had to know what you wanted to get it. You had to know it was right before you went for it. You had to pull out all the stops to make it yours. And you had to treat it right when you got it.

I want a handful,” Rush went on. “I wanna wake up and not know what the day is gonna bring, mostly because she’s gonna make it an adventure. I want kids, and I want the woman I choose to make them with to be about them. To have all the love in the world for them. To make it so they know that and never doubt it.

Loving people shouldn’t come with a whole bunch of rules.

He imagined a reality show host selling Los Angeles to a live audience: “Are you a surfer dude hitting the waves? You’ll fit right in. How about a hipster starting a gluten-free cookie brand or a new church? Of course. And is there a place for a young family raising small children? You bet. How about a retired couple wanting to play bingo all day? Indeed. High-powered executives? Yes! Lawyers, doctors, agents, and managers? Best place to thrive. Gym buffs, starlets, chefs, yoga teachers, students, writers, healers, misfits, trainers, nurses? Right this way, please. Are you into cosplay, improv, porn, Roller Derby, voyeurism, cemetery movie screenings, food truck drag racing, AA, relapse, rehab, open mic, plastic surgery, wine tastings, biker meetups, karaoke, clubbing, S and M, or escape rooms? Come on over!” Every race, religion, nationality, gender, sexual orientation, and food preference was well represented within Los Angeles County, and this is what Oscar loved most about his city;

We grieve to the extent that we loved. We should all be so lucky to experience a love that causes such pain. Deep grief means great love.

Stop trying to fix his broken pieces. Instead, make a home among them and love his darkness too.

I’m going to say one thing and one thing only,” she starts. “I love you, William Pellman. I loved you as a dumb kid with a crush, I loved you as an angsty teenager with a fantasy, and I love you as a woman with a dream of being your forever.

Biker George says you're not alone anywhere when you know The One who's with you everywhere.

Biker George says that God's presence is the present we all need the most!

Biker George says that life can be hard & it's even harder if you don't have Christ.

Bikers don’t do romance.” His lips twitch but he’s not nearly as calm as he’s pretending to be. “And psychopaths don’t do love, yet here we are trying to Stockholm me into loving one anyway.

Three-thousand-year-old gossip.” “What about Aphrodite’s husband?” “Well, you know,” she said. “Hephaestus. The blacksmith. He was crippled when he was a baby, thrown off Mount Olympus by Zeus. So he isn’t exactly handsome. Clever with his hands, and all, but Aphrodite isn’t into brains and talent, you know?” “She likes bikers.” “Whatever.” “Hephaestus knows?” “Oh sure,” Annabeth said. “He caught them together once. I mean, literally caught them, in a golden net, and invited all the gods to come and laugh at them. Hephaestus is always trying to embarrass them. That’s why they meet in out-of-the-way places, like…” She stopped, looking straight ahead. “Like that.” In front of us was an empty pool that would’ve been awesome for skateboarding. It was at least fifty yards across and shaped like a bowl. Around the rim, a dozen bronze statues of Cupid stood guard with wings spread and bows ready to fire. On the opposite side from us, a tunnel opened up, probably where the water flowed into when the pool was full. The sign above it read, THRILL RIDE O’ LOVE: THIS IS NOT YOUR PARENTS’ TUNNEL OF LOVE! Grover crept toward the edge. “Guys, look.” Marooned at the bottom of the pool was a pink-and-white two-seater boat with a canopy

We get crazy when we can't make things be like the world tells us they are". She looked back out the window. "It was that way for me and your brother, I think. I mean, how could I have loved him that last year? I didn't even know who he was. He was way more attracted to drugs and bikers and that whole lifestyle than he was to me. But somebody told me that if you really loved somebody,you stayed with him no matter what. You had to fight for him." She laughe. "Hell, I was convinced.

She’s happy for me because she knows I love you. If that love’s changed, well, she knows me. She knows it’s still love.” “But what does ‘I know’ mean?” Joe sighed. “Are you really going to make me state the obvious?” His brown eyes were mild, and accepting, and sad. Casey felt his mouth wobble, which went with the chin quiver, which went with the fact that all of his muscles seemed to be wrapped around his throat. “Say it,” he whispered. “I want to hear you say it so it’s not between us ever again.” Of course it wasn’t that easy. But for the moment, he’d pretend. “Fine,” Joe said, resting his face on his knees. His hair fell behind him, and not for the first time since Casey had seen this big, burly biker on a foothill back road, Casey saw past the mustache and the soul patch, saw beyond the hair, and saw a relatively young man, probably as vulnerable in his gentleness as Casey had been in his youth. “It means that you don’t have a functioning uterus, so we’re probably not going to have children.” Yeah. This was not going away, whether they talked it to death right now or not. Casey suddenly felt that loss almost as keenly as Joe. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his eyes burning with real, sudden, unanticipated pain. “That you fell in love with me? That you made it stick until I loved you back the same way? Don’t be.

When you find the one you want to be with, there will never be an ‘enough is enough.’ There will never be a step too far when it comes to protecting them.

I love her so goddamn much, Lucias, I just want what’s best for her.” “Then be what’s best for her.

I love you and know the way most people know the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, that bikers know the sound of Harley pipes, and cops know the difference between fucking right and fucking wrong that you and I are made for each other.

I just gave her a property jacket like the crazy f*cker that I am, anxious she wouldn’t take it or wouldn’t understand the meaning of it. But f*ck, she surprised me once again when her fingers followed the shapes of the sewn letters, watching it like I had gave her the f*ckin’ moon. She held my gaze long enough so that I knew she accepted it. That she wouldn’t just wear it like any garment. She gave me a I’m your woman now look, and f*ck, it almost gave me a heart attack.