“Damn, I had the best dream,” he yawns, “my fantasy girl professed her undying love for me in between several rounds of mind blowing sex.”

“In my sex fantasy, nobody ever loves me for my mind. ”

“He had never fainted in his life, and while he knew it was this whole life-mate, mind-blowing-sex business, it was still damned demoralizing to be fainting like a breathless virgin at the end of every encounter.”

“I have no desire to sleep with you. I want to fuck you. And there is no such thing as perfectly good sex.  If it’s “perfectly good,” I mock in falsetto, “he should be shot in the head and put out of everyone’s misery. Sex either blows your fucking mind, or it’s not good enough. You want me to blow your fucking mind, Ms. Lane? Come on.  Do it.  Be a big girl.”

“It didn't matter if i was the kind of girl who had sex, or the kind of girl who had her portrait on on a wall in the library, or the kind of girl who who got into the best college, or the kind of girl who didn't tell her parents everything, or the kind of girl who teachers loved. I just needed to be okay with all the kinds of girl I was.”

“Oh, my God. What was she thinking?! Sex - even superior mind-blowing sex - wasn't worth not being able to see again. Then again.... Rhys chuckled in her ear, his hand splayed across her belly. Interesting train of thought. Shit, I knew I was good, but to the point of wishing you were blind? Damn, I'm a god!”