Those three little words, she knew from having seen the film roughly a dozen times, meant three other little words, and even knowing how he felt, the allusion dropped her figurative knees out from under her.

I love you, too.

"Fetch me that glass of water, farm boy," she murmured, not entirely sure he'd recognize the allusion. But she needed him to stop playing with their food for a minute and come where she could feel his skin under her hands. The lust hadn't bled out her eyes or the pit of her stomach. It had just taken a momentary backseat to the flutters of love that kept her inner Bitch in check.