Tattoo

by Cambria Hebert

  Brody trailed light kisses across my cheek, to the corner of my eye, and then to the tip of my nose. I sighed as he levered himself above me, balancing his weight on his arms, and then he started to move.

  He wasn’t gentle, but it didn’t hurt. Over and over again he speared me with what could only be described as an unyielding sword. Every single plunge he made had me crying out and begging for more.

  I couldn’t think of anything other than the way it felt as he drove inside me.

  Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, he pushed so deep our pelvis bones ground together. My insides quivered as he began to grind against me, keeping himself buried to the hilt.

  My breath came in short gasps until I was literally panting with need.

  Brody’s body went rigid and a cry ripped from his throat. He pushed up inside me even farther, and I was sure I felt the tip of his length brush against the bottom of my belly. With one final swivel of his hips, an orgasm burst through me and I cried out, unable to form a single word, not even his name.

  I don’t know how long I floated between bliss and reality, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even realize my body was capable of those kinds of feelings, that pleasure like this even existed.

  Eventually, he collapsed onto the mattress beside me but rolled and pulled me into his body. The sticky warmth he left between my legs coated my thighs, but I was in no hurry to get up and wipe it away. If anything, I liked the way it felt.

  In fact, there wasn’t one thing about Brody West that I didn’t like.

  19

  Brody

  Holy. Freaking. Hell.

  This one time, I went to a club and was dragged by triplets (okay, I went willingly) into the private owner’s section in the back.

  Three smoking-hot, identical, dark-haired sexual wizards.

  They did things to my body that I still dreamed about today. I mean, think about it: three mouths, three sets of hands, and three overeager ladies willing and ready to do anything to please me.

  It was the best sexual experience of my entire life.

  Until now.

  How this single girl could outdo three women (at once!) was not something to be taken lightly. She was a siren. She was a witch… Just how much experience did this little vixen have?

  The thought made my blood run cold. It actually made me angry, turned my insides rigid. The thought of her doing any of this to anyone else made me see red. I would murder him.

  I moved quickly, the thought literally taking over my brain and fueling me on. I rolled, pinning her to the mattress and giving her a solid stare. “I need to know something.”

  Her eyes widened and she nodded.

  “How many have there been before me?”

  Her perfect little mouth opened in an O. Wariness seeped into her eyes, and I fought the urge to scowl.

  Forget every respectful thought I previously had about her father.

  He should have kept a better eye on her. Someone like her practically needed constant supervision.

  “Why would you ask me that?” she said, a little wrinkle appearing between her brows.

  “I need to know,” I ground out. Just lying on her like this was making my cock stir with renewed desire. Even anger at someone else’s hands on her wasn’t enough to keep my manhood from swelling from her closeness.

  Her eyes turned shiny and she looked away. “Was it that bad for you?”

  She sucked in a breath as the hurt in her voice socked me in the gut. “What?” I asked incredulously. She couldn’t possibly think I hadn’t enjoyed that.

  “I’m not very experienced. I—” she began, her voice tearful, her eyes still turned away.

  Relief like no other poured through me. But so did regret. I hadn’t meant to hurt her with my question. I caught her chin and turned her face so I could look into her eyes. “Stop right there,” I said gently. “This was by far the best I’ve ever had. You are the best I’ve ever had.”

  “Really?” she whispered.

  God, her vulnerability was going to be my undoing. I’d never in all my years ever met a woman so capable of tying me up in the most impossible knots. She was a tomboy yet girly. She was rich, but not spoiled. She was inexperienced but made me insane with need.

  “I didn’t mean to make you think I wasn’t satisfied, sweetheart,” I murmured, stroking the hair away from her face. “I’ve never been so satisfied, and it’s made me crazy.”

  The emerald of her eyes shone a little as I spoke.

  “The thought of you doing that with anyone else… Well, I won’t lie. It’s got me thinking about murder.”

  She giggled like my confession of wanting to kill was something she was charmed by.

  “How many, Tay?” I asked again. I had to know.

  “A few.” She hedged. “But it’s never been like this.”

  “Never?”

  She shook her head. “The first was in high school. We had no idea what we were doing and it really wasn’t that great.” She made a face like she was grossed out, and it pleased me to no end. “The second was in college, but the only time he ever wanted to do it was when he was drunk… It sort of made me feel like I wasn’t that attractive when he was sober.”

  “Douche,” I muttered. “He was probably gay.”

  She laughed and her belly vibrated against my chest. It made me smile.

  “And then there was someone a couple years ago… We might have been more serious, but when my mother died, I pulled away. I just didn’t have it in me to be in a relationship at that time in my life.”

  “Makes sense,” I whispered, rubbing my thumb across her lower lip.

  “And now there’s you.”

  “I’m the best,” I said, cocky. Now that I knew there was no one I needed to kill, I felt a lot better.

  “You definitely are.” She agreed.

  I kissed her deeply and lay back down, taking her with me.

  I felt her stiffen a little and I realized I likely tugged her arm. I sat up and stared down, lifting the bandaged area and checking it to make sure nothing was wet, bleeding, or coming loose.

  “It stayed almost completely dry,” she said.

  “How long’s it been since you’ve had your pain meds?”

  “Since this morning.”

  I frowned. After all the movement and activity at the lake and then here in bed, she needed to rest it. She needed her meds and that sling back in place. If she kept moving around this much, it was going to get even sorer and take longer to heal. I pulled away. “Come on. We need to get you taken care of.”

  She made a sound of protest. “I don’t wanna get up.”

  I grinned lazily. “There’s more where that came from.” I leaned down and kissed her. “But what the hell kind of man would I be if I neglected my girl’s wounds?”

  “Your girl?” she said, looking up at me from amongst the twisted blankets and sheets.

  I’d never claimed anyone as solely mine before. I never really cared. But claiming her was as natural as breathing. I didn’t even have to think about it.

  She was like finally finding home.

  I hooked my hand around her ankle and slowly towed her across the bed toward me. “Yeah, mine.”

  “Does that mean you’re mine?”

  “Do you want me?” The question kind of ripped from my throat, like it was sticky. It was hard to put myself out there like that, to practically lay out my vulnerabilities at her feet.

  “I want you very much,” she whispered, reaching out her hand.

  I took it and towed her up onto her feet, bringing her naked, luscious body against mine. I flattened my palm against the back of her head and hugged her against me. I wasn’t sure how this happened. How I went from a solitary man to a guy who needed someone else.

  And I did need her.

  In the beginning, I might have felt the weight of responsibility by having her around, but nothing about her now seemed heavy. If anything, she made me feel lighter.

 
It was a little unsettling for this to happen so fast.

  She laughed and pulled back. “Your stomach is growling like an angry bear.”

  I grabbed her ass. “I worked up an appetite.”

  Taylor rolled her eyes and pulled away. “Let’s get dressed and go down to the kitchen.”

  My chest swelled with some sort of strong emotion as I watched her hips sway into the bathroom. Yes, things between Taylor and me definitely moved fast.

  I thought about applying the brakes, about slowing things down.

  From inside the bathroom, she dropped something and called herself an idiot. I smiled.

  To hell with brakes.

  The blow-dryer kicked on, and I unzipped my duffle to find some clothes. On top of the pile was my cell phone. I forgot to turn up the volume when we came inside. I picked it up and lit up the screen. A missed call flashed in front of me so I pulled up the info and hit redial.

  “Newman,” the man answered after only one ring.

  “It’s West. Sorry I missed your call before.”

  “Not a problem. I just wanted to let you know that we brought in Snake about an hour ago.”

  “Fucking right,” I said happily. “He being booked now?”

  “Yeah, then we’ll put him in lockup.”

  “Hey, man, I appreciate the call. Thanks for bringing him in. Good work.”

  After we disconnected the call, I tossed the phone and reached for a pair of clean boxer briefs. I thought about the fact I should be on Emerald Isle right now, fishing. I should be sitting in the sand with nothing to think about other than what to eat for dinner.

  How quickly things could change.

  After the bust at the gas station went down, I still planned to get the hell out of town for my two-week vacation. I didn’t plan on thinking about the job or where I was going to live. But all that changed when I stepped into Taylor’s hospital room and realized I couldn’t just walk away from her.

  And now here I was, thinking about getting a place of my own, about sticking around and figuring out what my life looked like without a second identity.

  That is if I lived long enough for any of that.

  Now that word was out about my undercover identity, members of the crew, people from my past, were going to come looking for me, and they weren’t gonna want to have dinner and a movie. They would come with the hopes of putting me in a grave.

  The blow-dryer in the bathroom clicked off and Taylor’s soft humming drifted out into the bedroom.

  Her father asked me to be here to protect her. It’s why I came.

  But now my presence could be nothing but dangerous.

  I thought about that as I yanked on a pair of jeans and a navy-blue T-shirt from Old Navy. The wound in my side was sore and I glanced down, remembering that the bandage covering the stitches hadn’t stayed dry in the tub. I grabbed one corner of the bandage and ripped it off in one sweeping motion. The skin burned, but I ignored it.

  After I made sure the stitches themselves looked okay, I discarded the bandage and let my shirt fall over it. Band-Aids were a pain in the ass and I was tired of wearing one.

  Taylor stepped into the room and lightly padded over toward the bed. She was dressed in a pair of darkly colored jeans that molded to her every curve. Her T-shirt was dark purple, loose, and had a large teal-colored peace sign on the front. Her long, red locks were dry and tangle free. The straight strands hung way down to the middle of her back and seemed to capture and reflect light with every move she made. It was tucked casually behind her ears, almost like the way she looked was an afterthought.

  As I stared, she lifted up the scattered blankets near the end of the bed and reached for her sling.

  “Here,” I said, taking it from her hands and fastening it around her. Very gently, I helped her guide her arm into the contraption and then made sure it was adjusted to fit her body.

  When I was done, she looked up and smiled.

  My fingers found hers, intertwining and leading her from the room.

  Yeah, my presence was dangerous to her. But I spent the last several years of my professional life walking away from people who would be better off without me. It was isolating and in some ways made me feel like the person I had been was slowly evaporating until there would be nothing left. Then one day I would look in a mirror and see nothing but a stranger.

  I was tired of doing that. I didn’t want to be a threat to Taylor’s safety, but I didn’t want to give her up either.

  I needed to do some damage control.

  20

  Taylor

  I couldn’t stop watching him. Everything about the way he moved enticed me. The way his fingers wrapped around the end of the fork reminded me what they felt like on my skin. The way his lips closed over the food and the little moan of appreciation from his throat made me think about what it had been like to lie beneath his naked body.

  “Am I gonna need to feed you again?” he said, not looking away from his heaping plate of French toast bake. The affection in his voice warmed me better than any cup of coffee ever could.

  “I’m not really that hungry,” I said, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. I hadn’t eaten in hours, but I was thoroughly satisfied.

  After shoving another humungous bite of food into his mouth, he dropped the fork, allowing it to clatter against the plate. Then he spun on the stool he was sitting on to face me. Gently, he pulled the coffee mug out of my hands and set it aside. His arm brushed the inside of my leg when he grasped the edge of the stool and dragged it across the floor, bringing my chair right up against his.

  Keeping his eyes on me, he lifted my legs so they were spread and rested on either side of his hips and he was right between my thighs. “How’s a man supposed to get anything done when his woman stares at him with desire written all over her face?” he asked softly, delving his fingers into my hair and pulling me in for a kiss.

  He tasted like syrup, sweet and sinful. I licked into his mouth and the flavor of cinnamon burst over my tongue. His mouth was warm and giving, making me feel wanted and welcome.

  As we kissed, he pulled his fingers through my hair, winding a few strands around his hand and rubbing a thumb along my collarbone. I’d never felt so connected to anyone in my entire life. It didn’t feel as if we’d just met, but that I’d known him for years. He wasn’t the kind of guy I ever thought I would get involved with, but the more time I spent with him, I realized he was exactly the kind of guy I needed.

  Brody was the kind of guy who would challenge me. He wasn’t predictable like the numbers I worked with on a daily basis. He was a math equation without a definitive answer. He was a dash of salt in my otherwise bland day.

  I didn’t know everything about him, I didn’t know what the future held for us, but I was looking forward to finding out.

  He pulled back and studied me with chocolate eyes. “I probably shouldn’t be here right now,” he said, brushing my hair behind my shoulder. “This is the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Why?” I curled my fingers into the hem of his T-shirt.

  “I’m putting you in danger, Tay. Snake’s been running his mouth, probably telling everyone who would listen that I’m not who they thought I was. I’m going to have a target on my back. They’re going to come after me. The only thing worse than a cop is a cop who pretends to be one of their own.”

  Concern squeezed my chest, but it wasn’t concern for myself. It was for him. I realized then that dating a cop, being with someone who was constantly in harm’s way, wasn’t going to be easy. I would wonder about him every day, if he was safe, if he would come home to me.

  He placed a finger beneath my chin and forced my gaze up. “Hey,” he said quietly. “I’ll leave. I’ll walk out of here right now if that’s what you want.”

  “Would it really be so easy for you?” I whispered, an ache in my chest. Yes, it had only been days since he pretty much crashed into my life, but even so, if he walked away, I wou
ld feel his absence profoundly.

  “No,” he answered. “But staying here and hurting you would be worse.”

  This is how I knew he was the kind of man I needed. He was giving me a choice. He wasn’t making a decision about us without me. And if I asked him to leave, he would because he would respect what I wanted. My fingers tightened in his shirt, tugging the fabric across his back and pulling him closer. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  Brody untangled my hand from his shirt and lifted it to press a kiss to the palm of my hand before wrapping it up in his own.

  Was it possible to want someone just minutes after you had them? Was it possible that the warmth sliding through my abdomen was renewed desire? Lust was a powerful emotion, and it was obvious I lusted after Brody.

  Outside of the kitchen, I heard a key in the door, the lock slide free, and it push open. Brody stiffened, all his attention going to the doorway between the room we were sitting in and the small entryway off the garage.

  Seconds later, my father walked in, his tie slightly askew and a briefcase in his hand.

  “Hi, Dad,” I said, and he looked up, surprise written on his face. He gave me a warm smile that quickly faded as he took in the close proximity of Brody and me.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, giving Brody a pointed look.

  Brody pretended he didn’t see it and kept himself exactly where he was. It pleased me. Not because I wanted to disrespect my father in his own house, but because I liked that Brody wasn’t intimidated by him. Too many guys were scared away by the prospect of dealing with an overprotective, resource-rich father.

  “I’m feeling good,” I said, getting down from the stool to go around the island. “Can I make you a sandwich?”

  “That would be great,” he said, finally looking away from Brody and setting his briefcase on the counter. “I didn’t have time to eat today.”

  I busied myself getting out everything I needed to make ham and turkey sandwiches, and my father busied himself questioning Brody.