“Because tonight is perfect. The sun is really setting now and it’s beautiful. The oranges and reds and golds are shining over the horizon and onto our skin and everything is romantic and dreamy. It’s like a dream, actually. I lean up and kiss Dante’s cheek and he smells like the ocean and the salt and the sun. And maybe the woodsy scent of the olive groves. I sigh. There’s no way that life gets any better than this. I settle back into his side for the drive and he wraps his arm around me.”

“I crumple onto the lounger and cry again even though I didn’t think I had any tears left. And then Dante is next to me, with his wet arms around me and he’s whispering in my ear. And the huskiness of his voice. The smell of his wet skin. The beating of his heart against my hand. All of it. I don’t want to be without him. Maybe he’s right. Maybe love is all that matters. And we can get through our differences. We can get through anything. And then he’s kissing me. And I’m letting him. And I’m kissing him back. Because I love him and he loves me and Elena Kontou doesn’t matter. Dante’s hands are all over me, warm and strong and I lean into him, into his warmth, his strength. It’s still raining, but we are kissing in the rain and it’s sexy as hell. In fact, I think I’ll kiss in the rain forever. For the rest of my life. Because it’s just that sexy.”

“Wrapping his arms around her waist, he kissed her cheek. She inhaled his masculine scent, he smelled of engine grease, citrus hand cleaner and man. She turned in his arms and laid her cheek over his beating heart, treasuring the haven of his embrace...”

“I felt sad because I knew I couldn't hold the ocean's beauty for long enough, nor the sun and the salty wind; and yet, I was happy because I knew I took part of the ocean with me, and the remembrance of the ages with the salt impregnated onto my skin. This is how I felt as the sun was setting, dipping into the ocean, slowly moaning in silence, as the salt and wind eclipsed it, and silence broke free with the night's veil of shadows.”

“Ren," I whispered. "I want-"And then I was leaning over him, my cropped hair brushing against his cheeks as I bent to kiss him. Our lips met and I felt like I was diving into oblivion. The kiss grew deep, inmediate and hungry. He lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist, molding my body against his.”

“Are you cold?” he asks, turning toward me to run the backs of his fingers up and down my upper arm, as if testing the temperature of my skin. “Here,” he says, taking off his jacket and draping it over my shoulders. The jacket is warm and heavy and smells just like Nash, like whatever cologne or soap he uses. I figure it must be called delicious, maybe by Armani or some other fancy designer. It almost makes my mouth water. “Is that better?” He wraps his arm around me, too, as if to ensure I won’t be cold. Of course, I won’t complain. Even if I was sweating, I wouldn’t complain.“That’s much better, thank you.”