“How about I go down and scramble some eggs and make some non-burnt toast?” I offered.
“How long will that take?” he asked curiously.
He was cute.
“Maybe fifteen minutes. With walking there and back time, maybe twenty-five.”
He smiled at me and moved from the bed, saying, “No. It’s croissants.”
I wasn’t going to object.
Though, as I watched the muscles of his back bunch and flex while he walked to the door, I called, “Hurry.”
He shot me a smug look before he opened the door.
“That means fast, Battle.”
He shook his head and disappeared.
I sank into his big, comfy bed and smiled to myself.
Then I took another sip of super strong coffee, set it aside and reached for a grapefruit half.
We’d just done it again, and miracle of miracles, Mr. Control the Proceedings let me be on top.
Battle was a cuddler after, which made me rejoice, because I was too.
And that was what we were doing.
Cuddling.
Though, it was sexy cuddling, because we were naked, and most of his “cuddles” involved drawing random patterns on my ass.
“I’ll return,” he whispered, slid me off him, got out of bed and went to the bathroom.
I pulled the duvet up the front of my body and wrapped my limbs round it, waiting for his return.
He didn’t take long, and when he came back, he tugged the bedclothes from my grip and positioned us as we were before he left me.
“I see your point about the prophylactics,” he muttered after he had me where he wanted me.
Aw.
He didn’t want to leave me.
“Still your call,” I said.
“We’ll see.”
His fingers went back to drawing.
I rested my cheek on his shoulder and let them.
Eventually, he wrapped his arms around me and just held me.
Was there ever a better Saturday?
No.
