“He closes his eyes.Our lips brush lightly."If you ask me to kiss you , I will," he says.His fingers stroke the inside of my wrists, and I burst into flames."Kiss me," I say.He does.”

“If you ask me to kiss you, I will,” he says.His fingers stroke the inside of my wrists, and I burst into flames.“Kiss me,” I say.He does.”

“We are still holding hands.Okay,we should let go.This is the point where it would be normal to let go.Why aren't we letting go?I force my gaze to the Grand Bassin. He does the same.We're not watching the boats. His hand is burning,but he doesn't let go.And then-he scoots closer. Just barely.I glance down and see the back of his shirt has crawled up,exposing a slice of his back.His skin is smooth and pale.It's the sexiest thing I have ever seen.He shifts again,and my body answers with the same.We're arm against arm, leg against leg.His hand crushes mine, willing me to look at hime.I do.Etienne's dark eyes search mine. "What are we doing?" His voice is strained.He's so beautiful,so perfect. I'm dizzy. My heart pounds,my pulse races. I tilt my face toward his,and he answers with an identical slow tilt toward mine.He closes his eyes.Our lips brush lightly."If you ask me to kiss you,I will," he says.His fingers stroke the inside of my wrists,and I burst into flames. "Kiss me," I say.He does.”

“I trail my fingers across his cheek. He stays perfectly still for me. “Please stop apologizing, Étienne.”“Say my name again,” he whispers.I close my eyes and lean forward. “Étienne.”He takes my hands into his.Those perfect hands, that fit mine just so. “Anna?”Our foreheads touch. “Yes?”“Will you please tell me you love me? I’m dying here.”And then we’re laughing. And then I’m in his arms, and we’re kissing, at first quickly—to make up for lost time—and then slowly, because we have allthe time in the world. And his lips are soft and honey sweet, and the careful, passionate way he moves them against my own says that he savors the way Itaste, too.And in between kisses, I tell him I love him.Again and again and again.”

“And, suddenly, I want to touch him. Not a push, or a shove, or even a friendly hug. I want to feel the creases in his skin, connect his freckles with invisible lines, brush my fingers across the inside of his wrist.”

“He glances down and notices that I'm still wearing a certain blue something, and, this time, it's HIS index finger that wraps underneath MY rubber band. I shiver wonderfully. "I'm never taking it off." Cricket brushes the delicate skin of my wrist. "It'll fall off." "I'll ask you for another one." "I'll give you another one." He smiles and touches his nose to mine.”

“Remember that day I made you the elevator?” he suddenly asks.I give him a faint smile. “How could I forget?”“That was the day I had my first kiss.”My smile fades.“I’m better now,” He sets the apple beside me. “At kissing, just so you know.”