Something Real (Exile Ink Book 3)

by Skylar Hill

  “I’ll talk to the lawyer and see if this is enough to get the hearing pulled, but without the time for a detailed investigation, it seems unlikely,” James said.

  “I know,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore tonight. Can we talk about it tomorrow?” Her voice sounded small and his stomach clenched, hating that she was feeling like this.

  “Of course,” he said. “Do you want to go to sleep?”

  “No,” she said, her eyes fixing on his.

  She was wearing that sleep top that drove him crazy, the one that had a deep V lace inset exposing the graceful curve of her cleavage and the rise and fall of her breasts with each breath, but covering the full view in a tantalizing tease. One of the straps slipped down her shoulder as she sat up, and he was torn between wanting to grab it with his teeth or pull it fully off with his fingers.

  “Oh yeah?” he said, feeling the electricity rise in the air.

  “Come here,” she said, crooking her finger at him.

  He obeyed, helpless not to.

  As soon as their lips met, it was like a forest fire had been unleashed inside him. Every worry, every fear, every doubt roared through him, and the only thing that could quench it was his body moving in hers. His hands buried in her hair, then trailed down her neck as his tongue stroked into her mouth, making them both moan.

  “Fuck, Cam.” He yanked at her top, pulling it off her with an impatient sound. “I need to be inside you. Need to fuck you. Need to make you mine.”

  He was barely even aware of what he was saying as his fingers slipped into the silk of her little sleep shorts, the ones that flashed that juicy curve of her ass every time she bent down in them. God, she was so fucking perfect, ripe with beauty and strength, flushed and spread out underneath him as he yanked her shorts down in one movement and sank into her in the next.

  She gasped, her entire body arching against his as he held totally still, their connection, the tight, wet heat almost too much. He groaned, his forehead falling against the dip of her collarbone as he began to thrust, more words, nonsense love words that were all possession and desire, spilling from his mouth. Panted against her skin as he worked his cock into her at the angle that made her nails dig into his shoulders. Words about how she made him feel, how much he loved her, how fucking wet she was around him.

  So fucking sweet. Gonna love you forever, God, Cam, you’re so… mine, all mine, need you like this, just like this, always.

  “Yes, baby, yes,” she moaned more than said, her heels digging into his lower back as she tiled her hips up. He grabbed her ass, sharpening the angle, and as the flared head of his cock rocked against her G-spot, she broke, her lips widening into a beautiful Oh! of pleasure as her pussy milked his cock, her eyes fluttering shut as her orgasm washed over her body.

  He didn’t stop fucking her—he couldn’t. He was so close, and then she was rippling around him like some kind of perfection. His hands full of her gorgeous ass, her cheeks flushed with passion he brought her, he had no choice but to follow her over the edge, his cock jerking inside her as one of the most powerful orgasms of his life ripped through him.

  He swore, half collapsing on the bed, careful not to crush her as he tried to gain some kind of composure.

  But she had unwound him. He felt blasted wide open as he carefully pulled out and got rid of the condom, drawing her close as soon as he was done. He needed to be touching her. He stroked her arms lightly, tracing the tattoo on her hip and leg, loving the bright colors and what they meant. That she chose to share something so personal, something that meant so much to her. He basked in the afterglow, in the way when he hit a too-sensitive spot on her body, she made this little sighing sound and leaned into the touch instead of wriggling away.

  “I never want this to change,” she murmured, nestling into him, her cheek resting on his shoulder as she absently traced the redwoods she’d inked on his chest.

  “It never will,” he promised, kissing her on the forehead.

  She was his, forever. Just as he was hers.

  He was going to make sure of it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cam

  “Well, this is the most depressing road trip ever,” Evie commented as James pulled into the hotel parking lot.

  “Hush,” Cam scolded, even though her sister had a point.

  “At least the digs are nice,” Evie said, whistling as they got out of the car. James had booked rooms an hour away from the prison in the nicest hotel he could find. It was sweet of him, a bid to try to keep their minds off what was to come. It wouldn’t work, but it was still a thoughtful touch.

  “I’m totally raiding the minibar,” Evie declared when they got up to their rooms. Hers was across the hall from theirs, and Cam watched as she threw herself enthusiastically on the bed, her long blonde hair fanning out on the bedspread. “That overpriced jar of jelly beans is mine.”

  Cam shook her head, smiling fondly at her sister. “I’m gonna go shower. Dinner in an hour?” she asked.

  Evie nodded.

  Cam crossed the hall, and joined James in their room. He had their bags on the bed, already unpacking her clothes for tomorrow. He’d been trying to do everything for her—he’d even tried to pack for her—like he thought it would make it less stressful.

  But her stress wasn’t going to diminish. Not until the probation board decided not to let Keith go. And that decision—their future—was based on what she and her sister said today.

  “I’m going to jump in the shower,” she told him. “Then dinner?”

  “Sounds perfect,” he said with a smile.

  She walked into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stripped off her clothes. She stepped under the stream, gasping as the warmth hit her, washing over her body. Ashe muscles in her neck and shoulders begin to relax under the gentle stream of water, she closed her eyes, tipping her head back, letting it pour over her.

  She heard the bathroom door open, and James’s shadow fell against the curtain for a moment before he pulled it back and stepped inside with her.

  His arms wrapped around her from behind, his hands stroking over her stomach, down her hips, up the curve of her back.

  “I don’t seem to remember inviting you in here,” she said, with a playful grin to show him she was teasing.

  He kissed her, hands gliding over her body as her eyes fluttered shut. The dual sensations—the dual heat of his touch and the water—twined over her, undulating through her body like a ribbon in the breeze.

  She loved this about him—that he relished her, looking at her, stroking her like she was a beautiful piece of art begging to be touched as well as experienced. It wasn’t even about foreplay or sex… sometimes it didn’t even lead to that.

  Sometimes, as he put it with a wicked smile, I just want to enjoy you.

  “I’m helpless against your allure,” he said, a pinch to her butt making her gasp and twist into his waiting arms. She laughed, tilting her head up to accept his kiss as his hands began to wander again. “I love every curve,” he said, his fingers trailing along the edge of her breast, making her shiver despite the heat and steam in the shower. “Every beauty mark,” his head dipped down, kissing the mole on her shoulder, the one shaped a little like a heart. “Every part of you. I’m utterly helpless.”

  “I certainly have a lot of power over you,” she said, cocking her hip and pursing her lips, like she was contemplating what to do with him. “I guess I’ll just have to keep being totally in love with you.”

  “That seems the safest option for both of us,” he agreed solemnly, his forehead coming to rest against hers as she smiled, the water rushing over their shoulders. He stroked her wet curls off her face, his expression turning serious. “I’m going to keep you safe, Cam,” he said.

  “I know.” She pulled him close, her head pillowing against his slippery chest.

  But who would keep him safe?

  That was one of her many, many worries.

  Th
e next morning, she woke before dawn, unable to sleep, and got out of bed quietly, wary of disturbing James, who was still asleep. She crept across the room and opened the hotel room door. There was a light under Evie’s room, and she knocked lightly.

  After a few seconds, her sister opened the door, already dressed, her makeup half done.

  “Couldn’t sleep either?” Evie asked.

  Cam followed her into the room, sitting down on the bed that Evie had already stripped to make the job easier for the maids. There was a twenty- dollar bill set on the desk for housekeeping, tucked under a note that Evie had written “Thank you!” inside a little heart. Cam smiled when she saw it, so grateful for Evie’s thoughtfulness, her attention to detail. It was a testament to their mother, what a lovely young woman she’d grown up to be.

  Evie was more like their mother than Cam was. Cam had her mother’s artistic talent, of course, but Evie had gotten her spark. That light that just shone from her and drew people in.

  Evie went back to the mirror, plucking her eye-shadow brush from the roll on the table. “Are you scared?” she asked, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on her reflection.

  “Yes,” Cam said, not willing to lie to her when it would be so obvious.

  “Me too.” Evie’s confession was quiet, her focus still on her makeup. Cam watched as she blended her eye shadow, thinking about the time Evie had gotten hold of her makeup in middle school, how clumsily she had applied it, too heavy and too bright.

  And now her little sister’s movements were practiced and confident as she brushed a soft pink blush over her cheeks, adding a few dots of highlighter to the top of each cheekbone, blending lightly with her fingers.

  “There’ll be guards, right?” Evie asked suddenly.

  “Yes,” Cam assured her.

  Evie put her makeup brushes away, pulling out her hairbrush and beginning to yank it through her hair with a little too much vigor. Cam winced.

  “We’re going to be fine, Evie,” she told her.

  Evie made a noise, not quite a snort, because she wasn’t that rude, but even so, it wasn’t a terribly nice noise.

  “Think about where we might be if this had happened three years ago,” Cam went on, because that was the only thing that was keeping her sane right now. If this had happened when she was still scraping by at the Electric Chair Tattoo Shop, Evie just starting out college, this whole situation would be even more of a mess.

  If she didn’t have James, this would be hell. And if Evie didn’t have her, standing strong and tall and steady, she might retreat further into her shell, as she put it.

  They had people on their side, no matter what happened. They didn’t have that before. Not like this.

  They were stronger together. Cam was holding onto that. She had to.

  “You’re right,” Evie said, taking a deep breath and tossing her brush on the table. She crossed the room, flopping down on the bed next to her.

  “I keep thinking about graduation,” she finally said, after a long silence. Evie turned on her side, her hands pillowing her head as she looked at Cam. “About how whenever I dreamed about it when I was little, Mom was always there. And I keep thinking that Exile Ink… that’s like your version of graduation. I hate that neither of us get her there. I hate that she doesn’t get to be here, to see any of it: graduation, careers, boyfriends, highs, lows. I hate that…” She bit her lip, clearly trying not to cry. “I hate that my kids won’t get to know their grandma.”

  “It’s not fair,” Cam said. She had been thinking the same thing, ever since she had confessed to James she had always wanted to name her daughter after her mother. “But we can tell them stories about her. We have her artwork. We have her sketches.”

  “We have her books,” Evie said, with a smile. Their mother had loved to read, everything from thrillers to romance novels to anatomy books. She’d passed this love down to her daughters, especially Evie.

  “We’ll both let our kids know how special she was,” Cam promised her. “You and me, we’ll keep her memory alive.”

  “I hope so,” Evie said, her voice shaking a little.

  “I know so,” Cam replied.

  Evie’s hand reached for hers, and their pinkies hooked, the silent promise they used to make as children. They lay there side by side on the stripped hotel bed, their fingers hooked together, as they waited for the day to start.

  And for their fate to be decided.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cam

  “So here’s what’s going to happen,” said Ward Clark, the lawyer James had brought in to handle their interests in the hearing. “We’ll be going into the room. The board will already be seated. He’ll be brought in.”

  Cam’s fingers squeezed down on James’ at the thought.

  “They’ll go over his file,” Ward continued. “And then he’ll issue his statement. I want you to be prepared for a lot of bullshit there, okay, ladies? He’s going to lay it on thick to get the board on his side. And it’s gonna make you angry. That’s okay. Just don’t let it show.”

  “We can do that,” Evie said, her mouth set in a mulish expression.

  “Then it’ll be time for the statements on his behalf,” Ward said. “Again, more bullshit. Just keep calm. Because after they’re done blowing a whole lot of smoke up the board’s ass, it’s your turn to have your say. And you’ll hit it out of the park. I’ve no doubt.”

  Cam smiled, appreciating Ward’s confidence. The plainspoken prosecutor, widely respected as a vital force in the courtroom, had volunteered his time as a friend of James. Everyone who had worked so tirelessly on this for her and Evie had been so wonderful. They were incredibly lucky in that instance.

  And incredibly unlucky in this situation.

  She took in a calming breath, closing her eyes, blocking out the ugly waiting room they were stuck in. You can do this, she told herself. You have to. For Evie. For Mom. For yourself.

  But a few minutes later, as they were led out of the lobby, her legs began to shake the second she got up. She held onto James’s arm, her other hand in Evie’s as they made their way down the hall and to the courtroom. But each step brought a renewed sense of familiar dread.

  There was a long table, with four people—two women and two men—sitting behind it, thick files in front of them. One chair was set in front of the table—the hot seat—and more chairs set farther away. Wade guided to them to the chairs grouped to the left, and they sat down. Cam cast a nervous glance over at the other side of the room, then up at the table, where the board sat. She tried not to stare, but it was hard. These were the people who were deciding her and Evie’s fate. Did they understand that?

  She had to make them, if they didn’t. She had to make them see the risk.

  “You’re doing great,” James said, his hand rubbing little circles between her shoulder blades. She anxiously smoothed down her black skirt, wondering for the hundredth time if she was dressed right. It seemed absurd that she was worrying about that, but she knew things like that mattered. People made judgments based on appearance, and she wanted the board to make the right leap to judgment. Which is why she went with something conservative, a simple black A-line skirt and a pale blue button-down tucked into it. The only jewelry she wore was her grandmother Ivy’s wedding band on a chain tucked under her shirt, resting over her heart like a talisman. She touched its outline beneath the crisp blue linen, praying it would bring them luck.

  Ward looked over to the empty set of chairs on the right side and then peered down at his watch, a frown knitting across his black brows. “His people should be here by now.”

  After a few minutes, the woman wearing glasses at the end of the table checked her own watch, and then said, “It’s time. Let’s get started. Bring him in.”

  Cam felt Evie tense next to her, her sister’s hand sweaty as it clutched her own. “It’s okay,” she told Evie in an undertone, even though it was so far from it, it wasn’t even funny.

  The door opened, and Evi
e’s hand clamped down even tighter. Cam put her arm around her, drawing her sister close, wishing there was some way to shield her from this.

  She had to grit her teeth when she heard the clink of his handcuffs behind her—a familiar sound, since sometimes he liked to whip those cuffs across her mother’s back. Her vision fuzzed as he came into her line of sight, not with tears, but with pure, tunneling panic that made her heart roar in her ears and her skin feel stretched too tight across her bones.

  “It’s okay, honey.” James’s low, gentle assurance broke through the fear—barely—but it was the anchor she needed to raise her gaze and see her father for the first time in years. His hair was speckled with gray now, his skin pitted with age and bad living, but his eyes were the same: set deep in his skull, shining no matter the light, always dangerous.

  “Take a seat, Mr. Fawcett,” said the woman with the glasses. “I am Angela Chambers, and I’ll be running this hearing today. I understand you were supposed to have witnesses. I have a list, but I see none here. Can you explain?”

  “I cannot,” he said.

  God, that voice. It was the one from her nightmares, the one that haunted her sleep, her dark thoughts, her memories. Her body instinctively wanted to shake, but she forced herself to stay still, refusing to show weakness.

  “Nevertheless, we will be continuing today. I do have statements from several people on your behalf, and they will be taken into consideration by the board. Have you prepared a statement, Mr. Fawcett?”

  “I have,” he said. He was slumping his shoulders, like he thought it would make him look smaller, less dangerous, or more contrite. It made Cam sick. She had to fight to keep her lip from curling, hyper-aware of what Wade had said about staying calm. “There is nothing I can do to change the past. What I did was unconscionable, and if there was any way I could change…” he trailed off, pressing his fist against his mouth, like he was overcome with emotion.