“Love you.” “See you at five.” “Say it.” “Jesus Christ, just go the fuck back to work.” “Say it and I will.” “No.” I blew out a frustrated growl. “Stop pushing.” “You love it when I push you,” she teased, and then her voice took on a flirty purr when she added, “But you love it even more when I pull you.” “What have I gotten myself into?” “The best relationship of your life.” She wasn’t wrong there. “See you at five.”
