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"No, it isn’t," I retorted, unable to stop myself from chuckling because he was such a fucking pain in the ass.
Conor frowned at me. "Did you just laugh? Jesus, is that all it took? An orgasm?"
I blinked. "What?"
He wafted a hand. "I heard you two fucking like two goddamn screeching cats earlier. Do you mean you haven’t had sex since the drive-by shooting?"
"If you hear us fucking again, turn your goddamn music up. Don’t listen in, perv," I snapped, irritation buzzing in my ears like turbocharged white noise.
"I wasn’t listening in," he argued. "I heard you overnoxxious, Aidan. Christ."
"Well, turn the volume up more," I snarled. Even her sounds of pleasure belonged to me. No fucker else. Certainly not Kid.
"Okay, I’ll just rupture my goddamn ear drums because you can’t keep it down." He released a scoffing sound. "Although… if she keeps you smiling, I’ll let her clean your pipes out regularly and will make my ears bleed for the cause."
I growled under my breath. "I made you a promise a long time ago, Conor, that I wouldn’t beat the shit out of you ever again. No matter how annoying you were. Well, you’ve reached that point so I’d walk away if I were you."
He squinted at me. "You really are weird about her, huh? I was only joking about the penguin shit last night."
My mouth tightened. "You’re not making this any better."
Conor shrugged but took a wary step back, as if he sensed I wasn’t pissing around—Kid’s brain finally decided to kick in. "You should probably get that seen to."
"What seen to?" I rumbled, my hands tightening about the handles of the bags I was carrying. They started creaking—thick leather straps began creaking as they bit into my flesh because of how hard I was clenching down on them.
"The fact you’re possessive enough about her to be jealous of me, to be jealous that I heard her like that. Throw in the fact she can make you smile, maybe she’s what you need to get over the Oxy."
I scowled at him. "That’s so unhealthy."
He hitched his shoulder again. "Whatever gets you through the day, Aidan. Our world ain’t like another person’s, is it?
"If it were, you’d be tucked away in some fancy rehab facility, drinking virgin piña coladas at the side of an indoor pool while you talked about your feelings and how your daddy fucked you up when you were little.
"Instead, we’re dick deep in a war with a secret society and you had to detox in my living room in a blanket fort. Take the wins as they come," he intoned, arching a brow at me as I scowled at him even harder than before.
Not that he let me have the last word. Fucker never did.
He sauntered off, retreating to his office, leaving me in the hall with all of Savannah’s stuff.
Technically, I had two choices.
Take her things to the room I’d given her last night, or to mine.
But I’d already made the decision when she was weeping in my arms—my room it was.
