“it was her company he desired. He wanted to put his arms around her andto sit in silence, staring into the fire, drinking wine, smoking the occasional cigarette; thatwould be enough. Life was made up of simple things; he was weary of all the yearshe had spent searching for something, though quite what he didn't know.”

“He imagined them sitting somewhere, just enjoying each other's company, her head on his chest, his arm around her. And he realized how desperately lonely he had become.”

“He felt that alcohol, cigarettes and the occasional cannabis joint was quite enough. There was no need to add caffeine to the list of health risks he put his body through."-Drake Kingsley's reason for not drinking tea or coffee, The Venetian Violinist.”

“He feels as if he is floating, and she is weighting him to earth; he would like to put his arms around her and his face in her apron, and rest there listening to her heartbeat. But he doesn't want to mess her up, get blood all down the front of her.”

“He wanted to wake up every morning to her. Go to sleep with his body wrapped tightly around hers. He wanted her to have his child—his children. He knew he wanted to live out the rest of his life with her by his side and when he died, he wanted to die in her arms.”

“He’d spent his life being a perfect gentleman. He’d never been a flirt. He’d never been a rogue. He hated being the center of attention, but by God, he wanted to be the center of her attention. He wanted to do the wrong thing, the bad thing. He wanted to pull her into his arms and carry her to her bed. He wanted to peel every last inch of her clothing from her body, and then he wanted to worship her. He wanted to show her all the things he wasn’t sure he knew how to say.”