“Her tongue was in his mouth, and oh, Jesus, God, she tasted good. Like coffee and brandy and woman. Any thought of resistance fled.She kissed him endlessly, again and again and again, like she was starving. Like she might never get enough. Like she could eat him alive. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever known.”

“Her perfume enveloped him as he reached for her. His hands smoothed over soft fabric before finding the warmth of her skin. She lifted her mouth to his and kissed him hungrily, greedily. She tasted so good. Like sin. Like every dirty thought he’d ever had.”

“Now Hadley presses her forehead against the window of the taxi and once again finds herself smiling at the thought of him. He's like a song she can't get out of her head. Hard as she tries, the melody of their meeting runs through her mind on an endless loop, each time as surprisingly sweet as the last, like a lullaby, like a hymn, and she doesn't think she could ever get tired of hearing it.”

“Davy's kiss tasted like vodka and disaster, and even while she kissed him back, Tilda thought, I'm never going into a closet with this man again. He slipped his hand under her T-shirt, and she said, "You know," as his hand slid up to her breast, but the only thing left to say was, I'm not that kind of girl, and of course she was.”

“He had kissed her good night that night, and she had tasted like strawberry daiquiris, and he had never wanted to kiss anyone else again.”

“I’ve been dying to know,” he said again, “how you taste.”Oh, hell. Her right hand grabbed the back of his head, and she yanked him down toward her.Their mouths met. Open. Ready. Lips kissed. Tongues licked. And—damn!Yes, she wanted.The control she’d held so tightly began to crack. She jerked in her seat, struggling to press against him. He took her mouth. Tasted her. Tormented her. And she met him. No, she fought him, fought him for more.”