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“Astrid found the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it up over his head. She unbuckled his belt and shoved his jeans to the deck. She pushed him, gently but insistently, onto the bed. Then she undressed herself and stood in the faint light, looking down at him as he gazed up at her. “You’re giving me a reason to live,” he said, half joking. “I’m just recapturing the mood,” she said, trying to make it sound light and sexy. “You captured me a long time ago.” She climbed atop him. “We walk out of this together, Sam. Whatever it takes. You and me.” “You and me,” he said. She would not yet let him have her. “Whatever it takes,” she insisted. “Say it.” “You and me,” he said at last. “Whatever it takes.” “Swear it.” — Michael Grant
Astrid found the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it up over his head. She unbuckled his belt and shoved his jeans to the deck. She pushed him, gently but insistently, onto the bed. Then she undressed herself and stood in the faint light, looking down at him as he gazed up at her.
“You’re giving me a reason to live,” he said, half joking.
“I’m just recapturing the mood,” she said, trying to make it sound light and sexy.
“You captured me a long time ago.”
She climbed atop him. “We walk out of this together, Sam. Whatever it takes. You and me.”
“You and me,” he said.
She would not yet let him have her. “Whatever it takes,” she insisted. “Say it.”
“You and me,” he said at last. “Whatever it takes.”
“Swear it.