Twist the Knife (Lost Kings MC #24)

I curl on my side, my cheek resting against his rock-hard thigh. “You’re very hard,” I murmur.

He chokes and sputters. “What?”

Slowly, the words that came out of my mouth trickle into my brain. “Uh, not like that.” I squeeze his thigh. “You’re all muscle.”

He chuckles. “Thank you.” His body shifts.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable like this?” I ask.

“I’m fine.” He shifts again and something glides over my cheek, pushing my hair over my shoulder. His heavy arm settles along my side, his hand resting on my hip. “I got you. Just relax. Try to enjoy the high.”

“Relax,” I murmur. The calm and safety absorbing me into another world.

CHAPTER NINE

Margot

Float.

That’s all I do for the next few…hours?

When I finally claw myself out of the soft, mushy feeling, I’m on my back with my hands folded over my stomach like I’m about to be placed in a coffin. The heavy weight of one of Jigsaw’s arms still rests protectively over me with his hand over mine.

I blink and stare into the branches of the tree above us. Green leaves and darkening sky beyond.

What time is it? I gasp and sit up, jostling Jigsaw’s arm. “How long have I been out?”

“Hmm?” He stares at me groggily. “A little while. Hungry?”

He reaches for a big blue-and-gray cooler on his other side. “When Sparky says he’s bringing snacks, he doesn’t mess around.” My stomach feels rumbly now instead of queasy, so that’s an improvement.

But as I sit up, my brain swims and sloshes around. “Has the pot altered me forever?” I blurt.

“What?” Jigsaw laughs. “No, I don’t think so.”

“It wasn’t laced with anything else?”

“No. Sparky’s a purist. He wouldn’t dare mess with nature’s harvest.” He passes me a cold can of Sprite and a blue can koozie with a crown, dollar sign, and sun with today’s date on the bottom.

“Wedding favor?” I ask, staring at the design.

Jigsaw taps the crown image. “For Lost Kings.” He moves to the dollar sign. “Teller’s symbol for the club.” Finally, he lands on the sun. “Charlotte’s nickname is ‘sunshine.’”

“Ah, clever.”

“We’re all about the symbolism, baby.” He gives me a cocky wink and smile.

Laughing, I take a sip of the soda, sighing as the cool, sweet liquid eases my dry throat. “I didn’t snore, did I?”

“No.” He hands me a plate stacked with cold cuts and a fresh, squishy roll.

I wave the condiment packages he offers away and slap a few pieces of ham and a slice of cheese on a roll. “How embarrassing. Everyone knows I got high and passed out like a nerd?”

He drills me with a hard stare. “It’s not your fault, Margot.”

“I made you miss the whole party.”

“You didn’t make me do anything.” His lips quirk. “Few people have that ability.”