Fractured (Deep In Your Veins, #5)(86)

EPILOGUE


(Jared)



Keeping my arm tight around a swaying Sam to support her weight as we neared our home, I said, “Maybe you should pass on movie night things in future.” It was always the same: she got smashed, lost track of time—or simply didn’t give a shit what time it was—and I was forced to go find her.

Her aquamarine eyes narrowed and cut to me. “They’re not movie night things.”

“Well they’re not movie nights.” They were excuses to get blind drunk without mates and boyfriends hovering around. “Our squad agrees.”

She almost tripped over nothing. Quickly righting herself, the picture of dignity, she cleared her throat. “I’m all right.”

I sighed. When I’d reached Fletcher’s apartment and saw the drunken state she was in, I’d offered to carry her but she’d point blank refused. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. She was as stubborn when she was hammered as she was when she was sober. “Let me just carry you, it’ll be easier.”

She straightened, affronted. “I got this.” But she didn’t have it at all.

I sighed again. “You’re going to fall, and it’ll be your own fault for drinking alcohol like it’s going out of fashion.”

“I’m not rat-arsed. Just a bit on the tipsy side.”

I snorted. “Sure, baby.”

She stumbled again. Throwing out one arm, she declared, “Seriously, I’m all right.”

It would be annoying if it wasn’t so amusing. I guided her up the wooden steps to the wrap around porch of our beach house. “Let’s just get you inside.” I’d planned to put her to bed and strip her, but she shed her clothes one item at a time as she unsteadily made her way to the bedroom.

Sinking into the mattress, totally and deliciously naked, she lifted a brow. “You’re not naked. Why are you not naked?”

Slipping off my jacket, I took a moment to drink her in. I knew every inch of that body, knew every sensitive zone and every ticklish spot. Sam might say she wasn’t ticklish, but she was talking shit. The truth was that she just didn’t relax and let her guard down that much for many people.

She examined her Binding knot. “Have you noticed how often Butch traces Imani’s knot, as if reminding himself that it’s there? It’s sort of sweet. I didn’t think he had it in him.”

I smiled down at her. “You’re taking credit for him going after Imani, aren’t you?”

She blinked, the image of innocence even when she was decadently spread out before me. “Why would I do that?”

“Maybe because you urged Marla to proposition him the night Imani split up with Dean.” My tone dared her to deny it.

She exhaled heavily. “I wanted him to see just how much it was Imani that he wanted. And it worked, didn’t it? He did us all proud and bucked the f*ck up.”

I crawled on the bed, leaning over her and bracing my hands either side of her head. “It was nice of Dean to leave The Hollow. Or, should I say, it was nice of you to kick him out.”

She slid her hands under my shirt and up my chest. “I didn’t kick him out. I just strongly suggested that he bugger off and let them live their lives in peace.”

“Just like you strongly suggested after he cheated on Imani that he shouldn’t try to win her back.”

“Well—”

“And just like you strongly suggested to every single one of Butch’s exes that they back off.”

She huffed. “I want to secure the happiness of my squad members. Is that so bloody awful?”

“Not awful.” Smiling, I kissed her. “Your matchmaking skills failed with Paige and Stuart.”

She frowned, appearing offended. “I had no hand in them getting together. I wasn’t surprised when it went wrong; they don’t suit each other at all. Paige needs someone a lot different than him.”

I arched a brow. “And I suppose you know exactly who she needs, don’t you?”

“As it happens, yeah.”

“And I suppose you’re going to meddle, aren’t you?”

“Well it’s fun and it works.”

Giving her my weight, I nipped her lip. “I can think of a better kind of fun.”

Her eyes gleamed. “Yeah? Do tell.”

“It involves your legs hooked over my shoulders, my cock deep inside you, and my teeth in your skin.”

She pursed her lips. “The plan has potential. Is there more?”

“A lot more.” I licked at her throat. “I like sex with Drunk Sam. Drunk Sam lets me do things that Sober Sam refuses to believe ever happened.” Things that always made her blush the next evening. Not a lot made my mate blush.

“Then maybe you should hurry and take advantage of Drunk Sam.”

“Maybe I should.” I kissed her hard, deep, long. Taking my time, eating at her mouth the same way I intended to eat other parts of her. She could still, even after years of being mated, get me hard with just a look. She never ceased to surprise me. She kept me on my toes. And she still meant more to me than anything else. The woman f*cking owned me. But since she belonged to me just as much as I belonged to her, I was good with that. “Love you, baby.”