Page 366 of Double or Nothing

My ass is dribbling fresh when he pulls out, and my dick is all fired up.

Love, lust, relief. He gets it all. Positioning himself on all fours instead of me, so I can return the favour.

I pin him onto the bed for my go, my arm across the back of his neck as I drive myself inside him.

It’s the painting.

It twists my guts, both in beauty and in pain.

The missing piece in our perfect, lust heavy pairing. Fuck, I take it all out on Jack’s slick asshole.

I’m sweating like a beast when I unload from round two. I lie down beside him with the room spinning around me, and he’s there with a smile on his face, the adoration in his blue eyes the stuff of dreams.

I’m not going anywhere. I meant it.

We need a plus, not a minus.

I’m not ever being a minus in Jack’s world again.

We hold each other in bed after yet another round, showered clean after a trip to the bathroom and lying in the bliss of skin to skin.

I’m transfixed by his kisses in the darkness, snuggling under the covers I’ve been pining for. Yet, still, our other someone is missing.

The bed is so big without her.

The apartment is missing a big part of its soul.

Soul Girl.

I know Jack is missing her as much as I am.

“We’ll get her back,” he says after a long silence in the darkness. “She needs to come home. To her real home. Home is where the heart is, after all. And hers belongs with us. To us.”

It’s a lovely sensation to relax in his arms, surrendering to the sensation of closeness.

Because I can relax, even though the world around me is now in chaos.

I can relax, because I have Jack Reid beside me. Jack Reid the tireless pursuant of goals most people would baulk at. The winner at the Gilded Table of life.

I know Jack Reid will bring Alice back home to us.

No matter what it takes.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

JACK

What a relief to have BT back home. Just me and him without the party night bells and whistles. No champagne, no whisky, no cock on cock action from the moment we opened our eyes.

Just us, Jackass and BT, settling down for breakfast together.

Bryce is sitting at the island in one of my white robes, both hands wrapped around his coffee. It’s early, in line with my new schedule. His hair is a mess, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, the nerves racing through him clear to see.

Hardly a surprise, since he ditched his career yesterday afternoon with a scribbled out resignation letter. I wish I could’ve seen Parker’s face when he handed it over.

His nerves may be running riot right now, but he’ll survive. He’ll thrive. I’ll make sure of it.

I stand opposite him, preparing breakfast with concentration, determined to give the Toastique Pro the respect it deserves after its wretched hiatus.