"Purely political," he agreed, capturing her mouth with his. He tasted defiance in her kiss, warm Dornish sun and the scrape of sand. She was harsh and wild and beautiful, Elia Martell, and something unbroken. He wanted to tame that spirit, make it heed him and love him, but she'd break a little of him in the process.
He looped an arm around her waist to bring her hips flush with his, thinking he'd like to have her narrow thighs wrapped around him soon, before he lost his head entirely.