“Jake wasn't about to be seduced like some schoolgirl. Not by a man who went by the unlikely name of Tornado, not by anyone. He stood as firmly as he could in the mud and tore his mouth from the kiss, staring into too dark eyes. As his hands made their way into Tor's wet jeans he said, "This doesn't mean I like you, you know.”

“You son of a bitch!''What? he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 'You were mad.''I wasn't talking about the kiss.'He grinned. 'Does that mean I can do it again?”

“He unsnapped her jeans and said, “I want you just like this.” Then he kissed her.There was nothing romantic about Diaz, no murmured sweet things, no gallant gestures, just this kiss that went on and on, deep and voracious. She’d never been kissed like this before, with an intensity that stripped everything down to the simplest components: male, female. He held her with his hand burrowed into her hair, her skull gripped in his palm, her head tilted back while he fed from her mouth. That was what it felt like, a taking. And yet he gave, too. He gave pleasure. She burned with it, the flames fueled by nothing more than his mouth and tongue.”

“He stood and slipped into his jeans, leaving the waist unsnapped as he made his way to the plane in that loose, lanky stride that had her mouth watering. She loved the look of him, like a cowboy in some Madison Avenue ad. Except that he was the real thing, with big,work-roughened hands and scuffed boots and a high-voltage smile that could reduce her to puddles when it was directed her way.”

“He leans close and says, "It matters to me," right against my mouth, and then kisses me like he means it.I've thought about what it'd be like to kiss Jake over the past few days, way more than I'd care to admit. But I don't even have time to register the firm press of his lips against mine, without breath, before he pulls back. His face freezes, eyes wide with oh shit written across them. Maybe I'd be offended if I wasn't so sure that my own expression matches his perfectly. "I shouldn't have done that," he blurts out. "I'm an idiot.""Yeah," I agree, "you really are."I grab the collar of his shirt and tug him back to me. He makes a muffled sound of surprise in the back of his throat, hesitating for a heartbeat before his mouth opens against mine. Suddenly, we're kissing for real - clumsy at first as we feel each other out, but then I shirt forward into his lap, fall against his chest and tip my head down, and it's like two puzzle pieces snapping into place.He tastes exactly the way I thought he would, of cigarettes and citrus and salt. The ocean. And he kisses like I thought he would, too, hard and hot and urgent, and way better than anyone I've made out with before.”

“Love is like a man who doesn't know his own strength: he means well, but sometimes he crushes you.”