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Aside from Elsa, I’d never spent the night with the women I’d slept with, so spending the night without the sex would be a worse idea.
This complicated things.
I didn’t do complicated.
But it was late, and I was tired, so I kicked off my shoes, tossed off my suit jacket, unbuttoned my shirt and slipped it off my torso, and slid my slacks down my legs.
She peeked an eye open, her eyes widening as she took in my tattoos, eyeing the one with Everett’s name beneath my ribcage.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting in bed with you. Do you expect me to sleep on that couch?”
“It pops out into a bed.”
“If your bed mattress is this shitty, your couch mattress will be worse.”
“Blame my shitty salary.”
“Your ‘shitty salary’ is double what any other bartender in the city would make. Not to mention the tips you make as the most attractive bartender on the staff.”
“You think I’m attractive?”
“I fucked your mouth, slid my fingers up your ass, and had my Prince Albert pressed against your G-spot. What do you think?”
I slid under the sheets, reached out, and pulled her closer, so her body pressed entirely against mine.
“What? I—” She let out an alarmed breath, but I buried my face in her neck and closed my eyes, because fuck it.
If I was doing this, I was doing this the way I wanted to.
I pressed my lips to the delicate skin at the back of her neck.
“Shut up and sleep.”
For once, she listened to me, relaxing against my chest without any protest.
I told myself it meant nothing.
I may have told Ari I wasn’t a liar, but I’d left out one thing.
I was good at lying to myself.
Chapter
Twenty-One
If I were to remain silent, I’d be guilty of complicity.
ALBERT EINSTEIN
ARIANA DE LUCA
“You ready for Asher’s wedding?” Gio rapped his table as Bastian walked past it and gestured for him to come over.
I ran a rag over the bar’s countertop as Bastian approached them, my eyes down on the table but my ears perked and ready for intel.
Intel.
