“Marina brushed her hand across the back of her neck and dislodged something with a hard shell.She had learned in time to brush instead of slap as slapping only served to pump the entire contents of the insect, which was doubtlessly already burrowed into the skin with some entomological protuberance, straight into the bloodstream.”

“She still felt his gaze on her like the brush of a finger across the back of her neck, making her shiver.”

“I can feel the tingling in my hand as if I've already slapped her, so right does it feel.”

“There must have been something in her voice, because he turned to look at her. Her hand cracked across his face, a slap that rocked him back on his heels. He put his hand to his cheek, more in surprise than pain. "What the hell was that for?""The other ten percent,” she said.”

“He raised his hand to brush a stray hair from her face. Instead of dropping his hand, he slid it behind her neck and drew her closer. His earthy pine scent enveloped her. When his lips touched hers, she lost any hope of control.”

“Liv or love?" she asks. I brush her hair away from her neck and rest my hand there, feeling the beating of her pulse. "Either," I answer. "They're the same to me.”