“Your skin is so smooth like my love towards you.”

“God, I love your skin.”“My skin?” She glanced uncomprehendingly at her own arm when he rose from nibbling at her. “It’s brown.”“It’s melted chocolate and coffee with cream, exotic as the fucking desert, and so damn erotic. I have wet dreams about you naked on my sheets, your skin smooth and hot from the sun’s rays.”She swallowed, chest heaving. “You make me sound edible.”He purred. “You are.”

“You know I love to spend my mornings, like sunlight dancing on your skin”

“If you look at old pictures, Irene Casey is so pretty. Not just young, but pretty the way you look when your face goes smooth, the skin around your eyes and lips relaxed, the pretty you only look when you love the person taking the picture.”

“They're in your fucking skin, in your soul, like the essence of who they are is imprinted on you so completely they are the very air you breathe, like each molecule of who you are is tangled together. That's love.”

“Nothing like the soft touch of a woman. Her smooth skin...or her rough scars.”