“He's the path lined with wildflowers, And I'm Red Riding Hood. I've been warned, but I just can't resist the blossom and perfume that calls me over.”

“Are you going to kiss me?" I blabbered stupidly."I'm working up the nerve," he said softly.”

“You don't have to lie to me to be nice, Jake. You can just say, 'Wow, your nails look crappy.'" I did my best boy voice."Well, I will tell you that's a crappy imitation of my voice." He smiled so wide I could see his eyetooth from across the table. "But you've got to know you're totally hot, chipped nails and all." He burned beet red all the way to the roots of his hair. "Man, you get me to say some embarrassing stuff, Brenna." He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck."Hey, don't blame me when you feel moved to make strange declarations.”

“Not exactly what I wanted, but you know what they say about getting what you want.""That you should want what you have instead?" I guessed."No! That's ridiculous advice. Jesus, who told you that? Never mind, don't even answer that. Just forget you ever heard it. They, and by 'they' I am referring to those who know what the hell they're talking about, say that you can't always get what you want. But if you try sometimes..." He held out his hand for me to finish."You just might get what you need?"He shucked me under the chin and gave me his best cocky smile. "There's hope for you yet."He walked away from me with a determined swagger and didn't look back.”

“His mouth closes in on mine, and that single second before our lips meet spins out for eternity. And it makes graphs and flow-charts and PowerPoints underlining all the reasons we should absolutely not be doing this.But we are.We so completely are.Winch walks me back to the bed and lies me down, his entire body pressed long and perfectly weighted over mine. He kisses me with a gentle, coaxing pressure for a few minutes, like he's taking my temperature, gauging my heart rate, and determining if I'm in.I'm all in.”

“Now my heart is desperate in my chest, like a bird crashing into a window over and over again, confused that it can't get to what it sees and wants, and willing to kill itself in the attempt to remedy that.”

“To hold you. To smell your hair and hope you don’t notice and think I’m some sort of psychotic. To watch the way the light moves over your skin. I want you to get chilly and sleepy and need to press your body tight to mine, and I want to wrap my arms around you. I want whatever you write in that secret book of yours about me to be worth all the other rotten shit you’re going to wind up accepting down the line.”