Page 54 of Blackbeard
“Better?” he grumbled into the dark.
I smiled.
“Well, you could be spooning me—”
“Don’t push your luck.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from laughing. Rolling over to face him, I kissed his shoulder. His bare skin was warm beneath my lips. I wiggled as close as I dared to without sending him running for that damn couch again.
And within seconds, I was fast asleep.
Chapter thirteen
Blackbeard
“Earth to Blackbeard.”
I glanced up, pulled out of my reverie by Big G’s voice. He sat across the table from me and lifted his hand in a wave with a smug little smile.
“It’s nice to see you joined the land of the living like the rest of us, brother. You looked like you were a thousand miles away. Were you daydreaming about rushing home to your wife?”
I huffed and stretched my legs out.
For the past week, I had slept like a baby next to Leigh in the same bed. Which surprised the hell out of me.
She didn’t cop a feel, even though I wore nothing but my boxers. She didn’t sleep naked, hoping to tempt me. In fact, she didn’t try…anything.
And secretly, I was grateful, because spending my nights on that couch was killing my lower back.
Now, I waited in Church with the rest of my club for our monthly scheduled meeting to start. Everyone was accounted for, except for Spike who was running ten minutes late.
“Actually,” I replied to Big G. “I was thinking that I could use some extra cash. Care to join me in another round of poker?”
His smile vanished, leaning back in his chair.
“My wallet hasn’t recovered from our last game. Or the game before that.”
I chuckled.
Footsteps echoed in the hall. Then Spike veered around the corner, tugging a sleeveless T-shirt over his head and buckling his belt.
“About damn time,” Gatling grumbled.
“Can’t blame me, brother,” Spike quipped, dropping into the last empty chair beside him. “If you weren’t such an antisocial hermit, you would understand how difficult it is to tear yourself out of the arms of a club bunny. Or two. Or three.”
Gatling rolled his eyes and sighed.
“Are you allergic to committed relationships?”
Spike snorted.
“I’m surprised you even know what those words mean. Weren’t you some folklore cryptid in your little backwater Virginia hometown because you fucked off into the woods for months at a time?”
Gatling clenched his jaw and his sharp blue eyes went icy cold. Kingpin noticed the rising tension and grabbed his gavel, bringing the meeting to order.
“Be civil, boys,” he warned. “No bloodshed in Church.”
Before Kingpin could continue, a series of buzzing sounds emanated from the basket on the end table by the door.
