Page 126 of Making Choices

All I know is that it makes the squirming feeling multiply. Unable to deal with it, I roll away from him and clamber to my feet. Unsteady on the mattress, I hold one arm out to get my balance, lift my chin like a queen, and make a circle motion with my other hand.

“Turn around.”

Surprise widens Slash’s gaze, then he does as he was told.

I leap onto his back.

“Fuck me.” He hooks his arms under my knees. “Not sure why you think I’m your personal pack mule.”

“It’s your fault.” With my arms around his neck, I cling to him and rest my chin on his shoulder. “You made me accustomed to a certain lifestyle, mister. By law, you’ll have to maintain it until I either marry or die.”

“And if I married you,” he quips as he carries me out of his bedroom. “What does the law say about that?”

“Depends on the vows,” I tell him with a giggle. “I guess, you’d have to specifically mention whether piggy backs were part of the deal, considering it’s settled precedent and all that.”

“Remind me to take that stipulation out of the ‘in sickness and in health’ section, then.”

“I don’t know,” I murmur. As Slash takes the steps down to the lower level two at a time, I slyly suck on my index finger until it’s wet. Dry as my mouth is from my hangover, it takes me a good few moments to achieve my goal. “What if I promised to deep condition your mane every Wednesday night? I think that’d even things up in this imaginary marriage of ours.”

“What if—” Slash’s retort dies when I jam my finger into his ear. Twisting it around, I give him a wet willy that’s so deep, I’m probably at risk of stroking his brain. He rushes to the bottom of the stairs and spins around in an attempt to dislodge me. “Fuckin’ hell, Cherub. That’s gross.”

I clench my knees and ride his back like a spider monkey. “Call mercy, then.”

“Fuck, no.”

“Do it,” I taunt him when he tries to capture my wrist but I’m able to slap his hand away. “Call mercy. Bow down before me, Fabio.”

“Ahem.”

The sound of someone clearing their throats stops us both in our tracks.

Slash turns toward the noise.

“Good mornin’, children,” Hunter says. He holds the black and white bag that contains my clippers and the hairdressing scissors Slash bought me years ago aloft. “Thought I’d drop in for a quick haircut if you were up for it.”

“Piss off,” Slash curses. “We had a late night.”

“Yeah, heard all about that.” The loaded meaning in Hunter’s voice brings a flash of memory into my head. My twin and Slash fighting. “It’s another reason why I dropped around.”

Slash kicked Sander.

No way.

He’d never do something like that.

“As you can see, everything’s fine,” Slash stresses the last word.

“Is it, though? ’Cause it seems to me that you’re gettin’ a little ahead of yourself. Feels like it was only weeks ago that you agreed that time was the perfect solution.”

Another flash of memory.

This time it’s of Sander telling me that their disagreement was over time.

Why can’t I remember if Slash and my twin had an argument last night?

“Changed my mind.”

“Not sure that’s your call to make.”

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