“In Bengali class, Gogol is taught to read and write his ancestral alphabet, which begins at the back of his throat with an unaspirated K and marches steadily across the roof of his mouth, ending with elusive vowels that hover outside his lips”

“He braced his feet apart and lowered his mouth to her throat and lapped the droplets of water from her skin. “I want to feel your mouth on me. I want you to touch me. Christ, Tess, I’ve missed you.” He followed the slope of her breast and hovered above her nipple, waiting.Finally her lips caressed the column of his throat, her tongue making trails over his skin, her mouth moving down to his chest, across his pec to his nipple, which she bit. Punishment, he knew, but a turn-on anyway.”

“I'm begging you, to come be with me." And she pressed her mouth against his and murmured against his lips. "Forever."For a few seconds he didn't respond.Then a groan escaped his throat and he thrust his fingers in her hair, pulling her mouth back to his with a fierce hunger."Kiss me," she whispered. "And don't stop.”

“Will you remember this day, Gogol?" his father had asked, turning back to look at him, his hands pressed like earmuffs to either side of his head. "How long do I have to remember it?" Over the rise and fall of the wind, he could hear his father's laughter. He was standing there, waiting for Gogol to catch up, putting out a hand as Gogol drew near. "Try to remember it always," he said once Gogol reached him, leading him slowly back across the breakwater, to where his mother and Sonia stood waiting. "Remember that you and I made this journey, that we went together to a place where there was nowhere left to go.”

“The problem with wanting," he whispered, his mouth trailing along my jaw until it hovered over my lips, "is that it makes us weak.”

“Startled, he loosed his grasp and she pulled free. He clutched her arm, but she spun around and pressed her mouth to his. His lips were rough, chapped. She felt the sting of fangs against her bottom lip. He made a sharp sound in the back of his throat and closed his eyes. Mouth opening under hers. The smell of him- of cold, damp stone- made her head swim. One kiss slid into another and it was perfect, was exactly right, was real.”