Embraced in Ink

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  She wasn't talking to him about anything. She was focusing on work, but they weren't mentioning the fact that they were engaged. They had no plans other than that they would figure it out. And it was getting to the point where he felt like they were playing make-believe rather than living in a real relationship. And perhaps that was the problem. What if this was just a dream, something fake to play with like a promise when they were kids? Rather than something authentic.

  The fact that he didn't know the answer to that worried him.

  "Okay, I guess it's my turn," Holland said, standing up.

  "All right. But you're going to kick ass at this," Aaron said, clapping his hands in front of him.

  "Holland, baby, you can't let Aaron beat us," Ethan said, grinning at his woman.

  Marcus snorted.

  "Oh, Aaron and I are going to kick your ass. Lincoln's, too. I mean, I love you both, but mama's going to win."

  Marcus snorted and reached out to squeeze Bristol's knee. She smiled at him, but it didn't reach her eyes. Damn it, they needed to fucking talk. The time for figuring out exactly where they started and how they were going to make this work had long since passed. This wasn't the bright sparkle of a new relationship or whatever the fuck people called it these days, this was real, and they needed a fucking plan. No more sweeping it under the rug and pretending that they knew what they were doing. Clearly, they did not.

  He kept telling himself there was no going back, but maybe there needed to be. If he didn't look back, he was terrified there would be no moving forward. And that scared him more than anything. As it should.

  "Okay, get ready for me to beat your ass," Holland said.

  Marcus didn't even have to look in the trio's direction to know that they were giving each other heated looks while Liam and Aaron both covered their faces with their hands, and Arden and Bristol laughed.

  "I don't need to know these things," Bristol said. She looked over at Marcus. "Why aren't you wincing?"

  He tried to study her face but could only see the Bristol he knew and loved. "Sorry, how dare you guys talk about charades in front of your poor baby sister."

  "That's not what I meant, dork." She elbowed him in the gut, but it didn't hurt.

  He knew this was only a game, but it felt like more. So, they would play, they would laugh, and he'd try to understand where exactly things with him and Bristol were going wrong.

  * * *

  Arden and Liam won charades. Marcus still couldn’t quite believe it. Sweet little Arden with her innocent little face and her quiet and broody Montgomery just happened to kick all of their asses.

  “It’s a sham, I tell you, a complete sham,” Bristol said, tapping her foot to the beat of the music in the car.

  Marcus looked over at her before turning a corner. “I don’t know. I think it’s always the quiet ones.”

  “But you’re my quiet one. We always win.”

  “I think it’s because you’re competitive as fuck,” Marcus said honestly.

  “You’re secretly competitive, too.”

  “I will never beat you, and I’m perfectly fine with that. However, I think Arden and Liam came to win.

  “And we didn’t?” she asked, her voice soft.

  “I don’t know. Maybe they just had a good night.”

  “And we had a bad one.”

  There was an awkward silence there, and Marcus didn’t like it. They never had awkward silences. At least not until recently. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he figure out what he wanted?

  Did he want things to go back to the way they were? He didn’t think so. But he needed what they had to move forward. He was tired of waiting. It felt like he’d been doing that for his entire life.

  Waiting to become who he needed to be.

  Waiting for Bristol to come back.

  Waiting to see how she felt about him once the colored lenses of their romance and what they had promised each other fell away.

  The idea that, somehow, they had been playing make-believe this entire time should have hurt, but he couldn’t let it. Because if he didn’t fight for what he wanted, if he didn’t tell her how he felt, then what was the point? And what was the point of wanting Bristol to tell him what he wouldn’t even tell her? It made him a fucking hypocrite, that’s what.

  They made their way back to her house.

  “I’m tired. I didn’t realize that playing silly games would do that to me.”

  “I don’t think it’s only the games. You’ve been practicing your ass off recently.”

  Bristol winced. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to get these last songs down for the album, then the tour is coming up, and it’s all so much at once. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

  Marcus moved closer and opened his arms so she could fit against his chest. She slid into his hold, wrapping her arms around his waist as she rested her head on his upper chest. She tucked into him, and he loved it.

  But she’d always been there. Before he started to let his feelings change, they had always touched like this.

  That was why it was so hard for him to truly discern if this was what she wanted, or if she just didn’t know what else there was.

  She had so much going for her, why would she want to stay home with someone who didn’t like to leave the nest? He had his dreams, and he was working on them. But they didn’t go to the same places that hers did. And that was only one part of the problem.

  And it worried him. It truly fucking did. But he didn’t know what he was supposed to do about it. Other than be here for her.

  And hope to hell she was there for him.

  “I’m just tired. I know it’s going to get worse on the long tour, and I’m trying to juggle so much.” She leaned back, looking at his face. “But I’m glad that I have you. You know? That you’re always here. No matter what. And I’m not alone.”

  He nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Yeah. I’m glad I’m always here, too.”

  He hoped there wasn’t any bitterness in that. Because there shouldn’t be. He was far from bitter when it came to her. Because while he joked that he was always left behind, he liked where he was. He loved the fact that they had their own lives. And in the end, they always came back together.

  He hadn’t let himself think about what they could be for long enough that he had hidden it even from himself for all these long years.

  But fuck, he loved her. Fucking loved her.

  Yet why couldn’t he say the words?

  He was as bad as she was. Unable to say the words because he was too damn scared. What would happen once he lost her?

  He didn’t have the answers to that, so he didn’t even broach the subject. Once again, he was that fucking asshole.

  “Hey, I just realized I never gave you your birthday present,” he said, trying to change the subject. And in the end, if he gave her her present, even if it didn’t turn out, it was showing her a part of himself.

  And as he thought about it, he wondered how the hell he had buried his head in the sand for so long. Because he knew exactly how much he loved her. Had put that into her gift.

  And yet, he had told himself it was because they were friends. Because they always had each other’s backs.

  How idiotic was he, indeed?

  “Oh, yeah. I thought your gift was yourself.” She grinned, and he knew she wasn’t that far off.

  Because, in a way, that was the truth.

  “Partially. But I’m not that egocentric.”

  “Well, you have a right to be sometimes. I’m just saying.”

  “You flatter me.” He tapped her butt and then moved her into her studio.

  “What are we doing in here?”

  “Well, it’s your gift.” He had left his guitar over here the day before when he practiced with her. She had wanted someone to play with, even though he was nowhere near her skill, but she had needed someone else in the room so she could focus and let out tension. And he’d needed to do the same in terms of s
tress because of his work, and frankly, his feelings for her.

  “Here is your gift.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Are you going to play for me? I love it when you play for me.”

  “I wrote you something. But, if you hate it, lie to me.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and he held back a wince.

  “What?”

  “You wrote me a song?” she asked, wiping her cheeks.

  “Don’t cry. I haven’t even started playing yet. When you realize how bad I truly am, then you can cry.”

  “No, you do not get to do that, Marcus. You wrote me a song.”

  “You still haven’t heard it yet. Give it time.”

  “Okay. I promise I will. I’m just so excited.” She sat down on the chair in front of him as he picked up the guitar and found his way.

  She was still crying as he slowly began the song, his voice deep, a little rough as he sang.

  He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. But he hoped the words told her what he felt. Because he wasn’t sure how to do so in any other way. Music was how Bristol spoke, how she connected with the world, so maybe this would be a connection for them both. Or maybe he saw far too much into it. He honestly didn’t know.

  He kept singing, words about who she was, and how he felt. He had written this song before he let himself love her. Before he let himself think about who they could be together.

  When he finished, he looked up to see Bristol on her knees in front of him, tears running down her cheeks as she leaned against him.

  “So,” he said, clearing his throat, “I guess you liked it?”

  “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” she said, hiccup-sobbing.

  He frowned.

  “No, it wasn’t. But thank you for thinking so.”

  “Stop it,” she whispered.

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop downplaying your talent. I know that this isn’t the thing that you’ve always wanted to do. I know it’s not your life like it is mine, but you are amazing. You put so much soul into that. Your soul. And I’m in awe.”

  “Really?” he said, not quite believing that. But the fact that she was crying might lend some credence to her statement.

  “So, I guess I’m going to have to one-up myself for your birthday next year,” he said, trying to keep his tone light.

  She smiled then, her eyes bright, and then rose up on her knees so she could kiss him. He lowered his head, moving the guitar out of the way, and kissed her softly.

  “I think you’re going to have to work hard because that was pretty amazing.”

  Marcus grinned. “Well, I guess that was kind of stupid of me, wasn’t it?”

  Her phone buzzed, and she frowned, looking at the readout before hitting ignore.

  “Who was it?” Marcus asked, worried at the look on her face.

  “Nobody.”

  Marcus was silent for a moment, staring at her.

  She rolled her eyes. “Colin. He wants to go on that tour and to write something together on my album, even though we aren’t planning on it. He’s annoying me, but I also know that my agent sort of wants us to work together. We sell better together, and they’re throwing around the idea of making a single for charity.”

  She crossed her eyes, but Marcus frowned.

  “You’d still work with him, then?” There wasn’t jealousy sliding through him, not really, but he wasn’t excited about the idea of her and Colin working so closely together either.

  “It’s freaking annoying, but I might have to. If it’s for charity? I don’t know if I could say no to that just because he sometimes annoys me.”

  “Only sometimes?” Marcus asked, still sitting while she was on her knees. He kind of liked that, even though he didn’t say it aloud.

  “Okay, a lot of the time. But, occasionally he’s great. And he’s a fantastic piano player. One of the best of our time, and I have to remember that when we’re working together.”

  “Being really good at something doesn’t give you an excuse to be an asshole.”

  “That is true. And I don’t let him get away with it. You’ve seen me. I tell him right to his face that he’s being an asshole and that he needs to stop. And he’s not always that bad. I mean, he has been a little clingy recently, but I think that’s only because he assumed we were going on tour together. And now that we aren’t, he’s scrambling a bit.”

  “Scrambling?” Marcus asked, not liking the sound of that.

  “Oh, he’s going to get his tour settled soon, but I think he kind of assumed that I would be doing all the work for this one like I usually do.”

  “See? Still a fucking asshole,” Marcus said.

  “You’re right. However, I’m not going to deal with it tonight. Tonight, I am going to stay right here for my birthday gift.” Her eyes darkened, and Marcus grinned.

  “Oh?” he asked.

  “Oh,” she said, and then her hands went to his belt.

  He helped her undo his pants, slowly sliding them down a bit, and when she gripped his cock through his underwear, he swallowed hard.

  “Dear God, woman. You’re going to kill me.”

  “I promise I’ll be good,” she said, licking her lips.

  “Okay, just don’t be that good,” he said, laughing.

  “Never.” Then she squeezed him at the base before slowly pulling him out of his boxer briefs.

  When she slid her hand up and down his length, he let out a groan, tangling his fingers in her hair.

  “You know, I was thinking earlier that I liked you on your knees, but I didn’t want to be that guy.”

  Bristol looked up, laughter in her eyes. “Considering I’m about to have your dick in my mouth, you’re welcome to be that guy. Remember, you’re going to have to reciprocate at some point. Because I like it when you’re on your knees.”

  “I can totally do that.”

  And then Marcus couldn’t think anymore because her mouth was on his dick, her warmth encasing the head of him to the point that his eyes crossed, and he groaned, his hands tightening in her hair. She licked up the base, and then dove her tongue at the crease on the top, lapping up the precum.

  She had one hand on his thigh, the other on his length, squeezing the base, and she couldn’t swallow all of him.

  Her head bobbed, her mouth warm, the suction so fucking good he knew if he weren’t careful, he’d come right there down her throat.

  She laughed at him, sucking and moving faster, her hands squeezing. Her other hand dug into his thigh, her nails sharp points, and he loved it, wanting more.

  He was about to blow, so he pulled her off him and went down to his knees in front of her, tossing the chair back, careful not to hurt anything else in the room. His lips were on hers as she opened her mouth to speak, and he tangled his tongue with hers, forcing her head back to deepen the kiss. He slid his hand up her front, squeezing her breast, and then the other, and she arched into him, clearly wanting more. When he pulled back, she gasped. “Marcus, I wasn’t done yet.”

  “Yeah, you are, because I want to fuck you hard right here in your favorite place in the house. And that means I can’t come down that pretty throat.”

  “Fine, but next time, I’m swallowing.” She winked, and Marcus laughed before kissing her again and then pushing her to her back. He had her pants off in an instant, and then her shirt, too. Somehow, she was naked in front of him, and he tugged off his shirt, his pants only halfway down, but he didn’t care. Because he was kneeling in front of her, his head between her thighs. He pushed up the back of her thighs so her knees were near her shoulders, and then he was lapping at her, licking, sucking. She screamed his name as he sucked on her clit, needing more. His tongue dove, and he sucked, his teeth scraping a little. And when she came, her whole body shaking, he kept eating her out, wanting her even closer to the edge.

  He went up to his knees and stroked his cock, wondering where the hell he had put that condom.

  Brist
ol looked up at him again, her hands on her breasts.

  “We already took the test. We’re both clean. Now, get inside me.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, squeezing his dick so that he wouldn’t come at the thought of being in her bare.

  “I have an IUD. Now, get in me.”

  They had talked about this, the only thing in the future they had honestly talked about, and now they were right here, the moment everything.

  He lowered himself over her, his mouth on hers, and then he plunged deep. She screamed, her legs wrapping around his waist as her inner walls tightened like a vise around his dick.

  And then he moved, in and out, slowly at first, and then he was pounding inside of her, her fingernails raking down his back to the point he knew they would leave marks. He kissed her hard and then sucked on her throat, and then the valley between her breasts. He pinched at her nipples, squeezing her, and he knew he would leave little marks, like both of them liked. And when he reached between them, his thumb over her clit, she shattered, her voice hoarse as she screamed, and he pounded into her again, harder, until they were both in ecstasy, oblivion taking them.

  He came with a roar, filling her up as he slammed into her once more, and then they were both shaking, holding onto one another, neither of them able to move.

  He petted her, unable to do anything else, knowing that they were only denying the inevitable.

  Did songs and actions matter more than words? He didn’t know, because she spoke with music, she moved with it, so maybe she understood what he felt.

  But he had no idea what she felt. And he was so afraid that this wasn’t real. That he would wake up one day and realize that everything they’d had before had turned to ash, and what they had now was meaningless.

  But he ignored that thought for a moment and let himself breathe, let himself hold her.

  Because the time for decisions would come soon, but for now, all he wanted was her. And he let himself believe.

  Chapter 16

  Bristol looked down at her day planner and rubbed her temples. She needed more sleep, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Weddings were coming up, though not hers because she and Marcus hadn’t spoken about it. That should worry her, and it did a bit, but for now, she was more focused on the other weddings in the family. Plus, a few of her cousins were about to pop with their next babies, so there were baby showers, wedding showers, birthday parties, and a few of the kids were now getting older, so she wanted to be part of their lives, too.