AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Forty-Three
Savannah
I bitmy lip as I watched Aidan from the corner of my eye.
He wasn’t playing poker with us, but he was off to the side, his bad leg stretched out, his good one propped up on the coffee table in front of him.
He didn’t look indecent.
I mean, he looked hot like always. But indecent, nope. Not to anyone else in the room. Not to anyone who didn’t see what he was doing with the hole in his jeans and two fingers.
It had started with him tracing that hole with the tips, going around and around like it was absentminded as he read something on his phone.
Then, I’d taken twenty grand from Eoghan with a royal flush that he’d been bitching about even when Inessa had hauled him up to bed. I was left playing with Brennan and Declan who, interestingly enough, the drunker they got, grew more alert and more nostalgic.
"Remember that time O’Leary nearly got decapitated?"
Magic words that ordinarily would have pricked my curiosity, until Aidan tilted his wrist, and thrust those two fingers into the hole as if it were my pussy.
My sex clenched at the sight, and I glowered at him, then did so harder when I saw he wasn’t even looking at me. Was just tormenting me for the fun of it.
"When he got that piano wire tangled around his neck?" Brennan cackled. "I remember that. How did he die again?"
"Not by decapitation," Aidan inserted wryly.
Declan started to twist around, looping his arm over the chair’s backrest before Brennan muttered, "I fold." That drew his attention away from Aidan, and the finger fucking he was giving a slit in his jeans.
"It’s just you and me," I told Declan calmly, feeling my cheeks starting to turn pink as I kept darting glances at Aidan.
I knew he had an ace of spades and a five of diamonds, whereas I had two tens, a club and a diamond. Technically, I was always going to win, but he didn’t have to know that, did he?
"You sure you ain’t stacking the deck?" Brennan rumbled, the ice in his glass tinkling as he waggled it at me.
Grinning at him, I murmured, "Always the sign of a sore loser. What is it, Brennan? Pissed that a girl beat you?"
He narrowed his eyes at me, before he replied, "Being beaten by a girl is pretty hot, actually."
Aidan’s head whipped up. "Brennan!" he snarled. "Watch your fucking mouth."
My grin widened.
Brennan just rolled his eyes. "I meant figuratively, Aidan. I’m not jonesing for your woman. I got my own." He smacked his lips. "She’ll bite your dick off if you so much as look at her wrong," he declared proudly.
My eyes bugged at him, because for all they were being expressive tonight, that was a whole other kind of admission. "Camille bit someone’s dick off?" No wonder she’d smiled when I’d told her how good it felt to punch Wintersen in the junk.
Wow.
Brennan smirked. "Sure did. Clean off." Then he scowled at me. "If you go to the cops, I’ll slice your—"
"Brennan," Declan rumbled, "you got a death wish, my man? Aidan’s probably fingering his knife right as we speak."
Well, if we were going to get technical, Aidan was fingering his jeans. Not his knife.
The second eldest, well, the official second eldest—yikes, that wasn’t going to get confusing, was it?—just scoffed as he scraped back his chair and clambered to his feet. "I got better places to be."
"Horizontal and with the missus?" Declan hummed. "Not a bad idea." He squinted at his cards, squinted at me, then grumbled, "I fold too."
I knew my grin beamed at him, because he blinked like I’d shone a light in his eyes. As Brennan called out, "Night, fuckers," Declan leaned forward and wagged his finger in my face.
