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FIGHTING OVER ME

2 / 3

Round 2

S. Cane

Cover: Giada Armani

Berlinable invites you to leave all your fears behind and dive into a world where sex is a tool for self-empowerment.

Our mission is to change the world - one soul at a time.

When people accept their own sexuality, they build a more tolerant society.

Words to inspire, to encourage, to transform.

Open your mind and free your deepest desires.

All rights reserved. It is not permitted to copy, distribute or otherwise publish the content of this eBook without the express permission of the publisher. Subject to changes, typographical errors and spelling errors. The plot and the characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to dead or living people or public figures is not intended and are purely coincidental.

I was too exhausted to really care on the night of, but when I woke up in the morning, all I could feel was the pleasantly seedy sensation of being covered in sweat and the funk of lovemaking. AJ, by then, had gotten up and I thought I could hear her tooling around in the kitchen. I’d grown up with five siblings, so I had a pretty good sense for the different sounds of people. Marta, I thought, would still be sleeping—a look at my watch on the coffee table said it was only 7 AM, and I knew how people liked to sleep in on vacation.

I got up, cracking the stiffness out of my joints—if there was one thing worse on the back than sleeping on a couch, it was sleeping on a couch while being someone’s cuddle bunny—and went to the kitchen. It was walled off from the rest of the apartment, with a service window on top of a counter like the place had once been a diner or something. I opened it up and saw AJ. She was wearing a bit of red lingerie that looked nicely illegal. I was pretty sure she hadn’t been wearing that the night before. The notion that AJ would dress up in some naughty underwear just to do a big ‘wearing nothing but my underwear in the morning’ scene seemed to fit with what I knew of her. She was standing in front of the microwave, watching as what smelled like oatmeal got the Manhattan Project treatment.

“Morning,” I said.

She turned around with an actorly bit of business meant to evince surprise and a bit of nervousness at being caught in her underwear. I wasn’t quite convinced. AJ wore that shit like she was ready to tango with a stripper pole.