Page 54 of Queen Of WildCards

"Shit, sorry," he muttered, scrambling to grip the drawer as he rolled off me, already focused on another thing. "Headis killing me.Wannajust do me in and save me the trouble?"

Igiggled despite myself. "Youdid drink over half a bottle of liquor to yourself last night.Whatdid you expect?"

Hegroaned, holding a hand to the side of his head as he slipped to the floor and crumpled in a heap. "Fuck,Ididn't expect to get that wasted and pass out."Hecocked his head pointedly. "Ialso didn't expect this to hurt so damn much, either."

Ifought the smile that rose in me at his discomfort. "Youknow, if you just stopped drowning yourself in booze, you wouldn't wake up feeling like someone dragged you through the pits of hell."

Heflashed me one of those award-winning smiles and bent his legs, his feet spread apart just a bit as he draped those long arms over the tops of his knees and stared at me through them, ringlets of blonde hair framing his face in a messy but endearing ball of bedhead. "AndIsuppose this is where you tell meIshould deal with my issues head-on, doc?"

Myfoot darted out beforeIcould make my brain process the logical thought behind it, kicking at his foot playfully. "I'mthe mind reader here, not you, buddy."

Hespread his arms wide and grinned, wincing as his hangover headache announced itself again. "Well, doc, do your worst."

Ipretended to think about it for a second, butIwasn't really in the mood to entertain him. "Nah, not today,"Ihedged, hoping he'd drop it. "CanIborrow your shower?"Iasked instead, hoping he'd say yes.Afterlast night's debauchery in the kitchen,Iwanted to wash the stickiness from my thighs, wash the memory ofAce'shands from my skin, the feel of his breath against my ear overwhelming me even in the daylight.

"Carefor some company?"

Ilaughed at his half-assed attempt at flirting. "Youcouldn't stand up straight long enough to do anything."

"Idon't need to stand for you to sit on my face," he pointed out, eyes flashing darker, more lustful than they'd been before.

Ihad to be careful withJoker.Hewas sinfully alluring, like that old saying, 'you catch more flies with honey than shit'.Andgood god, was he all honey.Thatboy had a tongue that curved around words as well asIassumed it'd curl around other parts of a woman's body.Hewas a playboy, a manwhore, a literal himbo, andIhad no time for a shallow pretty boy.

Ihad to survive, butIdidn't have to sell my body to do it.

Notyet, anyhow.

"You'ddrown if you did that,"Ipointed out, crawling over to my bags to rifle through them for anythingIcould wear that didn't scream 'whoreing myself out at a punk rock concert'.

Atthe bottom of the bag was a pair of jean shorts, an oversized, off-the-shoulder tee, and some fresh undergarments.Iyanked the paltry offering from the pack and sighed, wishingI'dpaid more attention to whatI'dshoved in this bag whenIwas at my apartment.

Iwould have picked more carefully ifSpadehadn't been frazzling my last nerve.

Resigned,Irushed off, feeling much better onceI'drinsed the evidence of the night before from my body.Iimagined all the bad and unsettling parts of the night before washing down the drain with the suds of my shampoo and closed my eyes as the hot water scalded my skin, taking the shameIfelt and replacing it with contentment.

Iwouldn't let myself feel bad about whatI'ddone.

Notthis time.

Joker, thank god, had a hairbrush hanging out on his counter, along with some lovely hair productsIdidn't often get to splurge on, so onceI'dslipped into my outfit,Icracked the door open to ask him if he minded me using them, only to find him gone.

AndSpadewas lying across his bed, eyes trained on the bathroom door, a slow smile spreading across his lips as we locked eyes.

Fuck.

"Heythere, sweetheart," he drawled, his eyes obviously eager to see whatIwore for the day. "Sleepwell?"

Iinched the door closed and locked it, listening to his chuckle on the other side of the wood asIdebated my choices.Thelikelihood of the others knowing he was in here was slim to none, especially since they'd had to rescue me from him last night.Icould stay inJoker'sbathroom indefinitely.Eventually, someone would come looking for me.

Right?

Or,Icould own this shit and run roughshod over him, ignoring his obvious horndog attitude.

Athird option ghosted through my skull, andIdismissed it as soon as it formed in my head.

There'sa gun and clip under the sink.Youcould shoot him.

BlackJack'swords echoed hollowly in my head, reminding me that not just last night,Icouldn't shoot straight to save my life.

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