She shrugged. “I don’t really sleep.” She stretched, then rubbed her shoulder. I briefly wondered if sleeping on the floor was hurting her. Snitch had no mattress, no pillow, but I’d given her a blanket.

“Looking for more leverage, Snitch?”

She yawned. “It’s the middle of the night. Can we just have a cease-fire. Truce.”

“Truce?”

“I’ll be Story and you be Gray.”

I glared.

Everything said not to trust her, but when she stared up with wide eyes, stifling a yawn, my chest tugged to tell her the truth.

No, I don’t.

She yawned again at the same time her stomach growled, and she slammed her hands across it, like it would cover the sound.

I wondered when the last time she ate was. I hadn’t even fucking thought about it. Had she been feeding herself?

“Fine. Whatever. Truce.”

Her eyebrows shot into her head. “To be honest, after what happened…I thought you were going to, like, bastinado me.”

Bastinado.

Only Snitch would use a word like that. I smiled, because in the dark she couldn’t see.

Only Snitch? The fuck is wrong with me?

I rubbed my eye until I saw white.

“You have another chance to fix what you fucked tomorrow—or today, I guess. Another day, another party. If you fuck it up again…” I raked my gaze over her body, a brief part of me wanting her to fuck it up. I shook my head and rolled back onto my back, staring up at my chandelier.

A few more minutes passed, Snitch tossing and turning. I opened my mouth to tell her to get up on the bed, but stopped. What the fuck was happening to me? Snitch was a means to an end.

Nothing more.

Snitch finally settled down, and for a second I thought she’d fallen asleep; then her quiet, husky voice drifted into the dark.

“I don’t know how you can…do…the things you do to me…and also be with Lottie.”

“What things have I done to you, Snitch? I remember you getting off on my leg.” I shifted, adjusting my dick.

“That was…I…you started it.”

“But you finished.”

Snitch inhaled sharply, and I drew my lip between my teeth, trying to stop another fucking smile.

“You’re twisting everything,” she finally said.

I closed my eyes. I could fall asleep to her voice. Like good, clean whiskey. Smoky and sweet. The kind I used to steal from my dad.

“Whatever things I do to you don’t concern her.”

She scoffed. “I guess Playboy Gray is somewhat accurate.”

I opened my eyes and rolled over, glaring down at her. “Am I supposed to be faithful to the idea of someone? Lottie is probably fucking someone as we speak.”

I grimaced and rolled back.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” I exhaled. “We aren’t together. Lottie has no idea she’s getting married, much less to me.”