“All this kissing was making her crazy; it was reminding her of what she could feel, and how it could be when you wanted someone as much as he wanted you.”

“God, she wanted this. Wanted him. He made her feel wanted, needed. He lit fires inside her she hadn’t known could burn so fierce, in places she didn’t even know existed. Nothing in life could ever make her feel this complete, this whole. He was as much a part of her as her own soul.”

“When he saw her, he wanted to be with her; when he was with her, he ached to touch her; when he touched even her hand, he wanted to embrace her. He wanted to feel her against him the way he had in the attic. He wanted to know the taste of her skin and the smell of her hair. He wanted to make her laugh. He wanted to sit and listen to her talk about books until his ears fell off. But all these were things he could not want, because they were things he could not have, and wanting what you could not have led to misery and madness.”

“He wanted to do things to this woman. He wanted to make her feel the way a good boyfriend would – desired, wanted, craved. She deserved all that. He could give it to her now. He could give it to her for a week.”

“Could she kiss him? Would he allow her that? Was that something he could pretend was nothing? What about making love? Could she just open up her legs and pull him inside her and have him all she wanted and later give her assent that it was nothing?”

“He wanted to make her laugh. He wanted to sit and listen to her talk about books until his ears fell off. But all these were things he could not want, because they were things he could not have, and wanting what you could not have led to misery and madness.”