King's Barber by M. D. Gregory

Author:M. D. Gregory [Gregory, M. D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Gay / Lesbian / LGBT
Amazon: B091DK1X5J
Goodreads: 57880427
Published: 2021-04-29T22:00:00+00:00

9

Barber

The blinding light of the morning sun flashed in my eyes, making me blink awake with a groan. I grabbed my pillow and jammed it over my head, cursing the headache that throbbed from my injury. I should have brought the painkillers upstairs with me last night, but my focus had been on getting Quain into bed and fucking him into oblivion. It didn’t happen on the bed the first few times, but I wasn’t complaining. The sex was the best I’d had in who the fuck knew how long. Too long.

“Flaccid ham.” The quiet murmur had me throwing the pillow to the side. I pushed myself up on my elbow and stared down at Quain. His eyes were closed but his mouth was moving, whispering things I couldn’t hear. A few times he spoke loud enough, though. “The Aussies want my flaccid ham.”

I grunted out a quiet laugh. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll protect your meat from the mean Aussies.”

“Mean Aussies,” he whispered, groaning as he shuffled to his side, his face close to my arm. “They’re as bad as the Kiwis.”

I laughed louder and smothered it with my hand. Fuck. Did Quain have any idea he talked in his sleep? I guessed he did because obviously KC knew. He hadn’t believed me when I’d told him before, though. The talking was the cutest damn thing I’d ever seen, and I wished I had my phone on me so I could record it, but it was downstairs with the painkillers.

Groaning, I rolled off the bed and sat on the edge, touching the back of my head. Grant had finished cleaning it up before he’d stitched it, which meant there was no blood, but the cut still hurt like a bitch. Muttering about the stupid-ass fucker who’d attacked me, I shoved myself to my feet and strolled into Quain’s fancy walk-in closet. I grabbed a pair of sweatpants big enough to fit and pulled them on before I picked up a shirt, too. When I was mostly dressed, I pissed in his toilet before heading downstairs.

I yawned as I checked my phone. There was only one message from King, asking if I was okay, so I replied with a thumbs-up. Walking around the kitchen island, I grabbed a glass and opened the fridge to check what Quain had in there. I chose orange juice and filled my cup before I took a long swig.

“Ah, that hit the spot.”

The sound of banging had me turning, and I yanked open the curtains above the sink to check out back. The garage door was open a sliver and the sounds were coming from there. Taking my juice with me, I headed for the door just off the kitchen, grabbing a jacket hanging on a hook near the doorframe on the way past, and stepped outside into the cold fall morning.

KC was inside the garage, sitting down next to a Harley, his body curved forward as he used a monkey wrench to tighten a bolt near the engine.

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