Passage Through Midnight [antikvár]

"Isn't lovemaking extraordinary?" she said drowsily, her words flattened by the warm air and heavy furnishings of the room. "In what way?" he asked. He was lying on his back beside her, a sheet covered them both, and his hand rested lightly on her bare belly. "It's ridiculous—afterwards," she said. "You doing all those undignified things to me. Me doing all those undignified things to you. And so engrossed; so enjoying it. We hardly know each other as people, but I know your body very well." She was silent for a moment. "And now I feel shy," she added. She was stretched beside him on the large bed and the sunlight coming through the window, diamond bright, striped the white sheet with yellow. They were not touching, but as her voice trailed into silence he took her hand and squeezed it. "There's no need to be shy," he said. "Anyway, it's too late after what you call all those undignified things we've done to each other" She made a small sound that could have been a stifled laugh and then leaned up on her elbow to look down at him. He was tall enough for his feet to reach the very end of the bed, blond, with fair hair coating his chest and glinting in the sunlight. Even without clothes he looked very American, she thought. 1