Page 68 of Midnights
I stare at the screen for a second, debating whether to reply. A smarter man would let it go. But then again, I like messing with her. And if I get the chance, I’m taking it.
If she knew the kinds of things I was thinking about doing to her, she’d probably never text me again.
Your Royal Highness: What are you up to tonight?
Me: Just cleaning house… What did you guys end up deciding to do?
So much for not replying.
Your Royal Highness: We’re dancing. Just getting a few drinks. I may or may not have already had one. Okay, maybe three.
Your Royal Highness: ... wait, you're cleaning?? Forgive me, but that’s not something I can imagine. Do I get proof?
I chuckle at her response. God, she’s something else when she’s had a few drinks. I can only imagine the trouble they're getting into. And of course, she’s demanding proof.
Me: You want me to send you a photo of my clean kitchen?
Or are you wanting a dirty photo of me cleaning?
Your Royal Highness: Ew. You're gross.
I hope your kitchen is a mess and it takes you hours to clean it.
I laugh out loud, drawing a few curious glances from the guys. Cam doesn’t even bother looking up, he just rolls his eyes.
But that first part of her message hits me.
They’re dancing.
She’s probably out in the middle of some dimly lit bar, moving her body like a damn invitation. Practically fucking the air around her.
My grip tightens around my phone before I can stop it, and I feel something hot curling in my chest. I have no right to be possessive over her. She’s not mine. That reminder loops in my head, but it doesn’t stop the way my pulse hammers harder.
Raven’s not the kind of woman who needs saving. I know that. If some asshole tried something, she’d probably break his fingers before he even got close. It’s everyone else I don’t trust. Drunk idiots who don’t know when to back the fuck off.
The urge to send a message telling them to be careful creeps up on me, but before I can type it out, I miss a play that would have won me some money. Instead, I flop.
“Head up in the clouds again?” Cam smirks, leaning back like he’s already won the game.
I grab the bowl of pretzels and launch it at him, sending the pretzels flying. “Fuck you.”
Everyone laughs and Cam just grins, catching the bowl before it can crash on the floor.
I shake off whatever the fuck that was and type out a reply.
Me: I’m not cleaning my house. I’m playing poker.
Your Royal Highness: Interesting.
I want to play!
Are you winning or losing?
Actually… I hope you don’t win!
Me: Ouch.
Fuck, that smartass mouth is tempting enough to ruin me.
