Is 'Every Breath You Take' A Love Song Or Creepy?

'I don’t need paradise because I found you. I don’t need dreams because I have you.' Cheryl Richards is not the romantic type. 'Believe in what you can prove scientifically,' is her motto. But when The Greek billionaire Nikolas Adamos came to her rescue, every certainty went out the window. The life at his side is divine: luxurious hotels, designer clothes, expensive jewelry… And what they’re doing in the bedroom is out of this world. Yes, Nikos is her knight in shining armor… But the consequences of one night led to a shocking end to Cheryl's fairytale. She discovers Nikolas is not her Prince Charming … He's a man who'll do whatever it takes to make Cheryl his!

They say that psychos can never love. But what if a psycho falls in love? It sounds like a joke, doesn't it? But he punishes the people who make fun of his love in front of him. A ticket to hell. He is a psycho, A serial killer, A ruthless ruler, And what else? An Obsessed Lover. His heart decided to beat again, only after seeing her. He was drawn to her not only by her beauty but by her innocence. Because even the devil himself feeds on innocent souls. Her laughter settled in his ear. Her smile gave him breath and her face made his heart beat. Having found the reason to live once again, now he did not want to lose it. Now she had become a means of living for him. Why? Because have we not known from the beginning that love conquers all? Her innocent love conquered his evil but in the midst of all this, she lost her soul. How? Because he snatched it from her. He used his evil ways to get her and that is how he broke her. Injured her. And that was the reason, she could not love him back It was complicated. A pure venom was inflicted by him. In her. It was so toxic that it just made her soul leave her body. His insanity proved fatal. But whatever others say, the feeling was pure. It was naive and that is why it is still called Love.

Love can hit you when you least expect it. It could be a soft easy wind that caresses you and gets stronger over time till it absorbs into your body and heart. Other times it can hit you like a gale-force wind and take every breath you will ever have. Laken stole my breath. She was my gale-force wind, and I will gladly give her every breath I have just to keep her safe, alive, and mine. If I have to live without her then I don’t want my breath. I don’t want anything but her. I will go to hell and back to get her from the grips of death.

Sometimes we feel like its actually love but we maybe confused not its not may be its an attraction i guess

I put my t-shirt down, my hands shaking. I try to ignore them and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair color is dark brown and a vague hint of golden. My dad used to say that my eyes are ocean blue. A guy in my history cl once said that I had perfect s. Another guy said that I had a great body. They wanted to date me. And I dated few of them. I brush my fingers in my forehead. Then my dark, thick eyelashes. The side of my nose. My s. I run my hand at my neck, then across my collarbone. Am I beautiful? Honestly, I don't know. Maybe I'm not. "You were wrong, Angelina Valentine." A voice inside my head suddenly whispers. "Calm down, Angel," another voice whispers. It's the voice I loved. His voice is fading away. My hands start shake again, my breath rapidly quickening. I am losing control. I have to do something. "Goddammit!" I punch the mirror with my fist. It shatters into thousand pieces. My reflection has shattered into thousand pieces, too. The mirror now looks to me like an art. And my bloody knuckles. "I am sorry, Edwin. I can't promise you anymore, because you left me." I bite my to stop myself from crying. I won't cry. What's the point of crying? My sixth sense is suddenly alert. Somebody is watching me. I spin around. A guy is standing in front of the door, leaning against it. He wears a tight blue shirt, the sleeves folded. His black hair is ruffled and his hands are folded across his chest. The probable most amazing thing about him is his eyes. They are dark green. They are dangerous, beautiful and incredibly unreadable. And they are watching me.

The day my husband's first love shows up at my house, I catch a faint, cloyingly sweet scent of gardenias in the air. My genetically-linked asthma flares violently at the scent of gardenias. As expected, halfway through the meal, my chest suddenly tightens. I can barely draw a breath before collapsing onto the couch. My younger brother sprints into my bedroom like he's lost his mind, grabs an inhaler, and shoves it straight to my mouth. "Tess!" he roars. "Why the hell is there gardenia perfume?" Everyone panics. My dad grabs a liquor bottle. My mom lunges forward, grabbing the woman by the hair. And my husband positions himself in front of her, protecting his beloved first love as she trembles. Amid the chaos, I muster the last of my strength. I reach into the crack of the couch, grab another inhaler, take a deep breath, and slowly push myself upright. I let out a cold laugh as I fix my gaze on the woman cowering behind my husband. "Finished with your little performance? It's my turn now."