Paul and I stood in the doorway of my walk-in closet staring at the carnage that our passion had left behind. We were both nude and smeared in blood—both his and mine. Most of my clothes still hung on hangers except for where the shelving units had been crushed or wrenched from the walls. I grimaced at the amount of blood smeared on my clothes, my wall, and my once pristine white carpet.

I reached out unconsciously to touch the love bite on my shoulder … one of the love ...