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“He shook her. "Listen to me!" She looked him in the eye and said very gently, "No." And his fear and frustration and longing, and all that he'd kept so carefully tamped down deep inside himself, simply exploded. He pulled her roughly into his arms and bent his head to devour her lips. She was sweet and soft, and her taste was like balm for his wounded soul. He opened her mouth with his tongue, thrusting inside almost desperately, as if her depths held all the secrets he needed to sustain life. She moaned low in her throat, so softly he felt more than heard it, a tremor against his lips, and he moved his hand to her jaw so that he might press his thumb against the pulse of her throat and understand the emotions that swept through her.” — Elizabeth Hoyt