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Knox laughs too, halfway through demolishing a plate of eggs and bacon. “I don’t think she’s too broken up about it.” He eyes me, and his gaze is hot enough to leave a lingering burn.
I just look back at him, a little smile playing around the corners of my mouth. Usually, I wouldn’t let a guy know how much he rocked my world after we fucked. Mostly because it’s never happened before, but telling them they’re the best at sex just gives them a big head. That’s only useful if I want them to be distracted by their ego and not thinking about why I might really have been there.
But with Knox, it’s different again. We were both down there in that room, and there was no acting on my part. All the noises of pleasure were real, and he knows it.
So instead, I just wink at him, hoping it’ll piss Gage or Priest off even more.
“What happened to the fucker you had downstairs?” I ask Knox. “Is he dead?”
“Nah,” he replies through a mouthful of eggs. He scrubs at the scruff on his jaw with one hand, his dark eyes gleaming. “Catch and release. Just a warning.”
“A good warning. He won’t be fucking around with anyone else with that memory in his mind.”
He grins at me and returns my wink. “You get it.”
Idoget it, and I wonder if it pisses the others off to know that Knox was telling me their business like that. Whatever. It was happening in their house, the one they’re making me stay in, so I was bound to find out eventually.
I walk around the table to make my own toast, loading four slices into the toaster and setting the toast level the way I want it before pushing down on the lever. The hum of the toaster and the smell of warm bread fill the kitchen, and I go to rummage in their fridge for butter and jam.
When I have everything I want lined up on the counter, I look back to the guys, watching them as they finish up their breakfasts.
Ash has a deck of cards in his hand, and he goes from shuffling them in the most show off-y way possible, to flipping single cards in his hand with a speed that’s almost impossible to follow.
“What’s with the cards?” I ask him, curious.
He grins that rakish grin at me and flips a card in his hand, letting me see it’s the queen of hearts.
I roll my eyes at that.
“You wanna see a trick?” he asks, crooking a finger at me.
“Why not?” I reply and move over to the table.
He spreads out five cards in front of me on the table and tells me to pick one.
“How do I know you don’t already know what they all are?”
With another grin, he gathers them all up and makes a show of shuffling for a good thirty seconds. “Alright, Ms. Skeptic. You spread them out. Don’t let me see them.”
I do so, picking two cards from the top and three from the middle and putting them on the table.
“Okay, now pick one,” he says.
I go for the second to the end on the right-hand side, and to my surprise, it’s the queen of hearts again.
“Put that one in the middle and put them all back in the deck,” Ash says, and I do it, handing the deck back to him.
He does more flashy shuffling, the cards moving between his hands almost like they’re formless. Like water. Ash doesn’t drop a single one, and he does it without ever looking away from me, all muscle memory and reflex at this point, clearly.
When he’s finished, he lays five cards out again, end to end.
“Pick one,” he says, nodding at them.
I go for the last one on the left.
Queen of hearts again.
“Is that your card?” he asks, grinning brightly.
