Page 38 of Martyr
“Strip poker?” she suggests.
Saint chokes.
She elbows him. “Come on. You never got your answer about Kade’s piercing.”
17ARTEMIS
I didn’t expectthe card shark to be Reese Avery. I glare at his three aces and two jacks. How does someone with such an innocent face harbor suchgoodcards? If he wasn’t shirtless—the shirt and his hoodie are the only items of clothing he’s lost so far—I’d accuse him of hiding cards up his sleeves.
We took a while to come to an agreement on the rules. The one with the best hand can either choose to put backona piece of clothing, or everyone who didn’t fold removes an item. Socks count individually.
I’m a little fuzzy around the edges of my thoughts because I’ve been drinking. I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules. Is getting drunk going to mess with my recovery? But also… I’d be going crazy if I had to survive this night sober. It’s bad enough that the craving for heroin has once more reared its ugly head. It occupies every other thought.
The only thing saving me is that no one has the drug here. I can’t beg or plead with Kade or Reese or, fuck, even Saint, to give me the syringe. I can’t slip out and go hunt down a drug dealer, because I’m pretty sure all three of them would murder me.
Reese and Kade from disappointment, and Saint just to get away from me.
“Well?” I grit out at Reese.
Saint folded early. He’s been sucking, though, and is down to one sock and his boxers.
Kade still has his jeans and shirt on, and most likely boxers or briefs underneath, but his sweatshirt and both socks are gone.
And me? Oh, I’m preserving my sanity the best I can in my sports bra and panties.
If I win, I’m one hundred percent putting on a sweatshirt. The fire roaring behind us has heated up the cabin, but I’m still chilled.
Reese smirks. “Lose an item, golden girl.”
I narrow my eyes.
Kade coughs, but he doesn’t seem to care abouthissituation. I mean, he lost with a freaking pair of sevens. Who stays in with a pair ofsevens? He’s still got a shirt to lose, too.
He rises, nonchalant, and unbuttons his jeans. When he lowers them, I gasp. He didn’t go for the obvious clothing choice—but worse: he’s not wearing boxersorbriefs.
The thick appendage that hangs between his legs is suddenly out, loud and proud. And,you’re welcome, Saint, pierced.
Reese laughs. “Damn, dude.”
Kade rolls his eyes and sits back down, but his gaze lingers on Saint. His shirt is loose enough to sort of cover him. I just need to stop staring between his legs. And stop staring in general. Or looking. Definitely should not be looking.
Kade Laurent is trouble. I’ve said that since day one.
I shrug out of my sports bra. I set it down beside me and resist the urge to cover my breasts. My nipples pebble, reacting to the cold.
We deal another hand.
“Want to make it more interesting, Hart?” Kade asks.
Saint lifts his shoulder. “What do you have in mind?”
“You lose tome, you lose two items of clothing. No folding.”
I gotta admit, seeing Saint’s tattooed cock next to Kade’s pierced one would be a mental image I’d like to hold on to forever. And use it for my spank bank until I die. My gaze bounces between them like I’m watching a tennis match. Saint considers his cards, then Kade’s face, and finally nods.
He leans forward, stretching his arm across the table, and shakes Kade’s hand.
Mycards suck. I toss them in, unwilling to part with my panties.
