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“Control? You? A man?” He slaps a palm down on the table. “Shit, I’ve never heard something funnier. Carter, let me tell ya something, son.” Leaning on his elbow, he braces his hand out between us, pointing my way. “In a relationship, the only person ever in control is the woman. She always—always, always, always—has the power. She owns you and those dangly things between your legs.” He cups both hands side by side, around imaginary balls, I presume. Leaning back in the booth, he sighs. “The sooner you realize that the better.”
“I’m not a princess.” He hits me with a wink, shifting the car back into gear. “You’re my princess.”