low

crisp, clean smell of the sheets. His T-shirt

layed the day's events on a loop, a dizz

of a key scraping in the lock

roat. I sat up, clutching

doorway. He was drunk. Not sloppy, but a dangerous, unsteady k

sed, his eyes unfocused, as

said, my voice

er vest-his Cut-and tossing it onto a chai

He went to the wardrobe, pull

toward the armchair in the corner.

My voice was sharp, cut

. A frown creased his brow, an

rs," he said, h

plush fibers. "You brought me here. You announced to your entire club that I was your Old Lady. And now you're going

fury. "You and your irresponsible son... you'r

ze in his eyes burned away, repl

e growled, his voic

are. "Sleep in this bed tonight. I have to establish that

the rumors. I don't care if you're 'broken'. We can build a wall of pillows dow

the air, a raw, d

t rising and falling with heavy breaths. The

caped his lips. He tossed the pillow

arker," he said, using my f

ked into the bathroom, and a moment

mmering against my ribs. Had I won, or had

hair, trailing down the scarred, tattooed landscape of his chest, and lower, along the ridge

ide of the bed, threw ba

"You were all talk a minute ago. I thought you wanted

twisting my own words back in my face.

ack, forcing my voice to s

sideways at the man beside me. The mattress dipped under his