Page 83 of Relapse

Noir’s arm tightens lazily around my waist while his mouth brushes slow against the side of my head.

“Pretty sure we already settled who the competition is,” he mutters roughly. “But I’m down to remind you again if your memory’s still fucked, little addict.”

Heat crawls instantly up my throat at the tone alone.

Dagger drops the takeout bags onto the counter harder than necessary.

“Yeah,” he says flatly, “that’s enough of whatever the fuck this is.”

I grin immediately.

Oh, he’s annoyed annoyed.

Interesting.

Noir doesn’t even look remotely sorry either, stretched out shirtless behind me on Dagger’s couch looking smug enough to qualify as a personality disorder.

“Relax,” I mumble toward the kitchen. “You should be happy. We resolved the sexual tension.”

Dagger points at both of us while unpacking coffee.

“No more talking about anybody getting fucked before breakfast.”

“Wow,” I say softly. “Oppressive.”

“And you, put your shrimp dick back in your pants before I take the pancakes back.”

Noir actually laughs quietly behind me.

“Threatening me with breakfast now?”

“I’m serious.”

“That’s fair,” I admit. “I’d fold too.”

I finally sit up slowly beneath the blankets, Noir’s shirt slipping lower off my shoulder while cool air brushes over my skin. Dagger’s eyes drag over my body, then land on Noir.

“Couldn’t even wait half a day?”

Noir doesn’t look remotely guilty.

“She was bored.”

“Your point?”

Dagger snorts quietly under his breath while unpacking breakfast containers onto the counter, shaking his head like both of us are personally exhausting him.

Noir eventually slips off the couch and heads out toward the balcony to smoke, shirtless and smug while cold ocean air immediately drifts through the cracked door behind him.

The apartment settles into something strangely normal after that.

Or at least whatever deeply dysfunctional version of normal the three of us accidentally became overnight.

Rain tapping steadily against the windows.

Smoke curling slowly through the apartment from the balcony.

Dagger hovering around the kitchen pretending he’s not checking where I am every thirty seconds.