Exposed Kristen Callihan Quotes

I’m in pain now, actual physical pain – in my balls, my abs, my chest. Everything aches with a throbbing persistence, wrought from self-denial. I want this woman more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. But I want to keep her. I have no idea how to keep anyone close to me. Because I have no idea how to expose my heart.

I know you,” he says softly, firmly. “I’ve spent years trying not to learn you, and failing.

Letting her go was never an option.

I want to be yours. I want you to be mine. Wherever I land, whatever I’m doing. Because I…I adore you.

This man is mine. My friend. My lover. My home. My heart.

I’m good, Bren. I’ll do whatever you want, for as long as you want. I’ll make certain you’re taken care of, and I won’t tell a soul.” Jesus, I can’t breathe. “So selfless,” I murmur. “And what to you get out of all of this?” “You … I get you.

It’s different when it matters. She matters. Of course, she matters. She’s been a part of me for so long, I wouldn’t know how to function if she were gone.

I have to act the way I always do with you. Because otherwise they’ll see.” He flings his arm in the direction of the dining room, color rising over his cheeks. “They’ll all know how much I want you. That I’m fucking aching to touch you.” My breath leaves in a whoosh, and his comes out in a pant. “They’ll see right through me,” he whispers hotly. “I couldn’t let them know that, Bren. Not if we want to keep us a secret.” “There is no us.” His eyes flash. “Bullshit.

I want to fuck you, Brenna. I want that so badly, I’ll do whatever it takes to have you.

I don’t want or need their commentary. This is ours.

Brenna James has me by the balls, and I don’t want her to let go.

I know how to fuck. I excel at fucking. This isn’t fucking. I’m not sure what to call it. But it’s definitely more.

It’s almost too much, this connection. Sex is supposed to be fun, a release. Instead I’m aching, so hot I can’t breathe properly.

It’s primal and inescapable. That I’m experiencing this with Rye does funny things to my head, makes the room around me blur. All I can feel is him. He’s all I can see.

I don’t want us to be a mistake, Bren.

My dear, I was talking about loving yourself. If you don’t do that first, you’re always going to push away those who try to love you.

Whatever the gender, whatever the sexual orientation, we all suffer the same pitfalls and have to weed through the same bullshit when it comes to finding happiness.

You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, almost lightly, like he’s not slicing into my heart. I’ve spent my entire adult life either wanting you or wanting to forget you.

Brenna, the way that man looks at you is not that of a friend.” “We barely look at each other.” “And in those non-looks, everything is exposed. He is either in love with you or falling fast.

I wanted to be wanted. Craved above all things. Needed with a breathless devotion. I want to be seen, not just as a quick fix – but as something essential. And I wanted to crave3 someone too.

Every man has a weakness. Every dog has its day. Those two truths collided in spectacular fashion the second I learned that Brenna James – my one true weakness – is in desperate need of great sex.

She’s finally let me in. And I’m going to take the chance, for however brief it might be. Even if I crash and burn and don’t survive the wreck. Because I can’t do anything less and still comfortably breathe.

Everything is different. In the words of “Amazing Grace”: “I once was lost, but now I am found. Was blind, but now I see.” Yes, I’ve taken to quoting hymns in my head. That’s what Brenna has done to me. It’s terrifying. But I’m strangely happy about being terrified. In short, I’m one messed-up dude.

Thank you for coming home,” I tell her, unable to hold back the words. Home. Does she realize how many times I’ve referred to wherever we rest our heads as my home? I hadn’t meant to betray myself that way, but I can’t seem to stop. I want her to know what she means to me, and yet the sensation of exposing my heart is so foreign, I find it hard to breathe as she stares at me. But her expression goes soft, her brown eyes shinning. Relief is liquid cool along my tight muscles as she reaches up to tuck my hair back from my brow. “You came home first.” I didn’t have a home until she came into my life. She gave me one without hesitation, as if she’s been waiting for me all this time, knowing I was meant to be hers. I touch her cheek just to remind myself she’s real.

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There’s a Supernatural marathon on. They’re starting from the pilot.

Okay, the Star Trek thing is annoying but Supernatural, Kills? How can you hate on Dean and Sam?

Hey, it’s Supernatural. Castiel is my boy.

And while we’re eating pizza and arguing whether Dean’s ’67 Impala is the best muscle car ever,

I’m not drunk,” she protests, taking the bait. “I’m simply…cocktail-induced happy.

For the first time in years, I feel... well, not safe... but excited. Life was starting to lose its color, its immediacy. Rye gives that back to me.

Change is terrifying when it isn't your choice. But here, with Brenna's funny little snores buffeting my chest, it hits me with calm certainty that music isn't the entirety of my heart and soul. It no longer owns me completely. She's there too, in my heart and soul. A touchstone in the darkness of uncertainty.

I always was." "Always was what?" "Yours." Tender hands cup my cheeks. "I've always been yours. And you... you already are my everything. You're my music, Bren.

He turned to root through the refrigerator, and the tight globes of his spectacular bubble butt strained against worn jeans. Silently, he set a bottle of cream down, then reached up to the hanging pot rack for a saucier, exposing a sliver of toned abs as he did. Sweet mercy, but I might truly orgasm watching this man work his kitchen. I didn't even know it was my kink. Maybe Lucian made it so. When he proceeded to separate an egg with an efficient snap of his wrist, I knew it was him. He was my kink. Damn it all.