“He nodded, his forehead fused with mine. "My head fogs when you kiss me like that. I can't think," he murmured."It does?" I grinned. "I like making your head fog." I kissed him again.”

“Tuck," I breathe, and then he kisses me.I've been kissed before. But nothing like this. He kisses me with surprising tenderness, for all of his gusty talk. Still cupping my face, he gently brushes his lips against mine, slowly, like he's memorizing what I feel like. My eyes close. My head swims with his smell, grass and sunshine and musky cologne. He kisses me again, a litte more firmly, and then he pulls back to look down into my face.”

“I wrap my arms more tightly around his neck and he bends his head to kiss me. When his lips meet mine, there is fire, just like always. But there’s something else, too. Something deeper, sweeter. More meaningful. It makes my heart sing like his kiss makes my toes curl.”

“He cups the back of my neck with his hand and holds the other against my face, rubbing my cheek with his thumb. Slowly, he leans down and kisses me.Soft, then deep.I ooze against the house. I can feel his kiss in my whole body, like warm liquid pouring through me—gold, rich, and melting. After about a minute of what can only be described as sheer ecstasy, Corey rests his forehead against mine so we can both catch our breath. Then he takes my head into his hands and looks at me hard, like his heart is breaking.'I have wanted to do that for so, so long.' I cannot speak. I can only nod yes and hope he knows what I mean. He kisses me more..."... for months and months...""... when you sprayed me with Dr. Pepper...""... at the bakery when you were holding that corned beef...""... and every single time I see you..."I lean against the house and hold on to his wrists so I don't dissolve into a puddle. And I kiss him back. Over and over, I kiss him back.”

“Does it hurt?”He bent his head and lightly kissed her forehead. “Only when I laugh.”“I’ll try not to be funny.”“Epic fail, beautiful.”

“He keeps doing that.” “What?” She laughs. “Kissing your forehead.” “Yeah . . . he does.” I can’t stop my grin. “Does it bother you? I can hear your smile, you know.” “Not really. It doesn’t, like, mean anything. It’s just . . . it’s Ryker.”