“She had a foul mouth. I didn’t think I could be more smitten.”

“I had cooperated. I could not have refused. I was smitten with her, half in love but also afraid, because in my life (and she seemed to know this) I had not loved anyone without having been wounded. Love was power and possession, love caused pain: you were never more exposed than when you were in love, never more wounded; possession was an enslavement, something stifling.”

“I didn’t shave my mustache off. Instead what I did was taped Elton John’s asshole to my top lip and then all of the sudden I had twice the dick in my mouth as before. It was almost more than I could swallow. Almost. 
”

“A smitten smile unexpectedly shot across my face, and I quickly hid it as best I could–purely out of habit. Will Stephens doesn’t get smitten smiles.”

“And she didn’t want to escape. She wanted to be kissed in the sunlight by a gorgeous man. She just wanted some other man, not this complicated creature who had more secrets than she could even begin to imagine.But it didn’t matter what her brain wanted. Her body, her mouth, her soul wanted him, and she heard a quiet little sound of desire and knew that it had come from her.”

“But I could never see what was so awful and wrong about being honest. And I didn’t think it had anything to do with being an only child. I believed it had more to do with the fact that I had an inherently low bullshit tolerance, and what the hell is wrong with that?”