by Meghan March
“And you thought lasagna would soften me up enough to make me okay with the fact that some rich fuck is blackmailing my girlfriend, and she’s been hiding it from me?” Chest heaving, Con paused. I think we were both internalizing the words he’d just spoken. I’d fixated on one in particular.
“Girlfriend?”
Con’s eyes found mine. “You just told me you wanted to keep this going. What the hell else am I supposed to call you?”
The smile flitting around the edges of my mouth spread across my face.
“That works for me.” I squeezed his arm. “Now do you want to eat before it gets cold?”
“This subject isn’t closed. If you think I’m going to stand down and let Titan threaten you—”
“I know. But you also need to trust me. I have a plan.”
Con growled, “I don’t like it. But I do trust you.”
“Good. Then let’s eat.”
I’d forgotten to bring wine, but after we’d finished the lasagna, garlic bread, and salad, I was glad for it. Because I had another idea. And since the rest of my ideas had seemed to unfold without blowing up in my face entirely, I was hoping maybe this one would work out okay too.
“What would you say if I told you I wanted a tattoo?”
Con’s affectionate smile warmed me.
“I’d say I know a guy.”
“Seriously, would you do it? Tonight?”
“What brought this on?” Con asked, one eyebrow quirked.
“Just something I’ve always wanted.”
“A fleur de lis?”
It was what I’d asked for that first time I’d come into Voodoo when Con had laid down the law about the only ways he’d spare me his time. “I’m surprised you remember.”
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten anything about you yet, princess.”
“So would you do it?”
Con reached over and covered my hand with his. “Yeah. I’m surprised you have to ask twice. Figured you’d realize that I’d do just about anything for you. Even stow my urge to rip Titan to pieces for thinking he could get away with blackmailing you… and especially because he succeeded, because of me.” Con shook his head. “That part really pisses me off.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, and I certainly don’t want you to feel guilty. I made that choice. I’d probably make the same one again if it got me to this rooftop.”
“You’re something else, babe. You really want that tat now?”
“Yep.”
“Then let’s clean up and head down.”
The woman never ceased to surprise me. And I’d found the surprises both good and bad so far—although mostly good.
The bomb she dropped about Titan made me want to dig my old sidearm out of my drawer and hunt the motherfucker down. But I was trying something new: trust. If Vanessa said she was going to take care of it, I was going to trust that she would. I’d gotten over most of my old issues, and the lasagna we’d shared indicated that she was getting over some of hers.
So this was what an adult relationship felt like? With any other woman, I might have missed the variety of my previous lifestyle, but with Vanessa in my bed, I couldn’t even remember a single one of those women. She was the ultimate prize. And I would do my damnedest to cherish her.
I helped her down the last rungs of the fire escape, and the ladder squeaked and groaned as it retracted up into its resting position. At eleven, I’d had to climb on a nearby dumpster and jump for it. To this day I didn’t know what it was about this building that called to me so strongly. All I knew was, once I had the money, I’d bought it. I’d hired a crazy talented, but retired, tattoo artist to spend a year teaching me both the art and the business. I’d always been able to draw, and it had been therapeutic learning to use my hands to create rather than to kill.
I tossed the trash in the garbage and opened the door, letting Vanessa precede me into the shop. She made her way directly to my room, and I flipped on a few necessary lights. I paused, remembering the drawing I’d been working on a few days ago. It was willful blindness for me to draw it and pretend that I didn’t know exactly who I was drawing it for. I ducked into the break room and grabbed it off my desk.
It was a fleur de lis resting in a crown.
Vanessa was waiting in my chair when I entered the room. And she was naked. Buck. Ass. Naked.
I think my heart stopped. But when it resumed, it thudded away in a heavy beat.
“What—”
“Once you told me the only way a woman got time alone with you here was to get a tattoo or get on her knees or back. I decided to go with on my back first and then the tattoo.”
Who the hell is this woman?
I dropped the drawing on the counter. Only a stupid man would turn that offer down, and today I was very, very smart.
“Well, aren’t you full of surprises tonight.”
“I’m going with my gut. It’s a new thing for me. Feel free to stop me at any time.”
That would be a hell no.
“No, I don’t think I will.”
I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, the tip of her nose, her lips, her chin. Her sharply indrawn breath kept me going south. A skim of my lips down her throat. A nip to her collarbone. And then finally my tongue laving the upper slope of her breast. I couldn’t keep my hands out of the show. I cupped her tits and lifted her nipples to my mouth.
Vanessa’s soft moan and tensing body urged me on.
“I love your tits. Love these nipples. Can’t think about them without my cock going rock hard. Can’t help but want my mouth on them all the damn time. Someday, I want to fuck these gorgeous tits and come all over them.”
Her closed eyes fluttered open. “Don’t let me stop you.”
I shook my head. “Not tonight. Tonight, you just handed me a fantasy I’ve had since the last time you sat in this chair.”
“Really? You wanted this… then?”
I laughed, and it came out rusty. “Why do you sound surprised?”
“You hated me.”
“I never hated you. Just didn’t want to want you so damn bad. And now I don’t care—because you’re mine.”
She buried a hand in my hair and pulled my mouth to hers. Her other hand found its way to my belt as she fumbled it open and worked the button and zipper. When her soft hand closed around my cock, I groaned into her mouth and pulled back. Even though I didn’t want her to let go of my dick, I had to make her. Otherwise I’d be way too eager when I got inside her.
“Slow down, baby. Gotta get you ready first.” I lowered my mouth back to her nipples and let my hand skim down her belly to her landing strip.
“Are you wet for me, princess?”
Her legs shifted slightly as she opened to me. “Find out for yourself.”
My fingers slid lower, parting her, desperate to find her heat. And fuck. She was soaked. My cock jerked as I groaned.
“So fucking wet.”
“Because of you.”
I dropped to my knees on the floor, aware that my pants were falling, but not caring. The only thing I wanted in that moment was my mouth on her pussy as she came against my tongue.
Shoving one arm of the chair down, I turned her and pushed her thighs further apart. “What—”
She went silent when my tongue found her pussy, and I plunged two fingers inside her. Fucking her relentlessly, I teased and sucked on her clit until I felt the fluttering pulses of her inner muscles. I crooked my fingers and stroked her G-spot.
She detonated.
“Con!”
I loved hearing my name on her lips almost as much as I loved the taste of her on my tongue.
She was it. The one. I was done for.
When I pulled my face away and took in her dazed look of pleasure, I knew I wanted to see it every day for the rest of my life. I palmed my cock. I wanted nothing between us.
I lifted her chin and asked, “You good with going bare again? Because I can get a condom.”
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“No. Don’t. I want this.” Her arms snaked around me, and she pulled me closer. “Just you. Nothing else.”
So I obliged, fitting my cock against her entrance and slamming home.
“It’s beautiful. I… I love it.”
I stared down at the tattoo on my hip. It was beautiful, and I did love it. And not just because the fleur de lis and crown were intricately drawn and amazing. I loved it because Con had been the one to do it. Women everywhere would raise their pitchforks if they knew I considered it a sort of brand. No one could ever look at my naked body again and not see the mark that Con had left on me.
But the black ink on my skin was nothing compared to the mark he’d left on my heart.
Hell, he owned my heart.
I still didn’t entirely understand how we’d gotten here, but I was done questioning it. I wanted Con, and I wasn’t going to let him go.
My worries about how Archer and my father would each take the news faded away when Con picked me up off the chair—which he’d sanitized after our unorthodox use of it—and carried me up the stairs to his bed.
“You have anywhere to be in the morning?”
I mentally paged through my calendar. “Brunch at eleven with Elle. We try to do it every Sunday.”
“Still attached at the hip like you were in school?”
I smiled. “Not attached at the hip, per se. But she’s still my best friend. We work together.”
“I always liked her. She seemed a little more wild and crazy than the rest of you.”
“Are you telling me you had a crush on my best friend?”
Con grinned. “Jealous, princess?”
“What do you think?”
Con slid into bed and pulled me flush against him, so my cheek was resting on his chest. “No reason to be. I always thought she’d be a good friend to have on your side. Can’t say I ever stopped thinking about you long enough to think much else about her.”
“Oh.”
Con’s stubbled jaw lowered as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I spent way more time being jealous over you and Duchesne. Hated him because of how close you were.”
I shifted and wished there was enough light in the room to read his expression. “Even though you know we’ve never been anything more than friends?”
“I didn’t know that then. Not sure I would’ve believed it.”
“But you believe it now?”
“Yeah. And not just because you’re in my bed and not his. Besides, I’ve seen firsthand how hung up he is on Charlie.”
“I worry about that.” And I did. Simon was head over heels, and I still wondered what he really knew about Con’s receptionist. She was almost a female version of him. All tattoos and mystery.
“Don’t borrow trouble. No point. They’re adults, and they’ll fumble their way through it themselves.”
Another question occurred to me. “Is that really why you’ve always hated Simon? Because of me?”
I could feel Con’s heart thumping against my palm. He didn’t answer for several beats.
“It’s not hard to hate someone who has everything you’ve ever wanted. Just so happened Duchesne was that guy for me. I was a foster kid, a charity case, and he was the son of a fucking congressman. He had parents who thought the sun shined out of his ass, and I had a mom who ran off and a dad who left too many bruises to cover when family services came around.”
My heart broke for the boy who’d felt so unloved and unwanted. But it explained a lot about Con.
“But what about the Leahys?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure they thought the sun shined out of your ass, too.”
I could hear the affection in his voice when Con said, “Yeah, I guess they did.” His tone was more serious when he added, “And look what it got them.”
He released me and rolled to his back, reaching his arms above his head to grip the wrought iron bars of the headboard.
“Con?”
“That’s exactly why I should tell you to go. Tell you to get the hell away from me. Because now the shit I’m into is even more dangerous. I’ve spent years in the gutter turning up every filth-covered rock to find justice. And when you do that, you attract all sorts of the wrong kind of attention. If someone thinks I’m getting too close, I don’t even want to consider what they might do to stop me. Hit me where it hurts—where I’m weak—and that’s you.”
The atmosphere surrounding the bed turned cold. I’d never aspired to be someone’s weakness. I wasn’t certain how to take that.
“So what are you saying?” I asked. “Because I thought we were finally on the same page.” But maybe I’m wrong, I added silently.
“I’m not saying anything other than I need you to know that if you throw in with me publicly, you need to be careful. A hell of a lot more careful than you have been.” He turned and flipped on the bedside lamp before facing me again. “And if you can’t handle that, you need to tell me right now. Because I already told you I’m not giving you another easy out.”
I may not have understood the risks he was talking about, but I knew one thing for certain—Con wouldn’t let anyone hurt me if it was humanly possible to prevent it. I wasn’t sure how I could make it any clearer that I wasn’t walking away regardless of any out he might offer.
I pressed closer to him. “And I already told you that I want this. We’re going to figure out a way to make it work. Now shut up and kiss me.”
Con’s smile was soft as he flipped off the light and rolled to cover my lips—and my body—with his.
It was a long time before either of us got any sleep.
Con wasn’t particularly peppy in the morning, which probably came from running businesses that stayed open until well past midnight. Which meant that when he mumbled something the next morning about doing Fourth of July on the roof of Voodoo with some friends, and I had to tell him I wasn’t going to be able to be there because I had a prior commitment, he was less than enthusiastic. I’d wanted to invite him to the Fighting for Freedom fundraiser, and it probably would have been the perfect event to bring him to, considering it was supporting the cause of veterans, but I wasn’t quite ready to jump into the deep end when it came to public appearances. I wanted to ease into this, not shove it in people’s faces and cause a splash.
It may have seemed disingenuous, but I was thinking long term. I wanted Con to be accepted and finally feel like he belonged. I didn’t want him to feel like he was on the outside looking in anymore. Because if Archer was still willing to give me a shot at running the foundation, I would want Con by my side at all of the events I attended in the future. I just had to choose our steps carefully.
The only thing that had kept Con from going over the edge was the fact that Lucas Titan was not going to be there. This wasn’t an event on his list, which was somewhat surprising, but I certainly wasn’t offering.
The next week was jam-packed with work for the building project. Demolition was on schedule, and everything was moving smoothly. I managed to see Con a few times, mostly quick breaks for lunch or a stolen afternoon at the gym helping to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I brought all sorts of extras and stuffed those in the bags as well: granola bars, fruit snacks, pudding cups, and all of the other fun stuff I’d always wanted to see when I opened my brown paper lunch bag. One afternoon we’d even taken that shopping trip to get suits for the boys. I couldn’t wait to see the pride on their faces when they walked into their next tournament.
Trey had recovered enough to leave the hospital, and I’d arranged to have a nurse visit their home for several hours a day to help out his mother. He’d missed his orientation at West Point, but they’d agreed not to defer him if he could pass his physical before the semester started. Given that Trey was a fighter, I was putting my money on him.
Hennessy’s investigation around the carjacking and shooting was successful. The guy responsible was arrested and charged. One of the least pleasant experiences of my life was participating in identifying him durin
g the line up. Con, and a stubborn, but still-weak Trey, had stood on either side of me when I’d said the number aloud. That was at least one instance of justice being served.
I couldn’t imagine how it felt for Con to spend years not knowing who had been responsible for killing his parents, especially with the guilt he carried. I hated that it ate away at him, but I didn’t know how I could help. I guessed this fell into the category of being a supportive girlfriend.
Archer had been away all week attending a national conference and wouldn’t return until Monday. I was surprised he hadn’t asked me to attend with him, but I assumed it was because the budget only allowed for one person to go. Ever conscious of how the foundation expended its funds, I didn’t protest or complain. But it did mean that I still hadn’t had an opportunity to tell him about Con and me yet.
I went back and forth—did I tell Archer first or my father? Neither conversation was going to be easy, but I hoped telling Archer first and having his support might make it less intimidating to tell my father. Because if Archer had no problem with it, I was hoping my father would be influenced to feel similarly. And yes, I was aware that was a whole lot of hope.
I strode up the ramp to the Steamboat Orleans on Fourth of July, my heels and spirits high. I’d come up with a plan. Finally. I would tell Archer before I left work on Monday, and I’d tell my father when he arrived home on Monday night. I’d practiced my speech, over and over, and I was feeling confident that Archer would see things my way.
Con had done so much good in the community without asking for any kind of recognition. We could all learn something from him about giving back without expectations.
Archer would understand. He was a philanthropist to the core. He’d respect that about Con. I truly believed that Archer would want me to be happy. I hoped my father would feel the same way. I didn’t want to be estranged from the only parent I had left, but it was certainly a possibility. A very disheartening possibility.
The party was already in full swing when I arrived, and I shook hands and made small talk. I worked the crowd to avoid my father, and occasionally caught glimpses of Simon and Charlie. She looked incredibly poised and almost…accustomed to this type of event.
