The Man in the High Castle - Pg 144

   Her body and the body of the man in her arms were damp with perspiration. A drop, rolling down Joe's forehead, clung a moment to his cheekbone, then fell to her throat.
   "You're still dripping," she murmured.
   He said nothing. His breathing, long, slow, regular . . . like the ocean, she thought. We're nothing but water inside.