From the Grey House (did I mention this was a romance trilogy?):
Natalia was spent. Vincent was a hell of a lover. She shivered as a breeze cooled the sweat beading on her skin. Vincent nipped at the side of her neck. His cool breath did nothing to help her shivers.
Vincent was sitting on one of the chairs with Natalia in his lap, her chest to his chest. His arms were around her, their fingers entwined. His legs were between hers and her legs were hanging over the edge of the armrests. When they had moved there, Natalia didn’t know. Her memory was unreliable. She moved away a little and looked at the ocean and sky, wondering how she was going to have the energy to go home.
