Five Love Languages Kindle Novels & Stories

loving you and living with you is just, easy” I say and move my head to see his face. ”Aw, thanks babe. I love you. And I feel the same, I don’t know if it’s the bond or what, but I feel like we are on the same wavelength. I know you and you know me. And I love that we are both so hands on, I love touching you and being open about us. And I assume that you are the same?” Sebastian asks. ”Yes, I don’t mind openly loving you. And I feel like I can’t get enough of you. I guess our love language is pretty physical” I chuckle.

She told me about a dream she had—running through a field with our child, laughter echoing, wildflowers in her hair. I told her about mine—just sitting on a porch swing, her hand in mine, gray in our hair but peace in our hearts. We didn’t need to speak every fear. Some love languages are spoken in silence. --- “Do you think I’ll be a good mother?” she asked softly, her voice barely audible over the wind. I didn’t hesitate. “You already are.” Her tears fell silently. I wiped them away with the pad of my thumb. “This child is lucky. They’ll know what it means to be loved. To be chosen.”

Did I even mean anything to him? “Whenever I felt down or distressed or sad, Fredrick always showed up with something in his hand.” I tell Roman. “I thought his love language was giving gifts or something like that. A bottle of water on a hot day here, hot chocolate on a rainy evening there, soft kisses that steal my breath away. Mind you, that is also a symptom.” I shake my head. “Early morning coffee, afternoon flowers, late night sex.” Is it because my memories seem like they all occurred yesterday? I think I miss him.

I felt my cheeks warming up because of that. “I-I want to engage with you in that way, but I feel like I am not attractive enough because I am immature, ugly, and—” Lowell cupped my mouth before caressing my cheeks, “You have to stop talking because you are hurting me with your words.” “I love everything about you, what is there to hate?” He added, making my eyes widen as he pulled me inside of his room. “T-Then why? Why are we not kissing and hugging a lot when you know physical touch is my love language!” I sobbed.

He also knew that he shouldn’t push her too hard to accept gifts from him, since she was a proud person and her love language was acts of service and he was considering that touch would also be part of it, considering how guarded she’d been about touch in the beginning…and the fact that she’d run away from him after he’d touched her at the river. Staunchly, he pushed that memory away. He would not allow that memory to taint this trip. He would never impress her by showering her with expensive gifts. Of course, she would be grateful for it. But she would not see the need for all of it. She would not be won over by his money. And that was the reason he’d thought to finally confess this se

He whispered. (I think I'm falling in love with you.) I blinked, not understanding anything of what he had said, and yet, my heart soared. I understood now what it meant - love has no barriers, least of all, a language. I pulled his head to mine, kissing him fervently, urgently, as if my life depended on it. The way our lips moulded together was so perfect. It was as if we were designed for each other - the way my body fit perfectly in his when we slept, the perfect way our fingers entwined.

“Love language.” “That sounds fictional.” “It is unfortunately very real.” I leaned back slowly. “Explain.” Percy exhaled once like a man preparing a political presentation. “Different women feel loved differently. Some prefer gifts. Others value attention more. Some just want emotional presence.” “Emotional presence,” I repeated blankly. “Yes, sire.” “That is extremely vague.” “It gets worse.” Concerning. Percy continued carefully. “For example, if Lady Katherine values quality time and you only buy expensive jewelry, she may still feel emotionally neglected.”

"Okay. You think it's a malfunction. I think it's love. We can disagree." "Disagreement is inefficient." "It's marriage." Elion reached into his pocket. He pulled out the notebook. "I'm going to read to you," Elion said. "I'm going to read until you understand." "I understand the words," Cale said. "I just do not feel the resonance." "You will. Eventually." Elion opened the book. "Entry 58," Elion read. "The Silent Language. You couldn't speak. So you touched my hand. Three times."

“I told him to be present—” “You told him to be human, and his brain translated it to deliver fluids.” Knox is still laughing, and he crosses to me and slides his arms around my waist from behind, tucking me back against his chest, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck. “This is the man who engineered the most complex cover-up in pack history. And he can’t figure out that a glass of water is not a love language.” “You’re one to talk,” I say, leaning back into him. “Your love language was a home invasion.”

"And why are you so sure he'll just give you more money?" I couldn't help but laugh a little. "Because he's acting like a child, Mae. A rich, spoiled child who threw a tantrum tonight. He'll have to apologize. And when he does, he'll do it with money. It's the only language he speaks." I shrugged. "Besides, my love language is money. It's simple. No strings attached." She shook her head, a small, sad smile on her face. "How can you say that? How can you be with a man who takes care of you like that and not have fallen in love with him?"