“The way he kissed me felt like a brand. Like he was tattooing himself under my skin.”

“Ben kissed me like he could kiss me forever, like he had to kiss me forever and he wanted to, he wanted me, and when he felt my surprise at that, I could feel again how beautiful I was to him, how I was beautiful beyond words.”

“He had me hooked like he was my own personal brand of heroin.”

“He liked to think of himself as fighting trim. At this point though, he was more like pacifist fat. Or at least he felt that way, stuffed to the gills.”

“He started to say something, maybe an apology and maybe not, and then he stopped, he leaned over and pulled me toward him - like by gravitational force. He kissed me, hard, and his skin was stubbly and rough against my cheek. My first thought was, I guess he didn't have time to shave this morning, and then - I was kissing him back, my fingers winding through his soft yellow hair and my eyes closed. He kissed like he was drowning and I was air. It was passionate, and desperate, and like nothing I had ever experienced before.This was what people meant when they said the earth stopped turning. It felt like a world outside of that car, that moment, didn't exist. It was just us.”

“He rolled me under him to kiss me. It wasn't a gentle kiss like at the beach, or passionate kiss like the one that happened in his room. It was desperate. Desperate and hungry and sad.A good-bye kiss.”