““Here,” he growled and I blinked. “Deacon, I’m not a big fan of—” “Future,” he cut me off. “Assert your feminism when I’m not three seconds away from fuckin’ you on your porch. I come to you, that’s gonna happen. You come to me, maybe it won’t.” Maybe? I didn’t ask that. I asked , “So if you get your way and I come to you, you can miraculously control your base instincts?” His reply? “One.” My body jerked and my brows shot together as the meaning of that word hit me. “Are you counting down—?” “Two.” I planted my hands on my hips. “You are!” I cried angrily. “You’re counting—” “Fuck it,” he muttered, took two long strides, and I was in his arms.””