“I was so anxious about what kind of kiss it would be-because my friends back home described so many types-and it turned out to be the beautiful kind. You didn't shove your tongue down my throat. You didn't grab my butt. We just held our lips together...and kissed.”

“And she kissed me. It was the kind of kiss that I could never tell my friends about out loud. It was the kind of kiss that made me know that I was never so happy in my whole life.”

“It was the kind of kiss I could never tell my friends about out loud. It was the kind of kiss that made me know I was never so happy in my whole life.”

“So that you remember that you kissed my hand, but I didn't kiss yours.”

“Let me inform you of something," he says in a low voice. "The moment my lips touch yours, it will be your first kiss. Because if you've never felt anything when someone's kissed you, then no one's ever really kissed you. Not the way I plan on kissing you." He drops his hands and keeps his eyes locked on mine while he backs up to the stove. He turns around to tend to the pasta like he didn't just ruin me for any other guy for the rest of my life. I can't feel my legs, so I do the only thing I can. I slide down the refrigerator until my butt meets the floor and I inhale.”

“And then he kissed me. Softly, like a friendly, nice-to-meet-can-I-strip-your-clothes-off-and-bury-myself-inside-you-kind of kiss.I finally pulled back, but I didn't want to and hoped that I had been able to convey a yes-you-can-and-why-haven't-you-done-it-already response when I'd moaned and shoved my tongue into his mouth.”