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.

I thought I recognized you." Really? He remembered me looking like Swamp Thing? How flattering.

Shrugging out of the damaged shirt, Jake said roughly, “I still dream about you.” “I have nightmares about you.” I dragged my T-shirt over my head, threw it aside.

I thought again how odd it was to be on formal terms with someone you had once permitted to lick your ears.

Do you still do the clubs?” Jake shakes his head. “You do the clubs because you can’t find what you need at home. I’ve got everything I need. I’ve got the answer to needs I didn’t even know I had.

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

I'm not insane. This is very simple, very straightforward. Provided he doesn't kill me, its foolproof.