Rebecca

“I sit on top of him, and with my heartbeat in my throat, I kiss him. He sits up straighter and I feel his hands on my shoulders. His fingers slip down my spine and a shiver follows them down to the small of my back.”
― Veronica Roth, Divergent

“He tilts his head and kisses the skin just beneath my jaw. I’m glad the air is so loud he can’t hear me sigh.”
― Veronica Roth, Divergent

“He unzips my jacket a few inches, and I press my hands to my legs to stop them from shaking. I should not be nervous. This is Tobias. Cold air slips across my bare skin.”
― Veronica Roth, Divergent

“I like you.” He says it plainly, boldly, and his eyes flick up to mine. “And don’t call me ‘Four,’ okay? It’s nice to hear my name again.” Just like that, he has finally declared himself, and I don’t know how to respond. My cheeks warm, and all I can think to say is, “But you’re older than I am . . . Tobias.” He smiles at me. “Yes, that whopping two-year gap really is insurmountable, isn’t it?” “I’m not trying to be self-deprecating,” I say, “I just don’t get it. I’m younger. I’m not pretty. I—” He laughs, a deep laugh that sounds like it came from deep inside him, and touches his lips to my temple. “Don’t pretend,” I say breathily. “You know I’m not. I’m not ugly, but I am certainly not pretty.” “Fine. You’re not pretty. So?” He kisses my cheek. “I like how you look. You’re deadly smart. You’re brave. And even though you found out about Marcus . . .” His voice softens. “You aren’t giving me that look. Like I’m a kicked puppy or something.” “Well,” I say. “You’re not.” For a second his dark eyes are on mine, and he’s quiet. Then he touches my face and leans in close, brushing my lips with his. The river roars and I feel its spray on my ankles. He grins and presses his mouth to mine.”
― Veronica Roth, Divergent