Ernest Hemingway. For whom the bell tolls (№ 91662)

And then their lips met closely-closely, and she lay very close to him, and slowly her lips opened, and suddenly pressed her to him, he felt he had never been so happy, so easily, lovingly, gleefully happy, no thoughts, no anxiety, no fatigue, only a huge pleasure, and he said, My little rabbit. My favorite. My long lovely.