The only reason I left was to protect you.

Don't worry?! You sliced your hand open!

Because there was nothing more terrifying to me, more excruciating, than the thought of turning away from him. it was an impossibility.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself closer to him until my lips touched his.

It felt almost rude to ignore toe pretty white bed, but we just weren’t going to make it that far.

You could run from someone you feared, you could try to fight someone you hated. All my reactions were geared toward those kinds of killers – the monsters, the enemies. When you loved the one who was killing you, it left you no options. How could you run, how could you fight, when doing so would hurt that beloved one? If your life was all you had to give your beloved, how could you not give it? If it was someone you truly loved?

It's easier to come up with new stories than it is to finish the ones you already have. I think every author would feel that way.