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.

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

Vintage books, old china, antiques; maybe I love old things so much because I feel impermanent myself.

You were the first in every way that counted.

I don't know if real courage lies in storming barricades or simply not denying the truth.

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.

And I thought maybe I didn't need to worry about my heart anymore because it had stopped beating a couple of seconds earlier, and I was still sitting there living and breathing-though admittedly I wasn't feeling much of anything.