From Cersei’s first chapter:
Jaime hugged her, his good hand pressing against the small of her back. He smelled of ash, but the morning sun was in his hair, giving it a golden glow. She wanted to draw his face to hers for a kiss. Later, she told herself, later he will come to me, for comfort.
From Jaime’s first chapter:
For a moment he dared to hope that all she wanted was the comfort of his arms. […] Jaime could smell the fear on her, even through the rank stench of the corpse. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her, to bury his face in her golden curls and promise that no one would ever hurt her … not here, he thought, not here in front of the gods, and Father.