Play Along (Windy City, #4)

by Liz Tomforde

“So, who is she?” On this day, where everything feels like a sign, I don’t hesitate when I say, “My future wife.”

“Just think of this as one big game.” His tone is low and deep when he leans down to my ear and whispers, “C’mon wife. Play along.”

“I like holding your hand in public.” He doesn’t even try to lower his voice when he adds, “And I like holding your throat in private.”