The apartment was a disaster.
Clothes scattered everywhere, empty bottles, bodies sprawled across the leather sofa and the floor. The table was dusted with white powder residue, and the air, thick with s*x and sweat and expensive cologne.
It was an aftermath of a night that would have destroyed Jax's carefully constructed image and Silver’s portfolio if anyone had witnessed it.
I was curled in my chair, wrapped in Jax's discarded shirt, watching the Romano brothers sleep tangled together on my sofa.
Silver's arm was draped possessively across Jax's chest, their breathing synchronized in post orgasmic exhaustion.
My clock showed 3:47 AM.
And then Jax's phone, which was abandoned on the floor near his jeans, started ringing.
He stirred, groaning, fumbling for it with barely opened
