“You can leave. You can hide . . .” He slid in, burying himself to the hilt and filling me so wide and deep that I cried out just once. “But you’re going to be fucking mine someday,” he growled. “Come hell or high water, Emory Scott. You’re my woman, and you’re going to come home to me every day and sit at my table and warm my fucking bed.” He kissed me. “And you’re going to give me a Will Grayson IV. Mark my words.”
