“Why are you kissing me?” she squeaked out breathlessly.“God, how can I not?” He ran his hands up and down her arms. “I think you’re made for me to kiss. I need to kiss you. You need to be kissed,” he said firmly, as if he’d reached some decision that brooked no debate. This did not sound like the smooth-talking and self-possessed charmer of his reputation.”

“...You bring out the truth in me, Callista, and make me whole. I need you to set me free and give me the courage to be as strong as you are. I love you...”

“He saw with pleasure he’d been wrong. The nervous tension and vulnerability she radiated were real, but so too was the core of strength to her. She was simply too smart and too determined to let him get to her, despite the cost evident in her stiff back and tense mouth.He was beginning to quite like his new librarian.”

“You have never kissed me. Patted me, hugged me, but you've never kissed me.""Oh, Rosie, Rosie." His face looked on the point of laughter, then his lips fell gently on hers and he held the kiss for some time. Now, pressing her face from him, he said "That's merely an introduction. When your cheek is better I'll do it properly.”

“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” I said, a little breathless. He grinned and pulled me close again.“I said I was a virgin, not a monk,” he said, kissing me again. “If I find I need guidance, I’ll ask.”

“To her core, she suddenly knew she was not prepared to die at the hands of this worm. She had a betrothal ball to attend, wedding vows to declare, and a good man to love.”

“I don't love you,” he said. And he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, a kiss of passion and desperation, a kiss of deepcurrents and longing. “I don't love you,” he said again.“Of course you don't,” she murmured happily. And she followed him out the door, into the lion's den.”