“She wondered if she had grown obsessed with sex. She admitted to thinking about it almost all the time. ... "And if I'm not thinking about sex, I'm thinking about death," she added bitterly. "Sometimes both at the same time.”

“How could she not know he was thinking about sex? he wondered. It was all he'd been thinking about for the last eighteen hours, give or take a few minutes spent thinking about keeping them both alive. Oh, yeah, and twice he'd thought about food, once about her mother, and once he'd checked to make sure he had an extra mag for his Glock.”

“I don't think I'm the type who falls in love. She was a friend. And we had good sex.”

“Oh come on, Emma. Admit it. You were dreaming about having sex with me. I must've been good if you were about to come."She snorted exasperatedly. "I'm surprised you're even asking about how good you were. Don't you always think you're amazing?”

“If you're right & I'm not, I'm going to be hell to live with, she said. So, you better think about that next time you want to be right. ”

“What was she like?"I tell the truth."She was my dream. She made me who I am, and holding her in my arms was more natural to me than my own heartbeat. I think about her all the time. Even now, when I'm sitting here, I think about her. There could never be another.”