Crashed K Bromberg Quotes

Remember, life isn’t about how you survive the storm, but rather how you dance in the rain.” She

Remember, hurting is feeling and feeling is living, and isn’t it good to be alive?

I want to be your motherfucking checkered flag, Rylee. Your pace car to lead you through tough times, your pit stop when you need a break, your start line, your finish line, your goddamn victory lane.

I can’t be your spark if I can’t feel yours, so don’t you dare burn out on me.

Baby, Heaven doesn't want me yet, and Fuck if Hell can handle me, so you're kinda stuck with me.

I say, never look down on a man unless he’s between your legs.

I love who you are and what you make me. I love that your spark has stopped the blur. That you wanted to race with me. That I don't need the superheroes anymore because I need you instead. Shit, we've already done the for better or worse part and the in sickness and in health, so let's do the Til death do us part too. Make a life with me, Ryles. Start with me. End With Me. Complete Me. Be my one and only first. Be my goddamn victory lane and my fucking checkered flag because god knows I'll be yours if you'll let me. Marry Me, Ry?

Remember, life isn’t about how you survive the storm, but rather how you dance in the rain.

Relationships aren’t easy. They’re hard and can be brutal at times … but those are the times you learn the most about yourself. And when they’re right,” I pause, making sure his eyes are steadfast on mine, “they can be like coming home … finding the rest of your soul …

the only reason to kick a man like him out of bed would be to fuck him on the floor.

I’m the only one that’s allowed to drive you to the motherfucking checkered flag.

Every sinner needs a saint to balance them out,

Never disturb a man when he’s eating at the Y.

I accept you, I tell him. All of you. The broken parts. The bent parts. The ones filled with shame. The cracks where hope seeps through. The little boy cowering in fear and the grown man still suffocating in his shadow. The demons that haunt. Your will to survive. And your spirit that fights. Every single part of you is what I love. What I accept. What I want to help heal.

That lifeline thing goes both ways, you know? Use it. Use him. He won’t break if you do … but you just might if you don’t.

Sometimes hope is the most powerful medicine of all.

Baby, Heaven doesn’t want me yet, and fuck if Hell can handle me, so you’re kinda stuck with me.

Why drink to cover it up because hurting is feeling and feeling is living, and isn’t it good to be alive?’” Colton

I promise nothing will be more valuable in my life than you. That you will never be inconsequential.

I want you to watch me while I take you, Rylee. I want you to watch each of us as we crash over that edge. I want you to see why this is enough for me. Why I choose you.

This is love. Me and him, making it work.

But the way he looks at me—as if I am his next draw of breath—halts any further protests from my lips.

Shit, we’ve already done the for better or worse part and the in sickness and health, so let’s do the ’til death do us part too. Make a life with me, Ryles. Start with me. End with me. Complete me. Be my one and only first. Be my goddamn victory lane and my fucking checkered flag because God knows I’ll be yours if you’ll let me. Marry me, Ry?

Sometimes you need to crash a couple of times to learn your mistakes, and then when the smoke clears, sometimes you’re better off in the end. Lesson learned in case there is a next time.

I told you that you make me a better man... and I'm trying so fucking hard to be that for you, but I'm failing miserably.

I mean who knew the man had sperm with super powers that could just swoop on in, rescue and repair a broken womb like a damn superhero?

Get used to being spoiled. Not too much longer now. You know how much I love you because I’m handing over my balls momentarily to type the next song title, but fuck if it’s not true –Halo, Beyonce. Whew. Balls back in place now. And hey, there’s a lot of dressed up women down here, how will I know which one is you?

I want to take my time with you, Rylee. I want to build you up nice and slow and sweet like you need. Push you to crash over that edge. And then I want to fuck you the way I need to. Fast and hard until you’re screaming my name. The way I’ve wanted to since you fell out of that storage closet and into my life.

Call me a pussy, but I swear to God she’s the only air my body can breathe. Fuck if she’s not everything I need and nothing that I deserve.

I'm the reason she's going to have to make a choice, one I"m not even sure I want her to make any more.

I want to be your sigh, your moan, your cry out in pleasure and every fucking sound in between.

I want every inch of you trembling, fucking shaking, begging for me to take you, Ry, because fuck if I won’t be doing the same. I want to be your sigh, your moan, your cry out in pleasure and every fucking sound in between.

I want to feel that violent passion of his wash over me as he takes me with reckless abandon. I want him to dominate me so that I surge up and crash down without a thought.

I’m fucking desperate to bury myself—feel, lose, find myself—in you, Ry …” he says, the strain in his neck visible and his desperation audible. “You deserve soft and slow, baby, but all I’m going to be able to give you is hard and fast because it’s been so fucking long since I’ve had you.

Movements- driven by such unexpected need, fueled by such a relentless desire, and crashing into unimaginable possibilities.

Today's going to go incredibly fast. Everything is going to hit you at a hundred miles an hour. Make sure you stop and take it all in so you can really remember the first day of the rest of your lives together.

I know I’m good, baby, but God might get a little jealous if you start comparing us.

Remember, life isn’t about how you survive the storm,

Spiderman. Batman. Superman. Ironman.

Sometimes you need to crash a couple of times to learn your mistakes, and then when the smoke clears, sometimes you’re better off in the end.

isn’t about how you survive the storm, but rather how you dance in the rain.” She leans in

We've loved. We've lost. And now we’re just finding our footing again. Us again. And it’s never felt so good to lose myself in someone so I can find myself again.

Because we need to crack. We need to break. Only then can we pick up each other’s pieces and make each other whole again.

Life isn't about how you survive the storm, but rather how you dance in the rain.

You wanna fight? How ’bout you save it? How about you fight for what fucking matters? Because she,” he says, pointing up to the bedroom window and lowering his voice to a quiet fucking steel, “she’s worth the fight, dude. Worth every goddamn fear eating at you. Every piece of it, Colton—A to motherfucking Z.

Things fucking change, dude! Life changes. Priorities change. Pre-fucking-conceived notions change. You have to adjust and change with them or your ass gets left behind.

Compromising choices, preferences, and wants to be in a relationship are one thing, compromising who you are - the things ingrained in you, your beliefs, and your morals - are non-negotiable.

raised in challenge. “I believe my words the other day were a long, fucking time,” he says, pressing his erection at my apex. “There’s the long, sweetheart, now we just need to fulfill the fucking time part of it.

Hey… this bed is awfully lonely without you in it." His sleepy morning rasp pulls at me and his words seduce me when I have no business being seduced. "Believe me, I’d much rather be there with you—” "Then get here as quick as you can, baby, because time’s wasting. I have a long list of things to do today," he says, humor edging the suggestive tone of his voice. And I love this about him—about us—that just his voice can help ease the stress of my morning. "What is it you have to do today?" "You on the couch, you on the counter, you against the wall, you just about any place imaginable…

Her eyes finally find and lock onto mine. All I see is my future, my salvation, my singular chance at redemption.

Fucking,” Colton drawls in Beckett fashion, “now there’s a word.” Becks just snorts a laugh and rolls his eyes. “Definitely a good word indeed.

Images flicker through my mind of sitting here months ago with this achingly handsome man, wondering what in the hell he saw in me. And I get it now. He saw the pieces of me that could make a whole. Accepted the jagged edges that needed to be healed, because he too had the same thing. And here we sit again, in parts and pieces, needing to be put back together. But this time we have each other to lean on, to look to for help.

I want to take my time with you, Rylee. I want to build you up nice and slow and sweet like you need. Push you to crash over that edge. And then I want to fuck you the way I need to. Fast and hard until you’re screaming my name. The way I’ve wanted to since you fell out of that storage closet and into my life. Once we leave this elevator, I don’t think I’ll have enough control to stop … to pull away from you, Rylee. I. Can’t. Resist. You.

Don’t think about him. You promised, Ry. No boys. No sadness. No penis perturbance allowed.

My body reacts instinctively to Colton’s movements—driven by such unexpected need, fueled by such a relentless desire, and crashing into unimaginable possibilities.

I have forgotten everything—he has made me forget everything—except for his scent, his sounds, his taste, his touch.

life isn’t about how you survive the storm, but rather how you dance in the rain.

and

Porque el bagaje de una persona es algo muy poderoso. Puede contenerte. Impedirte que sigas adelante. Matarte. Y, a veces, los sentimientos no bastan para deshacerte de él. Para que avances con tu vida.