“I can't say I remember this bit in the book,' she commented when he was finished and she was sweeping an applicator along his collarbone and pressing it lightly into the hollow beneath. 'They call it “artistic licence”. ' 'Not just the producers trying to shoe-horn in a scene involving you in a wet shirt?' 'Why would they want that?' There was a soft gleam of white teeth as his lips parted in a smile.”

“The moon had risen behind him, the color of a shark's underbelly. It lit the ruined walls, and the skin of his arms and hands, with its sickly light, making him long for a mirror in which to study his face. Surely he'd be able to see the bones beneath the meat; the skull gleaming the way his teeth gleamed when he smiled. After all, wasn't that what a smile said? Hello, world, this is the way I'll look when the wet parts are rotted.”

“When a guy says,'I'll call you,' and he doesn't say when-that means he won't call you." Kit pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed a couple buttons. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I fished it out, smiling. "Madness," Kit whispered softly into his phone. "I meant I'd call you. This is me calling you.”

“I’m sorry.”She bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to cry. At the same time, she was oddly touched by his apology.“I’m sorry,” he said again.Something tore quite explicitly, and she inhaled but didn’t make a sound.He opened his eyes, looking stricken and hot and savage. “Oh, God, sweetheart. I promise itwill be better next time.” He kissed the corner of her mouth softly. “I promise.”She concentrated on steadying her breath and hoped he would finish very soon. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but this was no longer pleasant for her.He parted his mouth over hers and licked her bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”

“She clasped his hands and pressed her lips to them. 'I want you to be proud of me,' he repeated. She dropped his hands, feeling defeated.”

“You ask for too much, Iain,” she murmured. “More than I can give.”“Do I?”Movement against her made her pause, made her stiffen as she felt him press forward, felt his body shift until his back and shoulders were pressing indecently against her belly and his head was turned, the curve of his cheek lying on her lap.“Can you give me this, Beth? Just one moment to lie here and close my eyes, and feel you beneath me, soft and curved?”“And what would you find?” she asked, her voice little more than a breathless whisper.“Solace.”Closing her eyes, she bit hard on her lip, trying not to weaken against that one word. There had been no hesitation when he said it. It was as if he’d known it—what he’d desired all along, a feeling of tranquility. Peace. Rightness.Her hand hovered over his head, her fingers itching to touch, to run her fingers through his hair, which would be damp with snow. What picture did they make, seated on this bench, a tempest of white swirling around them as he laid his head in her lap?”