“You look like hell,' he said to me in a low voice.'Gee, Dax, don’t coat it with honey. Tell me what you really think,' I said.”

“Tell me what you want, what you really, really want," he said."Braiiinnnnssss," we said in unison.”

“That's why you love me." "I do not love you. I don't even like you." "You will," he said, his voice low and luscious.”

“Besides, what gives me the entitlement," he says in a low authoritative voice," is when you said yes to going to New York with me, you, in effect said yes to me. I am a part of you now. As such, I am entitled to you.”

“Close your eyes," he said, low and soft. "Look inside yourself and don't think for a second, just ... tell me, how did you feel when I kissed you?"[...]"Unbroken.”

“He turned to me, and do you know what he said to me ? He said in a deadly serious tone, 'Momma, am I dead?' And I said 'no honey, you're not dead', and he shook his head, looking all confused about something. Then he pointed to you dancing and said, 'if I'm not dead, then why is there an Angel in our house.'”