Battle Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 3)

“About what?”

“The hot flushes and moodiness. It’s the damn drugs.” A thought crosses my mind. One I don’t like. “Do you think I overreacted to Juanita?”

“I agree that taking time off with no notice isn’t acceptable,” she says, choosing her words carefully. I know she is because she’s speaking slowly in the way she does when she’s trying to be delicate with me. “I wonder if there was room to explore all the options a little more fully, though. But you’re the boss down there, Birdie, and I don’t know everything that was said, so—”

I cut her off because she’s being too delicate now. “Don’t sugar-coat it for me, Cleo. That’s not how we run things. I can agree with you that if this had happened any other time, I may have explored our options more. Ugh. Should I call her back and apologise?” Jesus, I’m not usually this indecisive when it comes to business and team stuff. It’s the one area in my life where I feel super confident with my decisions.

“Do you still want to work with her? Is she normally more reliable?”

I don’t have to think about that too hard. “No, this is probably a good time to cut ties when you put it that way.” I sigh loudly, giving a voice to my frustrations. “But I have to admit that if this is how I handle work issues after less than one week on these drugs, I’m a little concerned for the business going forward. Maybe you should take over managing the team down here for a while.”

“Birdie, no.” Gone is her delicate tone and in its place is her fierce, supportive tone. “This was one hiccup. Don’t let it freak you out. And like you said, working with Juanita wasn’t so great anyway. Maybe you actually did yourself a favour by being blunt with her. You’ve got this, babe.”

“I love you.”

“I know. Now tell me, where’s Winter? I thought you guys were spending the day together.”

“He ended up having some club stuff to take care of. I’m hoping he’ll be home soon because the movie we want to see only has one more session today, and that’s in an hour. How’s your day going?”

She fills me in on her day, and we chat for another ten minutes before ending the call. Talking with her was exactly what I needed; I don’t feel anywhere near as angry as I did before. Plus, she helped me realise I’m experiencing side effects from the fertility drugs. I’m not sure how I didn’t put that together earlier.

Deciding I need a cool cloth for my face, I head into the bathroom and locate one. Wetting it, I press it to my warm skin and feel some relief. I don’t even care that it’ll ruin my make-up. I’m so damn hot I could do with sticking my head into a bucket of ice cubes.

A bath. That’s what I need.

God knows how long Winter will be. Surely I can squeeze a quick one in.

Stripping, I run a bath and sink into the cool water, savouring the reprieve it offers.

I may just move into this bath.

Live in here all day every day.

Resting my head back, I close my eyes. Many minutes pass, maybe fifteen, while I allow my body to relax and my mind to drift. I’m four injections into this IVF journey and I’ve barely relaxed since I started. It hasn’t helped that I’ve also been on high alert with Winter since he came home and stitched himself up. At times, my mind races with all the possible ways he could be hurt while out doing club work. I’m thankful he saw the doctor and had his wound properly looked after. I’m also thankful it appears to be healing well; however, I worry about him daily. I know I need to stop imagining things that may never happen, but I’m having trouble doing that.

“What are you thinking?” Winter’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and I blink my eyes open to find him resting against the doorjamb, arms folded, watching me. How I didn’t hear him come home is beyond me.

“How do you know I’m thinking? I might just be lying here without a thought in the world.”

The corners of his mouth lift as a smile settles in place. “Angel, you’re never not thinking.”

I run my gaze down his body. Winter has always been good-looking, but every year enhances those good looks. My belly flutters as I take in his muscles that are defined by the black tee and fitted jeans he’s wearing. The ink covering his body—almost every inch of it—also turns me on. Not to mention his beard and dark blond hair that he’s grown out a little. He’s pulled it back today, but a few pieces have fallen out. I want to run my finger down his face and brush those pieces behind his ear.

Needing to touch him, I stand and leave the bath. I move so quickly, without bothering to dry myself, that he’s caught off guard. There’s surprise in his eyes as I wrap my arms around his body, but also pleasure. I hear it in his voice, too, as his hands land on my ass and he murmurs, “Fuck, coming home is always the best part of my day.”

Since we had sex after he came home wounded, we’ve had sex every day, sometimes twice. I’ve done enough research on IVF to know that for many couples, sex can become a casualty of the journey, but I can’t imagine not wanting to be with Winter, and today, that desire is heightened. I woke up reaching for him, and I want him again. And even though his wound is still healing, he doesn’t allow that to stop him when it comes to sex.

Looking up into his eyes, I say, “I don’t want to go to the movies anymore.”

“No?”

I move my hands to his belt. “No. I want you to spend this afternoon fucking me. And then I want you to order dinner in so we can watch a movie on the couch before you fuck me again.”

Heat is a living, breathing thing in his eyes as he takes in what I’ve said, and when he moves into action, lifting me over his shoulder and carrying me into our bedroom, that heat vibrates from him.

Placing me on the bed, he strips, not taking his eyes off me once. They roam my body, lingering on the parts he loves the most, blazing lust along every inch of my skin.

Once he’s naked, he reaches for my ankles and bends my legs up as he kneels on the bed. “You been thinking about my tongue this morning, angel