He was still in the same clothes.
And he had a thin, long, darkest dark-blue velvet jewelry box with him.
As I stared at that box, Battle stretched his long body out beside me in bed, still wearing his trousers, open shirt, bare feet…yum.
And he handed me the box.
“Battle,” I whispered, now only having eyes for him.
He reached out and flipped the box open.
I forced my gaze to what was inside.
Nestled in a bed of robin’s-egg-blue satin was a diamond tennis bracelet, set in white gold.
The diamonds weren’t ostentatiously huge, it was a classy piece, albeit it could never be described as lowkey, because even if the diamonds weren’t large, it was a tennis bracelet, so there were a lot of them.
But…fucking hell.
“Baby,” I said.
“I’ve noticed you don’t have enough jewelry,” he stated.
Annnnnd…
Yes.
A tear slid down my cheek.
“Your diamond earrings are set in white gold too,” he remarked.
Of course he noticed.
Of course.
He slipped a thumb over the trail of my tear. “Don’t cry, Vivienne.”
“My mom bought me those earrings.”
His face gentled, and he cupped my jaw. “Sweetheart.”
“Now I can have her at my ears and you at my wrist.”
He took that wrist and kissed the skin on the inside, then he moved his hand to the back of my neck and pulled me to his mouth.
We kissed, wet and sweet, before he ended it, and I asked, “Will you put it on?”
He didn’t reply, except to take the box from me, pull the bracelet from its bed of satin, casually toss the box on my nightstand, and when I offered my wrist, he bested the fiddly clasp with a few flicks of his thumb and there it was.
Flashing brilliant, rich and meaningful.
Battle on my wrist.
“I take it you like it,” he murmured.
I shifted my gaze from the bracelet to him. “It’s beautiful.”
“I suppose we’re making progress that you didn’t throw it in my face,” he quipped.
