“What are you talking about, Dallas?” He walks around the island and takes the seat next to me. “I didn’t think about the logistics when I asked for your help. Now I see how much time you waste going between my place and yours, and I feel bad. You sit in traffic for an hour and a half every day. That’s absurd.” “Don’t feel bad. That comes with living in the city, and I knew it would be a commute when I said yes.” I turn and face him. My knees fit between his parted thighs, and I study his face. “Are you fucking with me about moving in?” “I’m not. I swear. Come live with us, Maven.”
