Page 22 of Royal
Royal snorts. “Yeah. I probably would have won if your whore of a sister hadn’t been shaking her ass around the ring half naked.”
Davis bristles, his face pulling into a nasty sneer. I shoot a look at Wilder that I hope he reads asNope, we gotta put a stop to this.
Wilder skirts around me, and I take the opportunity to shuffle Royal backward into his room and shut the door.
“He—” His eyes crash shut. “This is so fucked.”
“Yeah. I know. I wish you didn’t have to deal with Echo’s brother being in your damn face. But you know what—?” I don’t get to finish my thought because there’s a loud thud from the hallway, which I assume is Davis’s body either hitting the floor or a wall. A moment later, I’m proved correct when Wilder joins us… like nothing happened.
He points at the bed. “Time for you to sleep this off.”
Royal’s head is lolling a bit again, and his blinks have become long. “Yeah. Okay. But I really wanna put my fist in that asshole’s face.”
I laugh as the dude kicks out of his sliders, then clumsily strips out of his T-shirt, athletic shorts, and boxer briefs. Buck naked, he falls face-first onto the mattress. With his mouth half obscured by a pillow, he mumbles, “T-tell me I didn’t fuck it all up. I know you needed me to win tonight.”
I grit my teeth.Shit.That’s aimed at Wilder. Should have seen it coming.
Wilder shakes his head, squatting down next to Royal. He puts a firm hand on his back. “Not at all. You went all three rounds. You did better than most against Bear. Even got in some amazing hits. You did good.”
“We can’t help it that Mr. Pierce is now pitting you against difficult opponents. If you weren’t a couple of fucking badasses…” I shake my head in dismay.
Wilder pats our friend on the back. “We’ll train harder. You’ll have to help me by making sure I’m ready to win the next one.”
A soft snore blows from Royal. He’s out. Wilder rises from his crouched position, hands on his hips. I can tell his brain is racing when he looks toward the ceiling and exhales softly. I don’t know if he needs me to say anything else, so I keep quiet. He’ll figure things out. He always does. A moment later, he seems to gather himself, then, observing the way Royal is half off the bed, he grasps both ankles and drags him to a slightly more comfortable position.
Finally, he trains his dark gaze on me. “What a fucking night. Let’s get your drunk ass to bed.”
My lips twitch as I sway on my feet. “You can take my drunk ass to bed any night of the week and you know it.”
“Not what I meant, Benneti.” He gives me an eye roll, and we exit Royal’s room, and head for ours, which are directly across from each other, all the way at the end of the hall.
“That stupid fucknut must have picked himself up off the floor,” Wilder murmurs after we pass Davis’s room. He clears his throat, pausing between our rooms, then lets us into mine, gesturing that I should enter first. “After you, Captain Jack Sparrow. Did you save any of the rum at all for me?”
I laugh. “It was tequila. And no. Royal drank most of it.”
Inside the room, Wilder scrubs his fingers over his scalp. “We can discuss how all things Royal and Echo went later. But—” He stops, clearly in turmoil over something in particular. “I wanna know how the fuck that Davis guy was ever Royal’s best friend.”
I blink, certain the alcohol is playing tricks on me as I back up. My balance is shot, so maybe my hearing is, too. I stop to physicallyandmentally regain my bearings. Davis and Royal. Best friends? “What?” I reach out, grasping the front of his shirt to steady myself. “That makes no fucking sense at all.”
Except maybe it does. The way they’d gone after each other, it’d been more like brothers fighting than acquaintances.
Wilder glances down where I have a hold of his shirt. He sighs heavily. “They were friends. Close, according to Echo. But you know what? Let’s fucking drop it for now. We can talk about all of that later.”
“Right,” I grunt softly as I pull him closer. “There are other things we can be doing.”
Wilder stares dangerously into my eyes, but the tone of his words doesn’t carry quite the same ferocity. “Fuck off, Beck. Not tonight.”
Catching my lower lip with my teeth, I tilt my head to the side. “You don’t mean that.” My fist unclenches, and I rest my hand flat on his chest. The warmth of his skin and the thudding, heavy beat of his heart can both be felt through the thin material. We stand there several moments with our gazes locked on each other, close enough that his breath teases my lips with every exhale. “Come on. Let’s have a little cuddle.” I know he hates it when I say shit like that, but whatever is happening in his head, it’s way too serious for my liking.
His Adam’s apple bobs hard as he swallows. “I do mean it.” He looks away, his jaw twitching madly. His body has gone rigid.
My brows dart together, and I grasp his jaw and turn him to face me before taking his head between my palms and staring into his eyes. “The fuck is wrong with you? We’re alone here. Just admit you like dick.”
TWELVE
WILDER
“I do not.”Gripping his wrists, I pull his hands down, freeing my head from his hold. I’m fully aware that I sound like a stubborn jerk, and, despite the fact that I’ve just said I don’t want his cock, I haven’t let go of him, won’t allow him to walk away. It’s quite the conundrum that’s filling my head. I want him. But—
