“Jesus," he buried his face in my neck. "There's nothin' better in the world than hearing you say my name when I'm inside you." He slid in deeper, filling me. "I've been waiting years to be right here.”

“Grace," he whispered as he slid his fingers over my swollen lips. "I want to be inside you so damn bad right now. But when I do that, I want to hear you scream my fucking name as you claw your nails down my back.”

“I like that, he said quietly, his voice back to silk. What? I whispered. You sayin' my name, he told me. I'll like it better when you moan it, tonight, when I'm inside you.”

“Rather than adjust his expectations in the face of disappointment, he (Jefferson) tended to bury them deeper inside himself and regard the disjunction between his ideals and the worldly imperfections as the world's problems rather than his own.”

“Can we go back to the part where you're in love with me?""No, because I'm not anymore. I've come to my senses.""That's a damn shame, that is. You'll have to wait here a minute. There's something I need from inside.""I'll not stand out here. I'm going home.""I'll only come after you, Brenna," he called over his shoulder as he walked to the door.”

“"Joss""What?""What?" Dylan asked back."You just said my name.""No I didn't""Sorry that was me."I sat up, banging my head on the roof. "Who is that?""Hey, stay down here where the air is good, okay?" Dylan pulled me gently back down. "Hows your head?""Not good, I think.""Um, okay, so you here me. Heather's right, you do think loud. I mean, I've never heard you before, but my Talent seems to be a lot more selective than her's. But now that she's got me turned in to you-""Who are you?""It's still me, Marshall. It's Dylan. I'm right here.""My name's Joel.""Joel?""Joss, what are you talking about?" He took my face in his hands. "Who's Joel?""The voice in my head, I guess.""Jesus.”