He looked at my grin for half a beat before he kissed me.
At this point, Greystoke had no choice but to vamoose, because thus commenced round two.
At least I got to meet the wee fur baby and get a little cuddle in.
But I would only think about that after Battle redemonstrated one of the very not sucky parts about him.
His unending creativity in finding ways to give me orgasms.
And to make me feel beautiful, precious and adored while he did it.
CHAPTER 23
THE CLEANSING
It happened when I was headed from Battle’s room, a place he’d left fifteen minutes ago because he had a text that sent him to his laptop in his study.
I was going down for cocktails.
I had a pep in my step (for obvious reasons—spending a late afternoon in bed with Battle talking deep shit and making love was the perfect afternoon activity, says me) and was nearing the bend of the hall of the south wing, when it happened.
Soot dashed from out of nowhere, tripping me.
I was about to right myself before Floofy was there, sending me careening in the other direction, tag teaming with Greystoke, who came from the other side to keep me going in that direction.
After that came Baby Blue, Snowball and Gingerface, and since I couldn’t keep my feet under me, there was nothing for it.
I tipped over, my hands hitting a door that wasn’t quite closed.
It flew open and I fell into the room on my hands and knees.
The cats scattered.
I shifted to a hip and waved out my wrists because both hurt like fuck from landing on them.
For a second, I was out of it, discombobulated from the fall.
Then I looked around the room I was in, one I hadn’t been in before, but I knew it was Chassie’s.
A study in pinks, not like mine—softer, paler, more feminine, but not girlie.
There were lots of flowers in vases, and her straw hat was on the bed.
She wasn’t there, thank goodness.
But I was freaking.
It was not an unknown occurrence to trip over a cat.
In fact, if you had cats, you knew it was commonplace. We’d had cats all through growing up. I’d been tripped countless times.
So yeah.
I knew it was commonplace.
As such, the night I tripped over Snowball and into Battle’s arms didn’t seem weird to me at the time.
Tripping over Baby Blue getting out of the shower wasn’t weird either. Cats had fascinations with bathrooms. And Baby Blue had an attachment to Battle. Not to mention, every female of any species (also says me) would have an attachment to Battle when he was naked.
