“But after shows, I craved connection. I craved skin-the taste of another woman's sweat. If it couldn't be hers, well, then anyone's would do...for a few hours.”

“I have an odd craving to whisper about those few frightful hours in that ill-rumoured and evilly shadowed seaport of death and blasphemous abnormality.”

“I crave your lips.” His breath was sweet. “Give me but one taste and I shall ask no more.”

“He wanted to do things to this woman. He wanted to make her feel the way a good boyfriend would – desired, wanted, craved. She deserved all that. He could give it to her now. He could give it to her for a week.”

“These people have history and I crave history. I crave someone knowing me so well that they can tell what I'm thinking. Jonah Griggs takes my hand under the table and links my fingers with his and I know that I would sacrifice almost anything just to keep this state of mind, for the rest of the week at least.”

“I wondered why she craved this knowledge and found myself remembering that she was, after all, an anthropologist.”