Snow's table manners are atrocious - it's like watching a wild dog eat. A wild dog you'd like to slip the tongue.

I can't explain how it's different. Why kissing is easy, and being kissed is like being suffocated.

Mags nodded, and pushed with her shoulders away from the house, then Noel pushed her right back - pinning her as much as he was hugging her as much as he was crowding her against the wall.

Don’t make me angry-kiss you

There's never been a moment,' he barely said, 'when I didn't recognize you.' She wiped her eyes. Her mascara smeared. He nudged the merry-to-round into motion. He could kiss her now. If he wanted. 'I'd know you in the dark,' he said. 'From a thousand miles away. There's nothing you could become that I haven't already fallen in love with.' He could kiss her. 'I know you,' he said.

What about him?” she’d say, finding an attractive guy to point out while they were standing in the lunch line. “Do you want to kiss him?” “I don’t want to kiss a stranger,” Cath would answer. “I’m not interested in lips out of context.

I'm the Cool One," she told herself. "Somebody give me some tequila because I'll totally drink it. And there's no way you're going to find me later having a panic attack in your parents' bathroom. Who wants to French-kiss?

He pulled away to say he's sorry, and she shook her head no, because even though she really want him to be sorry, she wanted to kiss him more.

Well,” she said. “I’m frustrated.” “Don’t make me angry-kiss you.” “Give me the laundry.” “Tempers rising, faces flushed … This is how it happens.