“I want lots and lots of sex.""You really are the woman of my dreams.""First round, wet shower sex, after we scrape off a few layers of the Alaskan tundra, then a short and satisfying lunch break. Then a second round of make-the-mattress-sing sex.""I feel a tear of gratitude and awe forming in the corner of my eyes. Don't think less of me.”

“I want a beer. I want a giant, ice-cold bottle of beer and shower sex.”

“She heard music. Angels singing? she thought, dizzy. It seemed odd for angels to sing after table sex. She managed to swallow on a throat wildly dry. "Music," she murmured. "My phone. In my pants. Don't care.""Oh. Not angels." "No. Def Leppard.”

“Sex might satisfy, food might fuel, love might sustain, but without coffee, what is the point?”

“You did that on purpose.""Did what on purpose?""Wore the don't-touch suit and the sex goddess perfume at the same time just to drive me crazy.""Listen to the suit, Quinn. Dream about the perfume.”

“Those big blue eyes were swimming, and he was afraid that if the first tear fell, he would break and carry her off anywhere she wanted to go.”

“Let's go have lotsa drunk sex before it hits.""'Kay. Drunk sex for everybody!”