“What if I pull you at a million different speeds? What if I slow and speed and stop and speed and slow? Are you prepared to grow exhausted of me?” My eyes burn. Thatcher doesn’t recoil. “I’m prepared to be with you at every speed, and there’s no way you’ll exhaust me.” I arch my brows. “How can you be so sure?” He is all confidence and man. “Because I don’t tire that easily.”
