Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck Book 8)

by Emilia Finn

  I’m my own worst enemy; I’m the reason I’m always in pain. Because I let myself fall deeply, I let myself feel the unending love that I’ve known since meeting her.

  “I love you too.” She glides up to the tip of my cock, then down, and releases a shuddering breath. “I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.” She slides up and whimpers, then down and groans. “Dammit, Jamie.”

  “It’s okay to be vulnerable.”

  “It’s dangerous to be vulnerable,” she whispers. “It’s stupid.”

  “Not if it’s with someone who loves you.” I wrap an arm around her waist and spin us again. Gentler this time, kinder, I move deep inside her tight heat, and bring us both to the very edge of the world. “It’s okay to be vulnerable with me.” I press a kiss to her lips. Her jaw. “Because I’ll take care not to hurt you.” I lay over her, and press my weight down so we’re joined in every way. “I’m terrified of the pain I’m going to feel when you leave again.” I push harder. Deeper. Faster. “It’s inevitable. But I’m still giving myself to you.”

  “I’m going to come,” she cries out as her body turns taut. “Jamie.”

  I scoop my hands under her torso and up around to her shoulders, like they’re hooks, and I pull her down to me at the same time I slam deep inside her. We join with a crash and twin groans, and with each stroke, I straddle a line between fantasy and reality.

  I have both right now. I have everything I’ve been dreaming of. Soon, it’ll be but a memory. But for right now…

  “I love you.” I come inside her, violent jets of cum leave my body and brand hers in the same breath that she tenses and cries out.

  We come together, she squeezes me like a vise, and I slam my lips to hers to catch her cries of vulnerability.

  Because I promised I would keep them safe.

  I promised I would keep her safe.

  “Bom, bom, bom.” We lay under the covers a little while later, naked, sated, and more relaxed than I’ve felt in years. With Quinn’s cheek resting on my chest, and her legs tangled with mine, I hum so she can feel the vibrations in my chest. “Bom, bommmm, bom.”

  “Still a shitty singer.” With a soft snicker, she runs the tips of her fingers along my abs. “Our song?”

  “Mm. I didn’t forget the tune.”

  “Because it’s the sound of our hearts,” she whispers. “It’s ours, and nobody can take that away from us.”

  “Not for the rest of our lives.” I slide my hand along her arm, and stop on her wrist. “Gonna give my watch back now?”

  Her chest bounces with muted laughter. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. I bought this from the store a week ago with my own money.”

  “Uh huh. So the Griffin logo on the dial…?”

  “I bought it from the Griffin store?”

  “And the engraving on the back? Did the store write ‘Jamie’ on all of them?”

  “Yes. Now shush. I’m trying to sleep.” She hitches her leg up high over my thighs, and snuggles in. “Hey, Jamie?”

  I stroke her hip and melt into the mattress. “Mm?”

  “This is the first time we’ll ever get to sleep in the same bed all night.”

  I stare at the ceiling, and smile. “We’ve slept in the same bed the last few nights.”

  “But this time, we’re in love.”

  I scoff in the back of my throat, and pull her closer. “I was in love two nights ago too – even after you kicked me in the fuckin’ face.”

  Quinn

  You Need To Do It For Us Both

  We might be staying in some backward town in the middle of nowhere, but every town has a pharmacy. Always, because there’s always some idiot in some bar causing fights.

  It’s me. I’m the idiot.

  I wander down the aisle in a local drugstore about four blocks from where Jamie and I slept last night, and tossing bandages and antiseptic creams into the blue basket I grabbed from the front entrance, I check the time and decide I need to hurry. It’s early, but considering today’s the day we’ll be driving back to the town I spent two consecutive Christmas weeks in, we have to get on the road soon.

  Today’s the day I’ll be seeing a bunch of people who may or may not hate me.

  In their eyes, my brother is a murderer. And possibly worse, I ran out on their son/brother/nephew/cousin, and left him to nurse his broken heart all on his own.

  It wouldn’t surprise me if I receive nothing more than the cold shoulder when we arrive. Or a punch to the face, seeing as both his mother and his sister are champion fighters.

  I stop by a small display of candy near the cash registers, and because I’m a sucker for nostalgia, I snag a sucker and tear off the wrapping while I wait for the clerk to call me forward.

  “Next please.”

  Smiling, I make my way to the counter and drop my things in front of the scanner. Bandages for my hand. Dressing for Jamie’s back. Antiseptic for us both, because I don’t want to die from gangrene. A lance of guilt slashes across my stomach when I take Jamie’s wallet from my pocket and pass the clerk the credit card, but I don’t have enough money for this. I don’t have disposable income, so I act like everything is fine, tap the card, since I don’t know the pin code, then I accept the bag with a smile and head outside onto the sidewalk.

  It’s hot out already, so I snagged a pair of cutoffs from my bag before leaving our room, and donned the same tank I wore last night. There are only a couple of blood spatters – an impressive feat, considering the chaos I caused.

  I stop in at a bakery on a whim, since I was walking right past, grab a couple of croissants with sliced ham and cheese, then heading back to the hotel on foot, I step across the street no more than an hour after I left.

  “Quinn!”

  I jump when our room door slams open and Jamie races outside in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. His hair is wild, his chest pumped full of adrenaline, and his face marred by rage. But then our eyes meet as I step up onto the curb, and his gaze shoots along my body. He looks at my feet, my legs, the bag I hold in my right hand, and then up to my chest.

  Then he stops on my face.

  Frowning, I continue walking forward. “What are you doing?” I move past him when he continues to scowl. “Why are you outside in your underwear?”

  “Um…” He follows me back in with confusion plastered all over his face. Shutting the door, he stands in place and tries to shake a little sense into his head. “Uh…”

  “Jamie?” I sit on the end of the bed and start rifling through my bag of goodies. “Why—?”

  And then it hits me.

  “You thought I ran?”

  Once I set my things out ready for use, I finally spare a glance for this man who holds my heart. His black boxer shorts have me forgetting his injured back, and instead thinking about all the things we could do before checking out of this shitty room. His legs are thick, muscled, and his waist is narrowed down to a V. His upper torso flares out – he’s fond of chest day, I suppose – and then up to muscular shoulders, though his left sits lower than his right.

  “Jamie?” I prod. “You thought I ran?”

  “I expected to wake up next to you,” he rasps out and remains in place by the door. “I went to sleep with you half on me. But I woke up, and you were gone.”

  “I went to the drugstore.” I pick up the bottle of antiseptic and lift my chin. “Come over here so I can make sure your cuts don’t get infected.”

  “You went to the drugstore?” Suspicious, he takes a step closer. Then another. “I woke up alone, my wallet and watch were gone, car keys were gone, and you…” He frowns. “You didn’t ditch?”

  I shake my head and snag his hand when he’s close enough. Pushing up to my knees, I pull him down to sit in front of me so I can work. “I have your wallet and watch. I… uh…” I thank the universe that he’s already facing another way when I admit my pitiful economic status. “I couldn’t afford what I needed to buy. So, uh… thanks. And here.” I grab a
paper bag and hand him his croissant. “You paid for breakfast, too. This might sting a little.”

  Before he has a chance to speak, I work a little antiseptic onto sterilized wipes, and move them over the welts on his back.

  “Ah!” he hisses and folds forward. “Fuck.”

  “I’m sorry.” I reduce the pressure as I work over his injuries. “But despite the fact I kick you a lot, and almost crashed our car, and got you beaten up in a bar, I don’t actually want you to die. Which means this is necessary. You eat, I’ll work.”

  “Then I get to pour the stinging water all over you?”

  Snickering, I start picking through my pile of supplies in search of gauze. “I don’t have any open wounds. But thanks for the offer.”

  “You split your knuckles.” He takes a noisy bite of his croissant and slumps forward. “It would be my pleasure to help you clean that up.”

  “You’re mean, you know that?” I tear the packaging from a bandage. “I spent my whole life with Will overprotecting me. It’s like whiplash, because now I’ve met you, and I swear, sometimes you get this look in your eyes…”

  “What kinda look?”

  I snort. “Like you wanna clip me on the chin.”

  “Oh yeah. Good spotting. I often wanna smack you on the chin,” he deadpans. “If you were a man, we’d have come to blows a thousand times already.”

  “Lucky I’m a woman, then, huh?” I gently place a gauze pad on his skin. “I don’t want to get hit.”

  “Lucky for me too.” He hisses when I hurt him. “If I wanted a male version of you, well… that would be Will. And that just doesn’t work for me. Thank god.”

  “Thank god!” I repeat on a laugh. “I’ve never in my life been so happy to have a vagina. Alright.” I place a second gauze pad on his back, and check some of the smaller bruises. “I’m no doctor or anything, but at least they’re clean now.”

  “Thanks.”

  He tosses the last of his croissant into his mouth, then turns and pulls me down to sit on my butt. Grabbing the second bakery bag from our pile, he hands it to me, then takes my right hand and lays it open on his knee.

  “Eat up,” he murmurs and grabs the antiseptic.

  I hold my breath in anticipation, and scrunch my eyes closed when he turns the bottle upside down and soaks a little gauze.

  When a minute passes, and he doesn’t move, my eyelids flutter open, only to reveal Jamie sitting inches in front of me, grinning kinda how he used to, back when we first met.

  “What?” I ask in exasperation.

  His eyes twinkle with fun. “You’re really pretty, even when you’re doing the pig nose because you’re scared of a little antiseptic.”

  “First of all,” I scowl. “Describe my nose as piggish ever again, and I’ll cut you. Second, you may have reason to be mad at me, and helping me with sore knuckles is the perfect time for a little revenge that you can claim you took no pleasure in.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m gonna enjoy the shit out of this.” He presses the wet gauze to my knuckles, and holds on tight when I buck against his hold.

  “Ouch!” I toss my croissant down and slap at his hand. “Dammit, Jamie! That hurt.”

  “Yeah, well, my face still hurts.”

  “This is unhealthy!” I slap his arm over and over again. “Sneaky retribution is surely the foundations to an abusive relationship.”

  “I wasn’t sneaky,” he counters. He works the gauze over my knuckles and grins. “I told you what I was doing, and I told you I would enjoy it. Also…” He peeks up at me from beneath his lashes. “I thought you left.” He swallows and goes back to work. “This morning, I woke up, and you were gone.”

  “So you were pissed? That would explain the shouting.”

  He shakes his head and keeps his gaze down. “Not pissed. I was hurt,” he murmurs. “Sad. I missed you already, and for a second there, I wondered if it would be another four years till I saw you again. The car keys were missing, so I assumed—”

  “The car keys are over there.” I nod toward the TV, and the ring of keys beside it. Yes, I touched them before leaving, and yes, I considered taking the car. “The SUV is right outside. I didn’t take it.”

  “I thought you left.” Finally, he looks up and meets my eyes. “You could have. You could be far enough now that I wouldn’t be able to catch up.” He finishes with the antiseptic, and after a moment of turning my hand over and closing it into a fist, he grabs a rolled bandage and tears the plastic wrapping off with his teeth. “Your hand isn’t broken. Not even close. But it hurts, so I’ll wrap it for you. Plus, it’ll help keep the broken skin clean.”

  “I’m sorry for making you worry.” I study his hands just as he studies mine. “I wanted to get into town and back before you woke. Get supplies, help fix the damage I caused last night.”

  “Last night…” He draws a heavy breath until his chest expands, and lets it out on a small grin. “I taught you how to hit, Q. I remember clearly,” he pauses on the word, “four years ago, teaching you how to look after yourself. But you completely forgot my instructions in the heat of battle.”

  “I was nervous,” I joke on an almost silent chuckle. “I did my best.”

  “It takes a lot of talent to cause a riot like that. So… well done, I guess. And don’t worry about me. I literally get beaten up every day. It’s my job.”

  “With pool cues?”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, but I bet if you gave Bry a stick and told him to take a swing at me, he wouldn’t hesitate. He enjoys making me bleed.”

  “Sometimes family is weird.”

  When he’s done with my hand, I grab the next biggest bandage and start unwrapping it. “For your shoulder. I know you’re all about acting tough, but I can tell it hurts you.”

  I rise from the bed, and make my way to his bag of clothes in the corner. I grab a clean shirt from the pile, toss it at him, and while he stands to shrug it on, I meander back in his direction and nibble on the inside of my cheek in thought. “How’d you hurt it?”

  He sits back down and shrugs. “Training.”

  “Was it intentional?”

  “Like did the other guy do it on purpose?” he asks. “Nah. It was someone a little younger, a little too eager to show that he can stack up to a Kincaid. We were working on locks, and he didn’t release me when I expected him to. I tore my supra…” He frowns and tries again. “My supraspin…” Then he shrugs. “Something in my shoulder. It’ll heal in time. I just haven’t been all that careful with it this past week. What about you?” He allows me to work his left arm into a type of sling, while reaching up with his right hand and touching my left shoulder. “Can’t tell me it’s not bothering you.”

  “I was working on the silks at the club.”

  His brows draw closer together. “Silks?”

  “Yeah. I taught myself how to dance with silks. It’s actually a lot of fun, and when I’m really feeling the flow, it looks really graceful. I just…” I tie the sling at the back of Jamie’s shoulder blades. “I don’t know. I always knew my life was heading toward a pole rather than a grand stage, so I figured I would turn lemons into lemonade. Learn something fun and new, teach the other girls.” I shrug and walk back around him to stand between his legs.

  It’s both amazing and heartbreaking that his unbound hand goes to my hip. It’s a compulsion he can’t help. An obsession.

  “Anyway,” I continue when our eyes meet. “I got caught up in a drop while I was practicing, and used my arm to stop me from slamming to the floor. I mean, it was a good save, but it was at the expense of something in my shoulder.”

  “Something?” He tilts his head to the side and considers me. “You haven’t been to the doctor?”

  “No, rich boy. I don’t go to doctors. They have this tendency to ask for money and ID. Neither of which I have.”

  “So you don’t know what’s wrong with it, or how to fix it?”

  “Pretty sure tribes in the Amazon don’t
have x-ray machines or modern medicine either.”

  When he says nothing but lifts a brow, I laugh and add, “My body will heal itself in time. And until then, I take care not to make it worse.”

  “Bar brawls not included?”

  I smile. “Exceptional circumstances.”

  “Does it hurt today?”

  It burns like the fire of a thousand suns. “It’s not too bad.”

  Scoffing, he stands and pushes me down to sit. “Terrible liar, Q. At least that I can be sure of.”

  He pokes through the last of our supplies, and when he finds I only bought one sling, he shakes his head and grabs a long white bandage like the one I have on my hand. Tearing it open with his teeth, then stepping in so he straddles my legs, he undoes my hard work with his sling, and pulls his arm out so he can help me with my shoulder.

  “We’re a mess.” I lift my arm and bite down my hiss at the pain that radiates through to my back. “Arms, hands, backs. Anyone would think we’re clumsy.”

  “Not clumsy,” he murmurs as he wraps. “Most of this shit is your fault. And don’t forget the bruising on my face. That was you too.”

  “You’re really mad about that, huh?” I snicker when he huffs his impatience. “You need to learn to let things go.”

  “Some things are too important.”

  He takes a subject that I was joking about, and turns it into something a hell of a lot more serious.

  “I would if I could,” he continues. “But I just…” He shakes his head. “You’re gonna have to make the decision for us both. Because until I’m dead, I can’t let this go.”

  “So you need me to run?” I whisper. “After all this time and effort, you need me to run out when you’re not watching?”

  He finishes working on my bandage, and slips his arm back into his. Swallowing, he avoids looking into my eyes and turns to pull jeans on. “Yup. That’s what’s gonna have to happen, because there’s no way I’m going to be able to ask you to leave.”

  When I say nothing, he shakes his head. “Let’s get packed up and back on the road. We still have a few hundred miles to go.”