"You were hanging upside down threatening to divorce me," Mayhem reminds her. "Chivalry wasn't really on the table."
I cover my mouth to hide a giggle, but even the small muscle movement makes my temples throb. I look up at Locke, who’s watching me with that warm, quiet intensity that always makes my pulse jump… even when I’m wearing a shirt three sizes too big and look like a half-dead rat.
"How are you so functional?" I ask him accusingly. "You went to bed long after midnight."
"I had one beer, baby," Locke says, leaning in close, his broad chest lightly brushing my shoulder. "Not half a gallon of slushy lime juice and tequila."
"It was medical," I insist weakly.
"Clearly," Locke says. He reaches out, his large hand wrapping around the back of my neck, his thumb rubbing slow, soothi
