The next week was filled with work during the day and Mason at night. She was inspired by him to the point of madness, her fingers itching to write every day when she woke up in his arms. The words flowed from her like a fountain and she felt almost possessed, just the vessel for the story to have its tale told. The story felt alive, like a living, breathing entity that she had to feed constantly. Each morning she woke in Mason’s bed, they shared breakfast and then she came back to her apartment and sat down at her computer to write for eight hours straight, her fingers not...