“You fed my heart soup.”

“Nothing works. My throat, my eyelids - nothing but my heart, which - oh god – am I having a panic attack? No, no, you don't almost orgasm with a panic attack.”

“An innocent smile skates closer with her movement, walking fingers up my stomach to halt over my heart, “Mate, you.” She nods, as if declaring this is easy and absolute.”

“His sniff rips a new piece off my heart.”

“Running my fingers into his thick hair, I wallow in the strength and heat surrounding me before he pulls away, giving me such a happy smile it makes my heart rattle inside my chest. There's nothing better in this whole world than to be held in someone's loving stare. A stare they reserve for you.”

“This time you aren't escaping. It's time for a heart transplant.”

“His touch is incredible, it holds my insides, my heart, my mind, shimmering hot heat into cold places, thawing my spirit... and it rejoices. I'm immediately obsessed, consumed with need to stay in this balmy light, soaking in his touch, relishing the euphoria it brings to my discarded spirituality.”