by Ranae Rose
He avoided looking at Hannah’s attacker; seeing him still made him mad, and he didn’t want his fury to show on his face.
The judge pushed a lock of silver hair behind her ear. Her glasses caught the light as she tilted her head, and the flash of reflective shine seemed to stretch on forever as she turned toward the jury.
“Will the jury foreperson please stand?”
A man stood.
“Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?”
“Yes.” The man’s face was unreadable. He didn’t look toward Ben.
Ben’s heart raced so fast it hurt. He tried to read the judge’s face as the jury foreman showed her the verdict, but he might as well have been staring down a professional poker player.
The judge gave the paper with Ben’s fate written on it back to the jury foreman, and there was finally nothing else to delay the announcement.
“The jury finds the defendant not guilty.”
Noise ceased to exist. Ben sat still and silent, aware of nothing but the verdict and the fact that his chest hurt, and his blood was roaring in his ears. He felt a hand on his shoulder – his lawyer’s.
Everything after that was a blur.
* * * * *
“Ben?” Hannah nudged him in the arm and grinned. It was either smile or give in to her emotions and sob happy tears onto her sandwich.
PMS combined with the emotional rollercoaster of Ben’s trial had put her through the wringer that day, and she’d been so deliriously happy, relieved and grateful at the end of the trial that she’d embarrassed herself by crying at the courthouse. Nobody had criticized her for it, but there was no way she was going to let it happen again.
“Yeah?” He turned in his seat to face her and returned her smile.
The sight melted her from the inside out and took the edge off her anxiety. After the verdict, he’d seemed shell-shocked and had said almost nothing. It’d been Dylan’s idea for them to all go get something to eat to celebrate.
Ben had asked her to choose a place, and she’d suggested cheesesteaks. She, Ben, Dylan, Crystal and Emily sat around a table at the Primanti Bros. where she and Ben had first met.
“You okay?”
He nodded. “It’s still settling in.”
She laid a hand on his shoulder and leaned in close, unable to resist pressing a kiss against his jaw. She was so happy, it was exhausting.
“I feel like the weight of the world is gone from my shoulders,” she said. “I think I could go home, crawl into bed and just lie there for days happy-crying.”
With her period approaching, it was probably true.
“I can think of a lot better things to do in bed than cry.” He smirked.
“Is that an invitation?”
“It’s a promise.” He turned his head so that their lips touched briefly, and a shiver raced down her spine.
Although she ached for more, she reined herself in before they could cause a scene in front of Emily, Dylan and Crystal.
“Hey,” he whispered before she could pull away, “you have something right here.”
He caressed her cheek lightly, and she raised her hand to the same spot, her face warming as she flashed back to their first meeting. “Really?”
He grinned. “No.”
She scowled.
“I was just reminiscing,” he said, gesturing toward the bar. “This brings back memories.”
“Embarrassing memories.” Her scowl broke as she succumbed to a reluctant smile.
“I don’t care what you say; I’m taking that memory to the grave.”
“And I’ll spend the rest of my life pretending we didn’t first meet while I was pigging out alone at a bar with cheese smeared on my face.” Although it made her laugh now, it was still far from her finest moment.
“Hey Ben,” Dylan said.
“Yeah?”
“Thursday’s chest day. You gonna make it to the gym tomorrow, or are you taking the day off?” He looked back and forth between Ben and Hannah like he doubted Ben would show.
“I’ll be there. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You don’t even look like you want to be here, man.”
Ben shook his head and picked up his sandwich. “You’re wrong. I just want to keep going like normal, like none of this ever happened.”
“I think we all do. It did happen though, and I hate that, but I think you’re better off for it.”
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
Ben’s tone was wry, but there was truth to what he’d said. He was stronger, more complex and more impossible not to love than Hannah had realized before all of this. His struggles – the threat of having him taken away – had left her with a poignant idea of how much she’d miss him if he was gone.
She wouldn’t ever take what they had, or the opportunity to be together, for granted. Unlike anyone from her past, she saw him at his true worth, and it was beyond measure – something beloved she’d fight for, if needed. The past months had shown her that true love could still hurt, but was worth it.
* * * * *
“I’m so glad you bought this thing,” Ben said, lying back on Hannah’s new bed.
She sat straddling his hips, completely naked. His gaze was riveted to every inch of her, and he didn’t know where to let it focus.
Her pussy and the swirl of dark hair above, her breasts, her inked arms and the long hair that spilled over her shoulders… It was all perfect.
She was perfect.
“Me too.”
He ran a hand up her inner thigh, stopping when his fingertips brushed the slick, hot folds of her pussy. His cock throbbed, standing hard, so close to being inside her.
When she gripped it by the base and positioned the head against her slit, he groaned, continuing as she sank down on him, burying his dick in wet heat and his mind in staggering pleasure.
He hadn’t realized what a difference fear of loss had made, until now. Now, the bliss of being inside her reached corners of his mind that’d been blocked off before, electrifying his senses on every wavelength. When she finished sinking down and gasped, the sound rippled through him, shocking him into action.
He fucked her hard, going deep, unable to hold back, even for the pleasure of watching her ride him. He went like that for a while, until her thighs were trembling and her breathing had no discernible pattern. Then he gripped her hips and rolled her over, settling between her thighs.
It felt so good to be there, he didn’t want it to end. But he’d be able to go back, again and again. There was no expiration date on the time they had together, only a dependence on mutual desire.
He believed what she’d said about wanting him – loving him – and not just because of the way she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.
The past months had challenged him in ways he didn’t ever want to revisit, but his desire for her presence in his life had never wavered. Instead, it’d made things worth doing, worth fighting for. And there’d been times when she’d given him the only pleasure he’d been able to feel.
When she came, he pressed his mouth against hers and reveled in the way she moaned as her pussy milked his cock, numbing his mind with sheer, animal delight.
He loved the feeling like he loved her: absolutely and without question or reservation. And it brought him to a pure and unmitigated state of gratification that nothing else could.
There was nothing wrong with him or what he was feeling at that moment. The way she cried out and clung to him as he poured himself into her screamed that it was as right as it felt.
The intense pleasure eventually ebbed, but left him with no regrets. No regrets and no fears, no shame.
“You’ll stay all night, right?” she asked, running a hand through his hair after he pulled out and lay down beside her.
“Yeah.” He rolled onto his side, then quickly rolled back as the ache over his ribs flared.
So much had happened that day that he still couldn’t remember t
he fresh tattoo. It’d been days, and now it hurt like a bruise when touched. He tried to avoid letting it rub on anything, not wanting to irritate it and risk damaging Hannah’s artwork.
She looked down at his side. “Just wait until it’s colored in – you’ll be back at the drawing board with healing, but it’ll be worth it. I can’t wait to see it finished on you.”
He gripped one of her hands. “Me neither. Only a few weeks.”
A few weeks, and after that, the tattoo would be something he’d love for life. Just like her.
Ink is forever. So is love.
Thank you for reading Beloved Ink.
Stay up to date with the entire Inked in the Steel City Series by visiting the Inked in the Steel City page at ranaerose.com anytime.
Other titles in the series…
Hot Ink (Book 1)
Innocent Ink (Book 2)
Dedicated Ink (Book 3)
Abiding Ink (Book 4)
Serious Ink (Book 5)
Irresistible Ink (Book 6)
Alluring Ink (Book 7)
Click a title to see in the Kindle Store.
Book 9 coming soon!
Read on for an excerpt from Officer Next Door, Book 1 in Ranae’s Lock and Key Series.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ranae Rose is the best-selling author of more than twenty adult romances and counting. Originally from Maryland, she grew up the daughter of a US Marine and always wanted to be a writer. Today she lives on the US East Coast with her man in uniform, young children, German Shepherd dogs and overflowing bookshelves. Writing and reading are lifelong passions that consume most of her time, and she’s always working on bringing her latest love story idea to life for readers.
www.ranaerose.com
Want Ranae’s latest book news, including updates on the Inked in the Steel City Series and access to subscribers-only giveaways?
Subscribe to Ranae’s monthly e-mail newsletter.
Connect with Ranae via…
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram
Keep reading for Chapter 1 of Officer Next Door, Book 1 in Ranae’s Lock and Key Series.
OFFICER NEXT DOOR
How can anyone resist temptation when it’s right next door?
Riley County North Carolina has a lot to offer: coastal views as far as the eye can see, and men in uniform who are even more gorgeous. Home to the most notorious prison in the state, Alicia’s new hometown is crawling with men who carry their own handcuffs and know how to use them – like Officer Liam Alexander, her one and only neighbor. After catching him out of uniform, she can’t resist pausing to enjoy the show. When Liam’s Southern charm drives him across the property line, life gets hotter than the Carolina summer could possibly account for. Unfortunately, there’s a dark side to life in the coastal haven, even with an officer next door.
Coordinating special events at a historic – and supposedly haunted – plantation is enough to have Alicia questioning her senses and her sanity, but the spirits of the past take a backseat to a pair of escaped convicts who blaze a trail of mayhem across Riley County. Not even the most intense chemistry can survive the perils that make a sunny seaside town a dangerous place to be after dark … can it?
Book 1 in the Lock and Key Series
CHAPTER 1
The rising sun burnt on the Carolina horizon like a jewel, causing the tidal mist to light up like it’d been set on fire. It was the most gorgeous thing Alicia had ever seen, besides her naked neighbor. The sight of him stripping down lit up the morning like nothing else could – not even the extra-bold, extra-large cup of coffee she clutched as she stared through her kitchen window.
Everything about him was extra-large, too. She, however, was anything but bold.
She’d die if he knew she’d been watching him like this for the past three weeks, ever since she’d moved in. Guilt surged through her system just like her daily caffeine infusion, but that didn’t keep her from enjoying the display, all that taut muscle and bare skin.
Not even close.
“Good Lord,” she sighed, to no one but herself. DC seemed faraway already; the big city had disappeared in her rearview mirror weeks ago to be replaced by real Southern heat and charm, two things her new neighbor radiated in spades.
Not that she’d spoken to him much yet.
There’d been the occasional hello when they glimpsed each other outside, usually coming to or from work. That was it, mostly because the sight of him in uniform had a way of leaving her tongue-tied, silenced by the guilty pleasure that struck her every time she looked in his direction. She couldn’t so much as glance at him without thinking about that uniform coming off in slow motion, revealing his perfect body.
Maybe it was his fault for not closing the bathroom blinds, the ones that hung over the window directly across from the shower.
Or maybe it was her fault for enjoying the striptease with her morning coffee day after day, saying nothing.
Either way, she wasn’t complaining. Close-cropped dark hair, sun-tanned skin stretched over a six foot frame of solid muscle and an ass that appeared to be sculpted from granite, not to mention the amazing view when his back wasn’t to her: the vision had been seared into her memory, and it stayed with her even after he slung a towel around his hips and strolled out of the bathroom, disappearing from her view.
That was her cue to gulp down the rest of her coffee and pull herself together before she rushed to the Wisteria Plantation House. She’d been hired there as the special events coordinator, had moved and reshaped her life around the new job, though as she drained her coffee mug, swallowing the bitter grit that swirled at the bottom of the cup, she was so dazzled by what she’d just seen that it was sure to be a challenge just to coordinate her hair and makeup for the day, let alone an outfit.
Despite the sexually-charged fog her neighbor had left her in, she managed to brush on some cosmetic staples, twist her chestnut hair into a simple chignon and shed her robe, pulling on khaki pants and a purple blouse. As she dressed, she pretended that the brush of her own fingertips against her skin didn’t inspire imaginings of what it’d be like to feel her neighbor’s hands on her body. Lastly, she slipped on sandals, a pair with modest kitten heels that’d allow her to navigate Wisteria’s grounds without breaking an ankle.
Or so she thought. When she finally walked out the door with her purse slung over her shoulder and a travel mug in one hand, she tripped over the threshold and was launched forward through the muggy Carolina air.
She windmilled, dropping her handbag but – miracle of miracles – managing to maintain her grip on her coffee.
The mug was a fancy one that remained sealed until one pressed a button, freeing the flow of liquid within. As she bent to pick up her purse and then straightened, quickly smoothing her clothing, she realized that the anti-spill mug was the best twenty dollars she’d ever spent.
Heat flooded her cheeks as she said a silent prayer of gratitude for spill-proof technology. Her neighbor was standing on the front porch of his bungalow-style house, a cute place painted a shade of moss-green that blended right into the wooded backdrop. Judging by the way he stared, frowning in her direction, he’d seen everything.
“Are you all right?” His voice echoed across the few yards between them, sounding with a depth that sent a frisson racing down her spine.
“Yes,” she called back, forcing herself to move, to descend the little flight of stairs that led down from her house, also bungalow-styled, but painted a fresh shade of blue that would’ve been invisible against a clear afternoon sky, had the towering pines not blocked out that particular view.
“You sure? You’re limping.”
Limping or not, she couldn’t stop staring. No longer naked, he was now just the opposite: covered from neck to toe in meticulously-ironed dark blue and black, his uniform gleaming here and there with flashes of metal – the silver shine of handcuffs and the badge he wore at his hip.
There was just
something about all that silver, giving her an excuse to let her gaze rove over his groin, sparking vivid memories and scorching heat.
Which brought up another thing: sometimes, during her little spying sessions, he was hard.
Whenever he got into the shower that way and stepped out minutes later cleaner and clearly softer, her mind went wild with visions of how he might’ve spent those ten minutes behind the shower curtain.
“You’re limping,” he repeated as he descended his own stairs, boots falling heavily against the boards, then crunching against gravel.
“Twisted my ankle a little,” she managed to say. “No big deal.”
As she took another step toward her car, a distinct unsteadiness in her gait warned her that the damage had gone beyond a twisted ankle: her shoe had been affected. In fact, it felt alarmingly as if one kitten heel was no longer there.
“Maybe you should slow down.” Instead of approaching his own vehicle, he came toward her. “Put some ice on it.”
“Can’t. I’ll be late for work.” She did her best to stand up straight, hiding the fact that her shoe was broken.
“Guess I haven’t properly introduced myself.” He was so close now she could see that his eyes were almost the same color as her house: a clear blue she was irresistibly attracted to. “Liam Alexander.” He held out a hand – a large hand she’d witnessed wrapping a towel around his naked body just half an hour ago.
Even his name was hot, and his baby blues weren’t his only stunning feature: his mouth was full and his jaw was strong, a curve of bone she could just imagine dusted with dark stubble, though he was clean-shaven for work. Up close, he didn’t look much older than her.
