“Testing, she lifted her hips, let them fall. "Oh, for God's sake. We can't do this on a talking bed. Everybody in the house will know what's going on in here."Enjoying himself, he nuzzled at her throat. "I believe they already suspect we have sex.""Maybe, but that's different than having the bed yell out, 'Whoopee!"Was it any wonder he adored her? he thought.Watching her face, he trailed a finger over her breast. "We'll have quiet, dignified sex.""If sex is dignified it's not being done right.”

“Sex is natural.” He trailed one finger down the valley between her breasts to her navel, making her stomach muscles jitter in response. “And fucking beautiful.” His clear blue eyes held hers. “Now, forget everything else,” he said, “And Get. On. That. Bed.”

“I don’t remember waking up that Sunday morning —- perhaps I never slept. Iwas just sitting up in bed watching Sarah sleep. She’d slept naked in my bed but she hadn’t let me have sex with her. I didn’t care. I loved watching her sleep. The light was falling through my window, all over the blue sheets of my old bed, and onto her face. I lifted up the sheets and watched her breasts move with her breath. They seemed to be sleeping themselves. I hoped that she wouldn’t wake up. I laid the sheet back over her, right up to her chin. I looked up and out of my room.I thought, This must be what praying is like.”

“He wonders if words aren't an essential element of sex, if talking isn't finally a more subtle form of touching, and if the images dancing in our heads aren't just as important as the bodies we hold in our arms. Margot tells him that sex is the one thing in life that counts for her, that if she couldn't have sex she would probably kill herself to escape the boredom and monotony of being trapped inside her own skin. Walker doesn't say anything, but as he comes into her for the second time, he realizes that he shares her opinion. He is mad for sex. Even in the grip of the most crushing despair, he is mad for sex. Sex is the lord and the redeemer, the only salvation on earth.”

“Aren‘t you going to get up?"He put a hand on the curve of her hip, a possessive gesture that had already becomefamiliar. "No. Let‘s have more sex.”

“We didn't have sex. We never got naked. I never touched her bare breast, and her hands never got lower than my hips. It didn't matter. As she slept, I whispered, "I love you, Alaska Young.”