Page 87 of More Tricks

That had me snapping my gaze to my Latin lover. “Or anyone else… right?” I asked, the warning clear in my tone.

“Loba, if we make it obvious like we did earlier in the pool, then we can’t avoid the subject coming up entirely,” Cognac pointed out. “You saw that already with the agents.”

“Then you just end the conversation like I did,” I reasoned. “Let them wonder what you did to get those kinds of sounds out of me. I'm sure it will be just as fulfilling for them as they rub one out.”

Cognac chuckled. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure if I found out someone was thinking about you while they jacked off, I’d remove it.”

“Then we stick with the plan not to allow any talk of our sex life,” Picasso decided. “If we hear them talking, we squash it. As the leadership of the Phantom Saints, they can just deal with it and find their own woman to think about.”

Everyone agreed, and that awkward conversation was brought to a close.

“How about we watch a movie?” I asked, feeling how tired my body was but knowing my brain wasn’t going to let me sleep.”

“First, we clean up the kitchen. Just because Eagle isn’t here to kick our asses doesn’t mean we don’t do business as usual,” Sprocket interjected. “Then we can watch a movie.”

Chapter four

Dax

At some point during the movie, I drifted off to sleep, and when I woke, I found myself curled around Picasso in a room I hadn’t seen before. There were skylights to let in tons of natural light on one half of the space where a whole art studio we set up. An easel stood with a canvas on it that had the beginnings of a painting splashed over its stark white color. Next to it was a table full of paints, brushes, and other art supplies.

Where we were sleeping was up on a loft platform, allowing there to be more room for the studio portion of the space. Picasso was still passed out on his stomach. His was turned toward me with an arm flung across my waist, so I reached out and brushed the hair out of his face, noticing it had gotten pretty long on top, the sunlight showing the hits on red in the deep brown color.

The black and gray tattoos that ran down the length of the arm over my stomach stood out against the black shirt I was wearing. Slowly, I let my finger trace the designs, taking in all the details of his artwork he had placed there. Eventually, I was gonna need him to draw me something and have Wes tattoo it on me. Picasso’s talent deserved to be forever on my body, always keeping a piece of him close. When I reached his hand, I lifted it to my mouth and kissed the back of it.

“Someone’s rather adorable for so early in the morning,” Picasso mumbled as he pulled out of my hold and used his hand to tug me against his chest. “Did you sleep well, spitfire?”

“I must have because I didn’t wake up until just now,” I answered. “When my body decides it’s time to get up, I’m not quite so grumpy. It's when others do it that the bitchy side of Dax comes out.”

Picasso huffed. “Right, that’s the only thing that does it.”

“Hey now, don’t ruin the moment,” I scolded as I snuggled into him, tucking my head under his chin. “Do you think there will ever be a day that’s normal for us when this is all over?” I asked.

“Guess it depends on what you think is normal,” he countered. “Personally, I think normal is boring. Could I go for less danger to those around us, yeah, but I don’t think life with you around is ever going to be what others consider normal,” he added.

I took a deep breath and let it out again. “Damn, I knew you were going to stay something like that.”

“Do you really want things to be mundane, get a dog, settle down, and do the typical American dream?” Picasso asked, his voice full of curiosity.

Rolling onto my back, I looked at the sky with the puffy white clouds going by. “Some days I wonder what that would be like… then I remembered my childhood up until college. None of that was great either. Lots of heartache, loss, and experiences I never what to go through again. Now I have far more control over my life, making my own rules to live by no matter what anyone else thinks.”

“They why ask the question if you like your life?”

Turning my head, I looked in his hazel eyes and cupped his cheek. “Because it’s not just my life anymore. It's our life together, the seven of us. What worked for me alone isn’t going to fly with you guys. It's the reason you’re all so upset with me about yesterday. Or at least that's what I think all of you were trying to pound into my skull all night.”

Picasso leaned his forehead against mine, not saying anything for a moment, simply letting us be. Then his hand gripped the back of my head and pulled my lips to his. Our kiss was languid, full of reassurance, and enjoying the moment of being close to each other. I rolled and hitched my leg over his, just wanting to feel more of him. His other hand grabbed my ass and pulled me flush, no space left between us.

He rolled us over so I was on my back, and he straddled me, looking into my eyes, searching. “You really mean that, don’t you… that we’re a family?”

A grin tugged at my lips. “Did those words finally make it past the morning wood?”

“Don’t,” he pleaded, shaking his head. “Don’t pull back and use humor to shield yourself right now. You were so vulnerable a moment ago. Each time you show me a glimpse of you before Two Tricks, it vanishes in a second. Why won’t you let me know that part of Dax too?”

“Having you, all of you in my life makes me more vulnerable than I’ve ever been since I lost my twin. Devin was the other half of my soul, the part you still see a glimpse of. When the darkness of the world stole him from me, they also robbed me of my innocence. There are parts of you that remind me of him, and that’s when you see the old me appear, but just like my brother, there’s no getting back what's been taken from you.” I reached up and molded my hands around his face, letting the scruff of his beard he’d let fill in prickle my palms. “The fact you even catch a flash of that part of me should tell you how much you mean to me, Picasso.”

His lips captured mine once more, only this time it was more urgent, filled with the need. The two of us had been feeling the pull toward each other, but each time we’d get close, one of us would do something to piss the other off. We’ve shared intimate moments here and there, but something had been holding us back from taking the plunge.

For me, he reminded me of my twin, and I never wanted to face the feelings that came with that. Picasso was who my brother could have been and become with the right people behind him.