Wait." He paused, and she held out a hand to him. His thick fingers engulfed her tapering ones; his skin was warm and dry, and scorched her. "Before we go pick up poor Lieutenant Illyan again..." He took her in his arms, and they kissed, for the first time, for a long time. "Oh," she muttered after. "Perhaps that was a mistake. It hurts so much when you stop." "Well, let me..." his hand stroked her hair, gently, then desperately wrapped itself in a shimmering coil; they kissed again.
-Lois McMaster Bujold
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