“My heart is a protest that I let rally against my ribs.”

“He squeezes my hand, and my heart punches against my ribs. It's just like pain, this pleasure.”

“My heart battered against my ribs, my breath stalled and I gazed up into his laughing, smiling eyes...eyes that suddently glowed crimson and cruel.”

“perfection. I have been waiting all my life to be with you. My heart slams against my ribs when I think of the slaughtered nights I spent all over the world waiting to feel your touch.”

“When he laces his fingers through mine, my heart does its now familiar panicked flight, bumping painfully against my ribs. My shoulder twitches as if to pull my hand back, but my heart overrules it.”

“I just had his hand in a vise,” I protested indignantly. “It wasn’t like I had a dagger in his ribs. ‘Hand in a vise’ is simple assault or, in my case, self-defense. ‘Dagger in the ribs’ is attempted murder. My family did teach me the difference.”