“She rubbed her cheek on his chest like a sleepy cat. “I like when you hold me.”Dios, she was going to break his heart. “I like when I hold you too.”

“Hold me? If you still want to, I mean." She looked away. "Everyday"--then he was there, lifting her into his arms, holding her like she was fragile and precious--"I want to hold you every day. Nothing will ever change that.”

“Put me down.”“Nope.” He held her snuggled to his bare chest, tipping her up so he could rub his cheek against hers. “I like carrying you.”

“I love it when you look at me like that,' he murmured, his fingers kneading into the plump flesh of her cheeks, 'How am I looking at you?' she managed. 'Like you want to eat me alive, but you don't have a spoon.”

“I love you so much, I think there are burn marks on my heart.” Blake touched his chest.“Do they hurt?”“Only when I’m not holding you.”“Hold me always then. I’m yours.”

“He closes his hand around mine and I hold on. I like his hand. It's big and holds easy but sure. It's the kind of hold that says, I got you if you want me, but I'll let you go if you feel like running for a while.”