" Picture, if you will, Tommy, the fuse of a cannon. Now, when one touches a flame to a fuse, what happens? It's consumed bit...'
He stepped toward her, so close that his boot toes nearly touched the toes of her slippers.
She sucked in a breath. But she stood her ground when his knees brushed hers.
'...by bit...'
His voice had gone perilously soft. '...by bit. Until...'
His breath fluttered her hair.
His mouth was next to her ear now. 'Boom. "

― Julie Anne Long , It Happened One Midnight (Pennyroyal Green, #8)