“Wrapping his arms around her waist, he kissed her cheek. She inhaled his masculine scent, he smelled of engine grease, citrus hand cleaner and man. She turned in his arms and laid her cheek over his beating heart, treasuring the haven of his embrace...”

“He turned her in his arms and kissed her. His hands were full of woman as she wrapped herself around his body so tight they were melded together from shoulders to hip. But her kisses…they stole his breath with their hunger for him.”

“He bent his head, gently laid his cheek down on top of her breasts and closed his eyes. He inhaled her scent and let out a slow groan. Mine.”

“She tried not to slip her arms beneath his trench coat, or spread her palms across his broad, muscular back, or inhale the delicious scent of him, or rest her cheek against his hard, warm chest. She tried. And failed.”

“Is — is any of this real?" she asked. "Are you real?"He lifted a hand to her cheek, his fingers brushing her jaw."Even if this is a dream," he whispered, "I'm not."Isobel's eyes widened, recognizing those words as her own, the same ones she had once uttered to him. She reached for him, her arms twining around his neck, drawing him closer so his scent poured over her, that combination of incense, citrus, and dried leaves overriding the funeral funeral smell of the crowding flowers."Don't leave," she breathed."I'm here," he whispered. "Right here. Waiting.”

“He kissed the salty tears from her cheeks, her jaw, her neck. And then he kissed her mouth, slowly at first, tasting her pain and despair. Tasting her desire.He didn’t know whether he turned her in his arms, or whether she shifted herself. He only knew she was astride him, facing him, her long legs wrapped around his hips, and the kissing had gone long past comfort.”