“She leaned in, and kissed her Marid gently, sweetly. She tried to kiss him the way she’d always thought kisses would be. His lips tasted like the sea.”

“I kiss her. I kiss her and kiss her. I try not to bite her lip. She tastes like vodkahoney.”

“She opened her mouth to answer, but he was already kissing her. She had kissed him so many times—soft gentle kisses, hard and desperate ones, brief brushes of the lips that said good-bye, and kisses that seemed to go on for hours—and this was no different. The way the memory of someone who had once lived in a house might linger even after they were gone, like a sort of psychicimprint,herbody rememberedJace.Remembered the way he tasted, the slant of his mouth over hers, his scars under her fingers, the shape of his body under her hands.”

“At first it was the complete antithesis of the kiss she’d shared with Matthew. That one had been crazy, emotional. Uncontrolled. This was a gentle mating of lips. Soft, sweet, and easy. He didn’t press for her to grant him access, but she gave it, opening for him with a low moan.”

“When his hard hand cupped her face, an involuntary shiver raced up her spine, but she made no objection Then his lips were on hers.It wasn’t what she expected. Instead of hot demand, there was testing, tasting. He shaped her lips with his, tilting his head this way and that, as though searching for the best angle. Her heart pounding, she conceded they were all good. But she wanted more. Without thought, she opened her mouth against his.She sensed him stiffen, but instead of deepening the kiss, he started to pull back. Abandoning any pretense that she didn’t want this, hadn’t thought about it since the first moment she’d laid eyes on him, she caught his head and really kissed him.”

“And then I tasted nothing but his sweet lips, pressed firmly to mine, as I kissed him like it was my job.”