Being hungry is something you get very used to in the French Foreign Legion,

[The legion sticks to traditional methods of instruction. A savage punch to the stomach helps most officers make their point, followed by a knee to the face if the recruit objects. Soldiers are put through a punishing physical routine of forced marches with heavy loads, marathon runs of no determined distance, or convict-style projects like filling a vast pit with boulders that have to be lifted by hand.] This ain't an army, ... This is Devil's Island.

It was too late for the truth – and too soon.

You promised me a kiss,” she whispered.
“A rash comment in the heat of the moment.” His face was so close she could feel electricity snapping between them.
“I think I’m still feeling that heat.”
She tilted her hips. He groaned. It was enough. His mouth captured hers.

Look.” He stepped closer, his voice lowered to a gruff murmur, and lifted her chin with his finger, forcing her to meet his gaze – which just made her want to stretch up and kiss him.

There are many things in my life I want to forget. But this I intend to remember.