“...the wet brush of snowflakes was like your kisses everywhere ...”

“He looked around at the perfectly white world, felt the wet kisses of the snowflakes, pondered hidden meanings in the pale yellow streetlights that shone in a world so whitely asleep. "Beautiful," he whispered.”

“An instant later, they were kissing. It was no light brush this time, no exploring touch. This was all tongues and teeth and wicked wetness as he kissed her like a man who had rough, sweaty, dirty sex on his mind and didn't care if she knew it.”

“She could hear wisps of fog brushing against the buildings like wet velvet.”

“To by held above the earth and be brushed by the wind," she said,"it's like your heart has been kissed by beauty.”

“You're mine, Angel," he murmured, brushing the words across my jawbone as I arched my neck higher, inviting him to kiss everywhere. "You have me forever.”