Page 112 of Ruthless Beasts

He rolled his eyes and didn't even try to hide it. "Fine."

It had been a little over a month since they had come home from some sort of top-secret project. When they left, they had assured me it was nothing, not like I believed them with all the extra security around. But Mercer coming home with a bullet wound told me otherwise. I didn't push, though I wanted to. I knew they did something they deemed necessary. I just hated that it put their lives in danger.

But his arm was far worse than he made it seem. He came home, not wanting me to acknowledge his injury, so he distracted me with sex. But when it was over, and I was taking off his clothes so that I could force him into the bath, I couldn't believe how bad it really was.

Just a fucking graze?

No. That bullet went through his skin, and even to this moment, he still wouldn't admit it. The sleeve of his shirt was absolutely soaked in blood, his pants too. I don't know how he managed to not pass out from blood loss. It was probably sheer stubbornness that kept this man upright. So I washed it as much as I could, used a rag to scrub the grime off his body, before forcing some pills I found in the medicine cabinet down his throat. He bitched the whole time, but I knew that unless Ace or Adam showed up, there wasn't much more I could do. I wasthankful that at least the meds worked fast, and when I woke the next day, they had talked him into stitches.

Pulling the carton of orange juice out of the fridge, I shook it, noting it was almost empty. I opted to forgo the glass and took a sip from the carton. "No pain?"

His nose scrunched as he looked at me. "You animal. No, I said it was fine."

"No redness, swelling, goop around the stitches?" I pushed.

"Jesus, you're as bad as Ace."

"We care." I shrugged before taking another sip.

"You know we have glasses," he pushed.

I held the remaining two sips out to him. "Want some?"

He looked absolutely disgusted. "Pass."

"Oh, so you can lick my?—"

He turned, spatula in hand, eyes heated. "I dare you to finish that statement, little girl."

I smirked. "Pussy, but can't drink after me on a carton of orange juice."

He stepped forward, placing his spatula on the countertop as he neared me. His fingers were rough as he grasped my hip, pulling me close to him. His voice was low as he spoke in my ear. "Your pussy is far sweeter than any orange juice would ever be. Your pussy is a complete meal in itself. Your pussy is so damn delicious that it's all I think about most days."

My body was already turning to jelly in his hands. "Hmm. So my pussy is the equivalent of orange juice to me."

"I don't want your back washed, four-day-old orange juice baby, not unless I can pour it over your skin and lick it off." He bit into my neck.

I shook the carton that I was now holding. Fuck. "I don't think there is enough for that."

"I can make do," he promised as his teeth nibbled up my neck, his tongue lavishing every place he bit.

"Pancakes burning," Adam announced as he stepped into the room.

"Fuck the pancakes," Mercer growled, holding on to me tighter.

"There are many things I'd like to fuck, and pancakes have never been one of them. I'd never yuck on someone's yum though." He placed a pile of paperwork down on the island. "But I need to remind you, you've got a meeting after breakfast. About some dock transactions."

I blinked a few times, looking at my husband as I bent to the side to see him past Mercer. "Did you... just make a joke?"

"Didn't know he had it in him, did you?" Mercer pulled away, grudgingly picking up the spatula to attempt to save the blackened disk of dough.

Adam's expression didn't change as he stared us down before he blinked, his voice dry as he announced, "Meeting, Mercer."

"I heard you," Mercer growled. "I’d just rather do what you're doing is all."

"Meet us after," Adam offered.

"What are you doing?" I asked, being nosey, even knowing they wouldn't tell me. They rarely did.

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