For the first time in months, my hand slid low. Me and my hand in my lonely bed, in my lonely room, on this lonely night…wondering if a man was thinking of me and doing the same, twenty miles away.

His blue eyes were half-closed, lids looking heavy. Languid. Lips parted. If sex were a season, it had settled over him in full bloom.

He shrugged. "I'll pick my battles." He said it in a cocky, lazy way that implied those battles would most definitely be waged betwixt my spread thighs.