“I wanted to reach out and stroke her, to be gentle and tender towards her. Take care of her.”

“Jenna.” Brock stroked the underside of her chin very gently, lifting her face up toward his. “Would it be all right if I kissed you?”

“And carefully... tenderly... taking my time with every brushstroke, I sketch the curve of her neck, apply the crimson of her lips, form her face into a two-dimensional tribute to her beauty.”

“She reached out to him and stroked his cheek. His skin was like velvet as he leaned his face into her hand and closed his eyes. He breathed a sigh and her eyes drifted to his lips. Soft, luscious. Her lips ached to take the kiss there. She leaned in towards Jonas, but he opened his eyes and placed two fingers on her lips to stop her.”

“The water reached up for her, pulled her down tenderly out of the heat, seeped in her hair and ran into the corners of her body. She turned round and round in it, embracing it, wallowing in it.”

“I've never found it helpful to treat fate with a gentle hand. Everytime I've stroked, hopin' fer a favor, she's slapped me hand and laughed at me. If ye want something, take fate by the throat and shake it out o' her.”