Have I ever told you, you look like Monty Clift? he inquired in a deep, seductive voice. Before or after the accident?

Jake's mouth found mine, his lips molding hot and soft to my own. His tongue tentatively tested the seal of my lips; I parted them and he pushed inside. It was startlingly sweet and achingly familiar, like finding harbor.

...Jake, a homosexual cop buried so deep in the closet he didn't know where to look for himself.

Cops before breakfast.Before coffee even. As if Mondays weren't bad enough.

I think it was Mark Twain who said, “Get your facts straight, and then you can distort them as much as you like.

Rachel delivered it like an official pronouncement. Like she was one of the fairies gifting Sleeping Beauty's christening: Beauty. Intelligence. Heterosexual.

We were locked onto each other as though we had just discovered this incredible thing you could do with two mouths pressing close and moist against each other. And the taste of him... Horrifyingly, unbearably sweet -- sweet in the way crack must feel hitting the bloodstream of an addict after years of staying clean.