That was Battle.
Or at least that was what he was to me.
It was after dinner.
Battle and I were just inside my bedroom, standing, wound together and going at each other like teenagers (again).
I was hot and bothered, I felt him hard and ready, pressed to my belly, and I could not wait to unveil that present.
His hair had to be a mess considering my fingers had run through it repeatedly.
He had a hand full of my ass, and dayum, it felt good there.
I was on the verge of dragging him to my bed when he cupped my jaw and pulled away.
I swam up from the fog of Battle’s kisses, opening my eyes just as he kissed the tip of my nose in a manner that was cute, but I wasn’t a big fan of it due to what I worried it meant.
“The minute I saw those freckles, I knew I was done,” he whispered.
Okay, I wasn’t going to get a penetrative orgasm from him first.
I was going to get a verbal one.
“Battle—”
“I go to the office early. We have a gym,” he said.
No!
“But I’ve planned to leave early so we can be on our way,” he concluded.
Hang on.
Was he going to leave me in this state?
“Battle—”
He touched his lips to mine, and there, he said, “Sleep well, sweetheart.”
Then he glided his hand from my ass so it became an arm around my waist, he gave me an affectionate squeeze, let me go and walked to my door.
I was right, his hair was a sexy mess.
God!
“Are you insane?” I whispered, half frustrated, half irate.
He turned and smiled a roguish smile at me.
God!
He was killing me.
“Not in the slightest,” he replied, knowing just what he was doing to me. “Have fun tomorrow.”
And then…
The lout!
