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“Since when did you start drinking vodka?” “Since you said you wouldn’t kiss me if I drank whiskey.”
“Those fucking thighs,” he mutters at the bland bit of wall again.
“They tailor made you to my liking, Queenie,” he murmurs. Then his tone sours. “Of course they fucking did.”
“These. Fucking. Thighs, Penelope,” he hisses. His hands are rough and selfish as they skim up the backs of my legs and palm my ass. “Had to change the uniform because of these thighs.”
“You eat burgers, although you know they’re bad for you. It’s the same thing, Queenie. You’re bad for me—” his stare carves a hot path down the front of my hoodie-clad chest, lands on the hemline, then he licks his lips “—but I still want to eat you.”
My world is on fire, and I want to punish the girl who lit the match.
“All my other fuck buddies call me Penny.” Violence hits me like a lightning bolt. “And all your other fuck buddies will be six-feet-under if you mention them again.”
“You know where my brother is, Penelope?” “Have you tried Find My iPhone, Angelo?” Tayce stills. Wren draws in a sharp breath, and Rory mutters something about flamingos under her breath. The air heats for a moment, then cools when dry humor softens Angelo’s expression. “I get it now.”
“He means, he gets why Rafe is obsessed with you now. You talk almost as much shit as he does.”
A ragged exhale slips from his lips and dances up my spine. “Is this a joke?” “Tayce…” I swallow. “It’s temporary.” Foil crinkles, latex snaps. “How very fitting,” he says quietly, before plunging into me without warning.
“Fuck,” he hisses, letting my arms fall. “Did you just bite me?” I look at him seriously. “You know what they say. Eat the rich.”
Even though she’s brought me to my knees and set my world on fire around me, I’m not letting her go anywhere.
When she starts singing, realization spreads through me. I still, looking up at Penny’s shit-eating grin as she sings into the mic. Fucking Kiss Me, by Sixpence None the Richer. Running a hand over my jaw, I laugh in disbelief. I’m sure there’s nothing coincidental about that song choice. You’re a little brat, I mouth at her. She winks in response.
“Call another woman darling again, and she’ll die crossing the road.” It echoes what he said to me after I gave him a lap dance in his car. Guess that’s why he raises a brow and searches my eyes for humor. When he doesn’t find it, he nods, a small amount of satisfaction leaking through. “If that’s what you want, Queenie,” he says quietly.
“I don’t care how lucky you think you are,” he murmurs. “To me, you’re the unluckiest girl in the world.” Instinct pulls me away from him, but he only tightens his grip on my neck. “But you’re also the prettiest. The funniest. The fucking rudest. You’ve ruined my life but I’m not strong enough to stop you.”
“Look at you,” he rasps. “You’re so perfect, Queenie.” We both watch his hand as it glides over the curve of my stomach. “Every single inch of you. Perfection.”
“My Queen of Hearts,” he rasps in fascination, more to himself than to me. “My beautiful demise.”
We look nothing like the King of Diamonds and The Queen of Hearts. Just two fucking idiots in love.
“If I drown, you’re drowning with me. If you burn, I’m burning too. Pick your route to hell, Rafe. The destination and the company are the same.”
“What was I thinking?” he murmurs, brushing his nose over mine. “How did I ever think I could let you go, Queenie?”
“No? Then what do you want? Diamonds? A car? Two cars? An island, Queenie? A Birkin in every color? Fuck,” He licks the sensitive spot behind my ear. “I’ll give you the world in every color if you want it.” I can’t help but grunt a noise of approval. It’s the hustler in me, I guess. “Yes.” “Yes to what?” “All of it.” His chuckle vibrates against my pulse. “Deal.”
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “Sorry isn’t good enough,” I whisper back. His eyes flash. “Then what will be, Penny? Because one thing’s for sure; I’m not walking this earth without you.” He laughs bitterly, running a paw over his chest. “I tried it. Didn’t like it.”
Beside me, Angelo laughs into his eggs. I turn to glare at him. “How did you grovel?” He looks up at me lazily. “I killed her seventy-year-old fiancé with a bullet to the head. What did I need to grovel for?” Rory hums her approval.
Rory places a steaming mug in front of me. “Here’s your tea, Rafey,” she says sweetly. Too sweetly. As I look down at the steaming liquid, Angelo nudges it out of reach. “Don’t drink that,” he mutters, chomping on a slice of toast. “I need you sharp today.” “Gesù Cristo.” I glance up at Rory’s back as she makes teas for her and Angelo. Using a different spoon, obviously. “Your girl’s a psycho,” I bite out in rapid Italian.
“Why are you bothering?” His gaze is lazy, trained on the windshield as he pulls out onto the road. “Because I love you,” he says simply.
“May I suggest a wine pairing for your meal?” she asks. Rafe’s eyes never leave mine. “Fuck off, Julia.” I don’t know who the gasp comes from, me, Julia, or both of us, but when she scurries away, embarrassment heats my cheeks. “That was fucking rude.”
“You’d be stupid to mistake my obsession with you as me being a limp-dick little bitch, Queenie. I’ll play your games and jump through all your hoops until you blow the whistle on full-time. But what I won’t do is tolerate you mentioning another man, hypothetical or otherwise.” When I glance up, I notice the white puffs of condensation leaving her lips have ceased. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Because even though I’m unlucky with you, I feel even unluckier without you.”
It’s bound in mustard-yellow leather with a title embossed on the cover. Penelope Price for Dummies.
“Kick me in the shin again, and I’ll spank you harder than I did last night.” I jump at his sudden warning slicing through the silence. When I don’t reply, he pops open an eye and smirks at me sleepily. “Never mind, you’re just admiring the view again.” “No, I’m not.” Yes, I am. “I’m thinking.” “Does it hurt?” “Shut up.”
“Fuck, I think I’ve finally found a fetish: you spending all my money. There must be a name for that, right?”
