“He was ridiculously gorgeous, even with bed-head--maybe because of it. It made her sick--like violently, ill. He could at least be polite and have some scars, a third nipple, or a low-hanging ear on the side of his head.But no. He was perfect and adorable and in her bed. And, oh yeah, she felt like punching the shit out of him.”

“She watched as Michael stripped and walked toward the bed, his erection standing proud. The bed dipped as he got in the other side. She rolled toward him, and he pulled her into his arms. His skin was cool against hers, making her nipples bead. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself against him, offering him her heat.Offering him everything.”

“He could not feel her near him in the darkness nor hear her voice touch his ear. He waited for some minutes listening. He could hear nothing: the night was perfectly silent. He listened again: perfectly silent. He felt that he was alone.”

“and even though I was in bed and he was in his basement, it really felt like we were back in that uncreated third space, which was a place I really liked visiting with him.”

“Piney woke up wearing a big grin on his face. He couldn’t remember when he’d slept so well. He pulled the pillow next to him up over his face. He could smell her hair on it.“Jesse,” he murmured to himself. He liked her. He really liked her. And he loved, loved, loved doing her.Being inside her. She was so hot. She was so tight. She was…Piney stopped himself in midthought and rolled out of bed. His mind was headed where his body could not go.”

“And perhaps she loved him all the more because he was not soaring high above her, like all her previous divinities, but walking side by side with her. Yes, she loved him; by the time he had asked her for the third dance she loved him.”