Page 64 of With This Ring

“That’s okay,” she says, running a finger up my arm. “He doesn’t have to fuck me to use that flogger. You see the muscles on him?”

The guy hums and squeezes my biceps. I move my arm to bat him off, but it’s like I move in slow motion. My body feels light and heavy at the same time. “So strong. He could?—”

“Go away,” a new voice says, making my head spin more. “Leave him alone. He came to see me.”

I know that voice.

Swallowing roughly, I turn around and see the tiny twink Carter and I tried to have some fun with when I hated him. The slim man has on another pair of hot pants, these ones dark purple. Paired with his tiny shorts is a sheer shirt that shows off his pierced nipples. He’s hot, there’s no doubt about it, but he’s not Carter.

Swallowing past my thick, dry tongue, I say, “I’m not?—”

“Come on, sweetie,” Tiny Twink says, grabbing both of my hands and pulling me off my stool. “I have the room ready.”

I trip over my feet, following behind him. I’m not sure why. I have no intention of doing anything with this man, so a room would be wasted, but I don’t want anyone else pawing over me either. At least I’m slightly familiar with tiny twink.

We walk down a hallway and make a left, away from the rooms with the open panels that I usually use, to rooms that are for private use. He opens the first vacant room and guides me to the bed, pushing me down until I’m lying on my back.

I bat his hands away. “No, don’t. Nothing is gonna happen.”

“I know,” he says, and I note that the sultry hint to his voice is gone. “You’re drunk and if security catches you, they’ll toss you out. You’re in no shape to be on the streets.” He goes over and locks the door, leaning against it before turning to me. “Can I call someone for you?”

Nothing is funny, but I laugh anyway. “Yeah,” I say through my laughing fit. “My husband. He’s gonna be pissed.”

Tiny Twink sighs. “What’s his number?” I recite it to him, tripping over the numbers before I remember their order.

When Carter and I got married, I made sure to memorize his number in the event I was taken hostage and managed to get free. I didn’t think I’d need it because I was drunk off my ass and left my phone at home on purpose.

“Stay here,” Tiny Twink says in a voice louder than it should be. Or maybe it’s my drunken brain amplifying the sound. “I’ll give him a call and I’ll come wait with you. Nothing will happen to you, and I won’t try anything. I promise.” He leaves before I can say anything further.

Carter is going to flip out. I wonder what he’s doing.

I sit up and put my head in my hands, the room spinning around me. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have left like that. My head was all fucked up with Pop being killed and Carter being shot at, but I shouldn’t have run. That’s my default when shit gets to be too much—I take off. When Pop pissed me off, I wouldleave. When something at my company didn’t go right, I would leave. I never face shit head on. I never stick around to fix what might not even be broken.

After a night like tonight, if Carter had taken off, leaving his cell phone and ring behind—both of which have GPS tracking on them—I’d be worried. Then when I found out he was okay, I’d be fucking livid.

If I know Carter, he will be. And I can’t run from whatever he feels. If he wants to shout at me, fight me, fucking choke me out, I’ll let him. I fucked up. I need to face that.

The door opens and Tiny Twink steps back in. He takes a seat on the chair across from me, looking at me quizzically. “Are you okay?”

“No. Not at all. I shouldn’t have come here. I should have stayed home with my husband.”

He nods, looking at me with solemn eyes. “If you want to talk, you can. I’m not sure how long it’ll take your husband to get here. Or we can just sit in silence. Up to you.”

“What’s your name?” I ask suddenly. “I keep calling you Tiny Twink in my head.”

He laughs loudly, and it sounds melodic. It flows over me, reminding me of Carter. Not because they sound the same, but because they sound so different. If I didn’t know before, I know now. I fucking love my husband.

“It’s Jamie. What’s yours?”

“Kai. Kaison. St. Clair-Whitlock. I took my husband’s last name too. He’s…he’s amazing. Weirdly funny. Like that dry humor. He makes these stupid jokes that aren’t funny. I don’t laugh because I like to rag on him, but I enjoy them. And he’s hot as fuck.” I look over at Jamie, who is gazing back at me with interest. Not like he’s interested in me, but about me talking about Carter. “I used to hate him. For years, I hated him. Wefought all the time. I never thought he’d end up being the perfect man for me.”

“That’s sweet,” he says, smiling at me. “Not many people like their husbands.”

“Yeah, I like him. I love him, actually. Never thought it would happen. Never thought I was capable of love. But Carter…he’s everything I didn’t know I needed. I think the sun rises and sets on him. He is my everything.”

Jamie sighs with his hand on his chest. “That’s the kind of love I want. It’s precious.”

“It’s scary as fuck. I almost lost him tonight. I thought?—”

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