" She'd watched enough movies, listened to enough of her friends moon over magical kisses. She'd rolled her eyes at description of toes curling and breaths being snatched, of drowning in someone, that made it sound like a great time. Of hearts galloping like the hooves of a hundred wild horses and colors flashing prismatically behind close lids. She'd laughed at how two people pressing their mouths together could ever be described with the sort of near-orgasmic passion that usually required she have her pants off.
[...]
But kissing Brendon? That was a revelation. All those clichés? They didn't hold a candle to the way his lips turned her body into a living, breathing live wire of sensation. "

― Alexandria Bellefleur , Hang the Moon (Written in the Stars, #2)