“She was his as surely as if he'd branded his name on her skin.”

“When he left her room tonight, she wanted his preference to be only her. His hands would only want her skin. He'd only fit perfectly with Severine.”

“After that, he couldn't be sure how it happened, but she wasn't crying anymore and he wasn't thinking. At all. His hands were underneath her sweater, touching every inch of her warm, smooth skin; they were kissing like two condemned people suddenly given a reprieve; and his feeling of calm morphed into happiness so intense, he'd swear his blood was singing.”

“He'd closed the door to all of his emotions years ago, but now, the aroma that seeped from her flawless skin was an intoxicating mixture of lilacs and rain, captivating his senses.”

“She named her cat Phil Donahue, hoping he'd greet her the way Donahue ran to the women in his audience, eager to hear anything they had to say about seat belts, war, or divorce.”

“She was his and he was hers. They had under-the-skin privileges.”