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Their eyes widened with surprise. “That fucker better not have been able to see your—”
I wave Emmett off, shaking my head. “No, he had him turned away. But I didn’t fucking know. He just wanted the guy to hear me cry for his dick.”
It should be weird as hell talking about fucking someone else to two other guys I’m also getting dirty with, but it’s surprisingly… therapeutic. As much as Emily is my best friend, a thing I never thought I would have, this feels too intimate to discuss with her, especially when one of the four guys that are tearing at my heart is her brother.
“Fuck that, my high-five just turned into one with his face because I’m jealous as shit,” Gray grumbles, pressing his lips to my cheek with a grin.
My eyes narrow, but they seem too impressed with Ryker’s moves to see my side.
Assholes.
Pursing my lips, I look at the folder spread out on the table and my heart stops. “What’s this?”
Gray clears his throat, running his free hand over the sheets. “These are some of the ideas Emmett was showing me for if we get a matching tattoo, Sweet Cheeks.”
My heart races in my chest. My gut told me that was the reason, and I thought it would make me nervous, but it’s excitement pooling in my stomach. “They’re all stunning,” I reply, glancing over the array of tattoo designs before us.
“Maybe you should let Scarlett choose which one she loves the most for you to get first, then if she ever decides to get it too, you know she likes it,” Emmett offers, a soft smile on his lips as he combs over his beard.
“What do you say?” Gray asks, lips brushing against my ear.
I lean out of his hold a little, balancing over the table more to get a better view. There’s a pocket watch tattoo, roses, skulls, guns, everything, but my eyes keep being drawn to the one in the far left corner.
“I think this one is perfect.” My heart seems to leap faster in my chest as I point it out.
“I think you have excellent taste, Snowflake, because we’ve been going back to that one every time,” Emmett admits.
“Hey, Scarlett, don’t make me come over there and cause a scene. You promised me,” Emily hollers from the bar where she’s chatting with Maggie and Shift. I feel every pair of eyes in the room cast our way. From the Ruthless Bitches in the corner to the prospects scattered around the room.
“You already did,” Emmett grumbles, throwing a dirty look his sister's way.
Shit, when have I ever laughed this much?
I’m in just as much danger now as I ever have been, yet there are still moments where it all drifts away and I’m just your everyday girl with fun, laughter, and hope.
It’s because of them.
“The boss called,” I murmur, tilting my head to face Gray. I press my lips to his, warmth zapping through my veins at his touch, and he groans against my mouth.
“I may have to call dibs on you soon, Sweet Cheeks.”
I nod before leaning over the space toward Emmett, but before I lay claim to his mouth in front of everyone, I move toward his ear. I murmur as quietly as I can so Gray can’t hear, waiting for a nod in agreement before he grabs the back of my head and takes my lips.
Fuck.
When he pulls away, I’m dizzy. Every step I take away from them feels like walking on clouds and I love it. As I reach Emily, who now stands at the door leading to the back of the compound, I glance back over my shoulder to see them still watching me.
Damn, my heart is full.
* * *
The end creditsroll on the third movie of the night as Emily yawns from her spot on the bed. Books are spread out all around us, random sheets of paper, and our laptops. Along with empty bags of chips, candy wrappers, and chocolate bars.
Tonight was way more chill than I expected, and when she sat and started explaining things to me, everything seemed to make more sense. Once she had touched base on everything, our attention shifted to my inadequate reading and writing. Which is such a lie, I feel fucking proud of myself. My growth from the very first time she sat down with me is clear. My handwriting is still a little shaky, but that’s more from nerves. I’m never this nervous when I have a gun in my hand. Maybe next session, I hold a pistol in one hand and the pen in the other and see what results I get then.
Reading is completely different, but the progress is coming. I make a mental note to download the Kindle app she told me about, to try and read some books in my spare time too. Not that there’s much going spare, but I want to push this. It’s important.
I feel normal despite the situation we’re in. There should be guilt clawing at my insides for not staying alert and figuring out the enemy’s next move, but instead, I feel… safe, protected, at home.
