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It was a phone. Strong hands moved her, and she smiled up at Hannibal. He winked at her and pulled a phone out from somewhere. She scowled at him. Why was he answering a phone call now?
“Hey Brother, what’s up?”
She pouted. “Who are you talking to?” Her words were slurred and slow. She didn’t really care, so she closed her eyes and put her head against Hannibal’s chest.
“It’s Ink,Mon cœur.”
Hannibal’s voice sounded even better, rumbling through his chest into her ear. “Oh, say hi for me.” Jade snuggled down, wanting to float through the wonderful sensations running through her body.
“All right, I’ve got some things to finish up here, then I’ll be home.”
His words splashed cold water onto the blissful cuddling session they were having. That was right. She needed to get up and go. She had to go to her home, and he had to go to his. She wasn’t ready to move yet, but she would have to.
“How are you feeling?” Hannibal asked.
“Good, amazing, wonderful, and all those other words.”
He chuckled. “That’s good to hear.”
Jade sat up, enjoying the ache of her body. The twinges of pain helped to clear her head. He wasn’t inviting her to stay longer. She should go.
There were a whole host of problems that she had to deal with back at her own home. Responsibilities she should take care of, the gym to run, everything like that. It was tempting to sit here and lose herself in this man’s arms forever. It was perfect.
Well, not perfect. Perfect would be if Ink were here to rub her feet. But he wasn’t, and it was time to go before she overstayed her welcome.
Chapter 13
Your best friend will always pick you up after you fall… after they finish laughing.
Ink
There is no sound so satisfying as the crack of the whip echoing in the evening air. Ink gripped the familiar leather handle of his favorite six-foot, eight-plait bullwhip and forced his body to settle. Accuracy was his goal tonight. Hitting a small target every time. He narrowed his focus down to the clothespins that were arranged on lines around him.
Ink inhaled slowly. Exercise like this had become almost a ritual to him. The weekly practice was a large part of his life for almost a decade now. He took one last mental run through of what he had planned, then moved.
He exploded into action, moving through the targets. The clothespins flew backward one by one. Left hand. Right hand. Left hand. Right hand. Each crack in a steady rhythm like precision gun shots.
Ink had been ten-years-old the first time he picked up a whip and had several scars to prove it. By the time he had been sixteen, he’d been winning cracking competitions. It was one of the few ways he had been able to make his father proud. Even if that joy had been lessened when the bastard stole every cent he ever won.
In the end, it didn’t matter because he was never more alive or aware than when he was throwing out the leather and making it do exactly what he wanted. As soon as the last of the fifty clothespins lay flat on the ground, his unwelcomed thoughts flooded back into his mind.
He had waited to call Hannibal until he knew his Brother’s last client should have been gone. Hearing Jade’s voice in the background had hit him hard. The tornado of emotions spinning with unwelcomed negative emotions. Not jealousy, exactly. More shock that not only had his Brother arranged to meet Jade without him, but that he hadn’t told him about it.
Though why that was a problem was a mystery. They had both been with women without the other. Checking in before doing so would have never occurred to him in the past. The uncertain feelings the argument had caused were having more repercussions than he thought.
The two of them had argued before. Hell, no friendship that had lasted over a decade could be perfectly peaceful. But never once had they let their communication break down so badly. And never to the point of almost silence for three days.
It was his fault. Ink stepped away from the practice targets into a cleared portion of the backyard. They owned five acres and their house was set square in the middle of it to ensure their privacy. The house was surrounded by trees, but they’d cleared out a half-acre of it to give them a decent sized yard. It had the added benefit of creating an area for Ink’s practice with whips.
They didn’t have any neighbors close enough to complain when he turned up the music to a level that it vibrated in his bones. The angry beat soaked into and through Ink and he let fly with his whips. There was freedom to be found in focusing on nothing but the rhythm and timing of the cracks of his whips. His playlist was an old friend and time seemed to flow by him as one song flowed into the next. His muscles burned and sweat dripped down his neck and over his chest, drying in the night breeze.
Movement near the house caught his attention and he finally let himself stop. He shut off the music and wrapped his whips around his neck. Avoidance at this point would be nothing but cowardice. He turned to face Hannibal. His Brother leaned against the back of their large house in one of the few shadows.
It was almost impossible to read his expression, but his Brother seemed relaxed. Was that because he’d let out his frustration on Jade’s willing body? Hannibal stood with his arms crossed as if he had been watching him for a while.
The silence of the night stretched out between them like a heavy weight. The music and the crack of his whips always chased off many of the nighttime critters that would have made sound. Rather than rushing in with his anger at the forefront, the exercise had let him find his patience. He took his time coiling up his whips and supplies, putting them away while he gathered his thoughts.
What was there to say? Regardless of their interactions with Jade, they needed to fix their friendship first. By the time he was done cleaning up, Hannibal was sitting in one of the chairs on the back porch. A second bottle of beer like an offering on the table next to him.
