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Max turned away, his shoulders still slumped with disappointment.
“Every time I leave, it kills her.” Bones continued on, his voice quieter than before. “I can’t keep doing that to her, especially when I don’t need the money. I’ve lived my life without her…and we both know how that turned out.”
Max turned his gaze back to Bones, and there was a look of sympathy.
I wondered what he was referring to.
“Think about it for a little while,” Max said. “Even if you decide to leave, I need you for a few more things. You can’t bail before then.”
After a long pause, Bones finally nodded in agreement. “That’s fine.”
Max patted him on the back. “How’s the pain?”
“There is no pain.”
He nodded to Bones’s shoulder. “I meant the gunshot wound.”
“Like I said, no pain.”
Max gave him an incredulous look, like he couldn’t believe a word he said. “It’s okay to feel pain, man. I know you’ve been shot a lot, but it’s normal for it to hurt like a bitch.”
He shook his head slightly. “Vanessa is my painkiller. And she’s potent.”
After Max left, I returned to the living room, pretending I just woke up.
Bones was on the couch, a bottle of scotch sitting next to his glass. His knees were wide apart, and his chiseled torso still looked tight even when he was relaxed. He turned his head slightly my way, barely greeting me. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine. Until you fucked me until I woke up.”
He turned back to the TV. “Are you complaining?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and regarded him, just wearing one of his big t-shirts. “No. And I slept well when I went back to sleep the second time.”
“Are you disappointed I didn’t wake you up the same way?” He turned to me, the corner of his mouth raised in a smile. His arrogance was the same as it’d always been. He loved to be a smartass, to get a rise out of me whenever possible.
I looked at the bottle of scotch on the table. “You’re drinking too much.”
“No, I’m not.”
“It’s eleven in the morning.”
“And I usually start drinking at nine. So there’s been an improvement.”
I walked to the coffee table and grabbed the half-empty bottle. “I don’t care about your drinking. But you’re still on medication, so you shouldn’t be drinking alcohol at all.”
“I’ve been shot at thirteen times before this.” He turned his gaze back to the TV. “And I was never on medication any other time. So, trust me, the scotch is fine.”
“No, it’s not.” I confiscated the bottle and the glass and carried it back to the kitchen.
He didn’t turn around to look at me.
“No more drinking for a few weeks.”
He still didn’t make a protest.
I walked back to the couch, suspicious of his silence. I stopped at his knee and stared down at him, his t-shirt as big as a blanket around my slender body.
After a minute of silence, he grabbed my wrist and tugged me into his lap. He pulled my leg over his waist and forced me to straddle him. When he pressed his hips upward, I could feel the definition of his big cock against me.
“I thought you were mad at me, not turned on.”
“Who says I’m not?” His hand moved into the back of my hair, and he fisted it, getting the perfect grip so I couldn’t get away. “When I’ve been most furious with you is when I’ve wanted you the most.” He pressed his face close to mine, his other hand pressing on my lower back so he could force my clit against his shaft. “I’m sure you can think of when…”
When I shot him in the snow.
“I’ll drink when I feel like drinking. You can put my booze away, but that won’t stop me. I’ll fuck you exactly when I feel like it, even if you’re asleep. I will do as I damn well please—so don’t waste your time.”
I cocked my head to the side, challenging him with my narrowed eyes. “Really?”
He rubbed his nose against mine. “Really.”
“I’m supposed to be the one to take care of you. He said no booze—so no booze.”
“Trust me, I can handle it.”
“You only think you can handle it.”
He tugged on my hair, gaining dominance. “I know exactly what I can handle, baby. A few glasses a day is nothing compared to how much I used to drink when you were gone. I know my limits because I’ve broken my limits. I learned the consequences of my actions the hard way…so let it go.”
My hands glided down his chest as my eyes remained focused on his. I thought about his conversation with Max and the subtle words they shared. Something told me they were related. “What happened?”
He stared at me, his eyes stubborn. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
He pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth then along my jawline. Slowly, he moved, brushing past my ear and then down my neck. His kisses turned more aggressive once he reached the hollow of my throat. He swiped his tongue across my skin as he fisted my hair harder. He distracted me with his embrace—and I wasn’t ashamed to admit it worked. “I think your pussy needs more come.”
