“I left you sweet and smiling in this goddamed bed and I don’t see you or hear your voice for four days? Then I walk into your office and you give me attitude and tell me to kiss your ass because you’re in a pissy mood about some shit you refuse to share? No. You gotta know, darlin’, that shit don’t play with me.”

“Toasted almond pancakes. Sweet soft 'okays'. Makin' me laugh more in a few weeks than I have in decades. 'Yes, Daddys' I feel in my dick. The first voicemail you left me, babe. I saved it and I listen to it once a day. If I lose focus, I see you on your back, knees high, legs wide, offering your sweet, wet pussy to me. You smile at me in bed every time you wander outta my bedroom in my shirts, my tees, or your work clothes and honest to Christ, it sets me up for the day. And no matter what shit goes down, I get through it knowin' whichever bed I climb into at night, you're in it ready to snuggle into me or give me what I wanna take. Your girl, a headache. You, never. And in a life that's been full of headaches, babe, having that, there is no price tag. You gotta get it and do it fuckin' now that there's a lotta different kinds of give and take. And you give as good as you get, baby, trust me.”

“I don't know what shit you're working though but I know its there. I know you'd rather not even acknowledge it and definitely don't want me to be a part of the process. I don't care. Princess, this is happening between you and me.""What, exactly, do you mean by 'this'? You fucking me?" I snapped..." Yeah. Me fucking you. In your bed, on your couch, in my bed and anywhere else I can think of. I'm gonna do you on your back, on your knees and you're gonna ride me. And when I've exhausted you and you don't have those fucking shields up, I'm gonna make you talk to me and tell me what this shit is about and then, maybe, I can help you with it.”

“You’re perfect, baby.”I blinked. Then I whispered, “Knight – ““No, Anya, no fucked up shit outta that sweet mouth. I’m not gonna listen to it and I’ll work my balls off, I don’t care if it takes decades, to make you stop even thinkin’ it. Instead, you gotta know that every second I spend with you it becomes more and more clear that you were made for me. A gift I don’t deserve, didn’t earn but I’m not giving it back.”

“Just so you know, I speak English. You don’t have to macho-speak with shit like ‘you with me’ after you macho-speak with a bunch of bossing me around. I get you. I’m with you. Or if I’m not, I’ll tell you.”“Noted,” he muttered but sounded like he was smiling. I made the diplomatic decision not to look.”

“I don’t put up with the shit you’ve handed me the last week because you’re some fuckin’ piece I want to conquer. I put up with it because I’ve liked you since you were eight years old. You made me laugh. You understood me. You looked out for me when no one else fuckin’ bothered and you acted like you thought I could move mountains and I needed someone who thought that about me because my Dad sure as fuck didn’t.”

“I’ve shared more breakfasts with you thanany woman I’ve dated in the last year and a half,” Mitch returned.“I know what you look like in the morning. I know what you act likewhen you come home tired after work. I know that you pick the leastexpensive thing on the menu either to be nice or to be annoying inorder to put me off. But I think it’s to be nice because youare nice and also both times you thought you’d be spendingtime with just me, you dressed in a way that would not, in any way,put me off. I know you cuddle when you’re sleeping. I know you takeonly milk in your coffee and you make coffee strong. I know you’rereally good with kids. And I know that you use music and scents toregulate your mood. So I’m thinking this is not a first date. Thisis more like us hittin’ the six month mark. And the six month markis when you stop talkin’ about shit that really doesn’t matter andstart talkin’ about shit that means everything.”