“Jay advanced. For the second time in his life, he didn’t give a shit what anyone else said about his choice in a lover. He seized Lincoln by the waist and crushed his mouth to the other man’s. Lincoln spread his lips and grabbed hold of Jay. No hesitation. No delay. Everything faded but the strength of that kiss, the power, the depth, the drive of man against man.”

“Lincoln closed his eyes. It seemed like the right thing to do, no matter what happened next. He closed his eyes and felt her fingertips touching his cheek, then his forehead, then his eyelids. He took a breath--ink and hand soap."I" -- he heard her whisper, closer than he expected, and shaky and strange -- "think I might be a very stupid girl."He shook his head no. Just barely. So that only someone who was holding his cheek and his neck would notice."Yes," she said, sounding closer. He didn't move, didn't open his eyes. What if he opened his eyes and she saw what she was doing?She kissed his cheek, and he let his head tip forward into her hands. She kissed his other cheek. And his chin. The groove below his bottom lip. "Stupid girl," she said near the corner of his mouth, sounding incredulous, "what could you possibly be thinking?"Lincoln found his mouth. "Perfect girl," he said so quietly that only someone with her hands in his hair and her lips all but touching his could possibly hear. "Pretty girl." He found her mouth. "Perfect." Kiss. "Magic." Kiss. "Only girl.”

“This time his kiss was full and provocative, summoning sensations she had believed, had hop, were submerged too deeply to be awakened. But his fingers on her face, his mouth, his lips, stirred slumbering emotions and coaxed them to life. His hands moved to cup her head, to spread across her spine, and he crushed her against him as their kisses deepened.”

“Looks like we’re about to get wet,” I said, stating the obvious. He laughed. “I don’t care.” He grabbed me by the waist and turned, slipping me up so I was lying on the hood of the car, pinned there with his body. He ran his hands through my hair, spreading it. “So beautiful,” he whispered. He crushed his mouth to mine, devouring it.”

“Your mother’s coming,” he said.“I know—she probably heard us arguing. Do something!”“What?”“Anything!”“Fine!” He grabbed her around the waist, dragged her body flush against his, and ducked his head. His lips crushed hers as his hands wrapped around her tightly so they were plastered against each other, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, breasts to chest.”

“Man’s glory lies not, Lincoln thought, in ‘his goodness,’ for this is often nonexistent. He derives glory, instead, from his being made in the image of the Living God.”