I seem to be stuck in the 19th Century these days. This week my teasers come from page 280 of The Conjugial Angel, by A.S. Byatt, the second novella in her book Angels & Insects:
Then he lifted her from the ground, holding her against his shirt, laying his face gently against hers. His hands and skin spoke to her, he pulled like a magnet, he was strong as a tree, a tree in summer the poet in her head hummed, and she laid her own head on his shoulder, listening to their blood banging and leaping.Hmmmm. Sounds pretty steamy for the Victorians, doesn't it? But then it is A.S. Byatt, so I guess you have to expect a certain amount of "banging and leaping."