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“Oh, shit.”
He stared at me.
“I’m sorry!”
He started laughing.
“It’s the liquor!”
“Clearly.”
“Forget I said that.”
He laughed harder.
I shook my head and kept going like a dumbass.
“Maybe I want my ass smacked sometimes. Maybe I wanna do some freaky shit. Why does being somebody’s wife mean I gotta fuck like somebody’s grandma?”
Levin stared at me.
I groaned.
“Oh, shit, Lev. I’m sorry. That’s your brother. I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“You good.”
“I’m just sexually frustrated. That’s all.”
His laughter faded.
“You deserve to vent.”
I looked at him.
He shrugged.
“You want excitement. I get it.”
“Exactly.”
My eyes dropped when he reached for his drink.
“Wait.”
He looked at me. “What?”
I grabbed his hand before I even thought about it.
His knuckles were fucked up.
Skin split across two of them, one still a little swollen, another scabbed over like he’d hit something hard as fuck recently.
“Lev, what the fuck happened to your hand?”
He looked down like he’d forgotten it was there.
“Nothing.”
