I lay before him, on display, feeling beautiful, feeling powerful, feeling loved, under the open warmth and affection that he had written all over his handsome face.
I wasn’t sure which expression I liked better.
Thankfully, I got both.
What I did know in that moment was, unless something wild and unforeseen happened, I was going to be the next Duchess of Burleigh.
I wasn’t the candidate.
As ludicrous as it seemed, from the moment I walked into this house, it claimed me.
And from the moment I laid eyes on this man, he did.
Naturally, this made me deliriously happy.
He fell forward onto his hands at my sides, did the downward part of the pushup and brushed his lips against mine.
“Best lasagna I’ve ever tasted, darling,” he said there.
Oh yeah.
I’d made it for him.
And oh yeah.
He’d liked it.
Also yeah.
So did all the girls.
And the last yeah, and maybe the best part, after we ate it, Battle came downstairs and helped me clean the kitchen.
Straight up, as crazy as it sounded, of the many things that made him insanely attractive, watching him dry a plate was one of them.
“I have to shower and go,” he murmured.
I frowned and wrapped my arms around him.
“Keep me with you today,” he said.
I didn’t get that.
“Pardon?”
He tensed his hips between mine, forcing my lips to part, because that felt so good.
“Don’t wash me away.”
One could say this was a turnabout from our condom discussion.
“Can you go back to sleep with me slipping out?” he asked.
Right.
Was I weird?
Why was this convo turning me on again?
