INK

by Elizabeth Hunter

  “I’m not a flirt.” He unbuckled his seat belt and turned toward her. “I don’t flirt.”

  “You bite my lip. You talk about breaking rules. This was your rule! You’re the one who said it was a bad idea to… to—” Emmie suddenly realized the truck was stopped in the middle of an orange grove and Ox was moving toward her. “Where are we? What are you doing?”

  God bless bench seats. The smell of oranges filled the cab. Sweet after sour. She was sweet after sour. Her hair was pulled up in that bun he wanted to mess up. She was wearing her I Like to Party, and by Party I Mean Read Books shirt. It was tighter than most of her shirts and hugged her breasts. He could see the delicate curves of her collarbones at the base of her neck.

  She put a hand up. “Ox, what are you doing?”

  Ox held his hand over hers, pressing it to his chest. He needed to take his time with Emmie. She was going to freak out. It both amused him and scared him a little.

  “I need this to work,” he murmured.

  He was not talking about the shop.

  “I know,” she said.

  Slow down, you idiot.

  “Emmie.” He clicked a button and released her seat belt. “Emmie Elliot, as a friend and a work associate, I am very respectfully asking you to sexually harass the hell out of me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  What was happening? One minute she’d been mad as hell and tired of his vague comments, possessive attitude, and mixed messages, and the next she was sitting so close to him she could feel the heat from his chest and Ox was asking her to sexually harass him.

  “You don’t work for me,” she said. “I can’t sexually harass you.”

  “You’re right.” He leaned closer. His lips were so close she could feel his breath against her lips. “I don’t work for you. You don’t work for me. We’re partners and we’re grown-ups and Emmie, for fuck’s sake, you have to kiss me because I can’t do it and I’m dying here.”

  Emmie closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his.

  Ox made a low growling sound, scooting to her side of the truck as he untangled Emmie from the seat belt and lifted her onto his lap so she straddled him. He hooked her leg over his lap, gripping her thigh as his other hand dug into the small of her back, plastering her to his chest. In the next second, his hand was at her neck, angling her mouth to his kiss. His teeth nipped at her lips, making her gasp, and he let his tongue slip in to tease her own. He tasted like the peppermint ice cream his mom had served after dinner.

  Emmie’s head was spinning. Yes. No. Yes yes yes.

  Her body decided to tell her head to mind its own business.

  Kissing Miles Oxford was a full-body experience. She pulled away and gasped only to have Ox capture her mouth again. His large palm fell to her bottom, caressing and squeezing. She squirmed on his lap and felt his erection between them.

  He groaned and brought his hands up, cradling her face between his palms as he kissed her over and over.

  “I”—kiss—“have been wanting to do this”—kiss—“for weeks.”

  “Me too,” she managed to gasp. “You’re a good kisser.”

  “Thanks.” His teeth scraped over her jaw. “You too.”

  “I am?” Emmie hadn’t heard that before.

  “Your mouth.” Ox left her neck and captured her in a sweet, lingering press of lips followed by another nip on her lower lip. “Your mouth drives me crazy.”

  The kiss moved from frantic to leisurely. Ox took the hands cradling her cheeks and ran them over her shoulders, tracing little circles on her bare skin before he slipped her cardigan down her shoulders and swept his arms up her back.

  “I want to kiss your back,” he whispered. “I’ve been dreaming about those butterflies.”

  “I’ve been dreaming about your chest.”

  “Yeah?” He reached for her hand and put it on his chest. “What about it?”

  “The anchor over your heart,” she whispered. “It’s beautiful.”

  He trailed his lips to her ear as his fingers slipped under her shirt at the small of her back. “What do you want to do to it?”

  “I want—” Emmie gasped when Ox’s warm hands unsnapped her bra in a single move. “I want to lick it.”

  “Sounds good to me.” His hands moved over her back, unencumbered by her bra. They moved up and down, teasing her skin until she wanted to weep and beg him to strip her bare. He was kissing her neck again.

  “The letters on your left bicep?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I want to bite those.”

  He nipped her neck. “That can be arranged.”

  Emmie squirmed some more and Ox groaned.

  “Buttons, I am trying really hard to not strip you naked and fuck you in my truck in the middle of Cary’s orange grove, so we probably better stop.”

  “You started it.” She arched her back and caressed his shoulders, enjoying the hard feel of him between her thighs. It had been a while—a long while—since she’d wanted anyone like this. She might not have ever wanted anyone like this. The tension had been building for weeks. “And stop calling me Buttons.”

  His hand moved between her thighs and cupped her. He stroked his thumb and pressed in, holding her just like that as he pulled away from her mouth and put his hand back on her nape to angle her eyes to his.

  Emmie couldn’t breathe. If he moved his thumb just a little, she would explode. She’d never been more turned on in her life.

  The corner of Ox’s mouth inched up; he knew exactly what he was doing to her. “Emmie.”

  “Yeah?” She was panting and near tears. Her skin felt like it was alive, every inch of it, but especially that inch.

  “I’m always going to call you Buttons.” His thumb moved, pressed in, and flipped her into a sharp orgasm. She shuddered when she came, falling against his chest and panting into his neck as she held on to him.

  It was barely enough to take the edge off. A taste of pleasure when she wanted to indulge.

  Ox smelled like cedar and salt. The air smelled like oranges. Emmie licked his neck, tasting his skin as she snuggled into him and slid her hands around his waist. Her head was buzzing and she barely noticed when Ox unclipped her hair.

  He whispered against her cheek, “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Really?”

  He combed his fingers through her hair, smoothing it down her back. “And I’m staying at your place.”

  “Okay.”

  “On the couch.”

  “Why?” She frowned. He didn’t want to sleep with her? The physical evidence was calling him a liar.

  Ox ran a hand up her shoulder and pulled her away from his neck, cradling her head in his hand. “I like to take my time. And not just in bed.”

  Oh yeah. He was good.

  Emmie nodded, and Ox drew her into a lingering, sweet kiss. Her head was spinning by the time he drew back, stroking her cheek as he opened the truck door.

  “What are you doing?”

  Ox slid out of the car and hopped up and down a few times. “Cold air. Kind of necessary right now.”

  She stifled a grin and buckled her seat belt. “Get back in the truck. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

  “That’s not necessary. For future reference.”

  “It is when you’re driving.”

  “Now you’re just giving me ideas.” His half smile turned into a grin. “Is your imagination really as good as Tayla said?”

  “Guess you’re going to have to wait and find out.” Emmie closed the door and covered her head with her sweater when she heard Ox laugh.

  What had she done?

  Emmie woke to the smell of coffee and man. The coffee was in the kitchen, but the man was beside her. She cracked open one of her eyes and saw Ox watching her.

  “Hey,” he said. “I believe you said morning cuddling was required as rent for the couch.”

  “Yes, it is.” She scooted over and he moved closer. “Th
ough I’m more a fan of naked cuddling.”

  His shoulders shook as he opened his arms and she put her head on his shoulder. He closed his arms around her, and Emmie luxuriated in the weight of his hug, the thud of his heart beating under her ear.

  Oh, this was good.

  “I’m also a fan of naked cuddling,” he said. “But as I said, I like to take my time.”

  “I would have pegged you for a more… impatient approach.”

  “Hmmm.” He played with her hair, spreading it over her shoulders. “Not this time. Anticipation is fun. Teasing is fun. The best things come to those who wait.”

  “Umm… but the early bird gets the worm?”

  “Am I the worm?”

  “Maybe? I hadn’t really thought that analogy through. It’s early and I haven’t had coffee.”

  “I started the pot before I came in. Warning—Tayla has already spotted me and has a list of questions.”

  Emmie groaned. “Did she show you the list?”

  “Wait, there’s an actual list?” Ox tipped her chin up to meet his eyes. “There’s an actual list of questions?”

  “Yes, we put it together several years ago after her last disastrous relationship and promised to use it on any man who looked serious. It’s very intrusive and thorough. I’m hoping you can laugh your way through it because I don’t think she’s going to let me get out of it.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “So this is serious?”

  “The list? Yes, she takes it very seriously.”

  “I’m not talking about the list. I’m talking about you and me.”

  Emmie propped herself up on her elbows. “Ox, this was only ever going to be serious. Do you think I’d take a risk like this if I wasn’t serious?”

  He smiled a little. “Just checking.” He leaned closer. “In exchange for morning cuddles, I demand payment by morning kisses.”

  She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Morning breath.”

  “Don’t care.” His kiss was long and thorough. He pulled her up until she was splayed across his massive chest.

  “You really are kind of an ox, aren’t you?”

  He hitched her leg up and arched into her. “I don’t know how much you know about cattle, but oxen are usually castrated.”

  “Well… that doesn’t really apply then, does it?” She muffled her laugh in his chest.

  “No. But I am a big guy.” He tugged on her hair. “Does it bother you?”

  “What?”

  “That I’m overgrown. I think that’s what you said, right?”

  “Does it bother you I’m a little thing?”

  “No.” He lifted her and brought her close enough to kiss. “Just keeps things interesting, right?”

  “Right.” Coffee was suddenly the last thing on her mind. “Miles—”

  “My mom calls me Miles. Please do not ever call me Miles in bed. Ever.”

  She smiled. “Ox.”

  “Emmie.”

  “Should we talk about this?”

  “Yes, we should. At dinner tonight. Wait.” He frowned. “I have a client tonight. That won’t work.”

  “Tomorrow night?”

  “Tomorrow too. And you have your first book club meeting the night after that.”

  “Nights are complicated. Lunch?”

  “You don’t think you’re going to be busy during lunch? Lots of people run errands on their lunch break.”

  “True.” She sighed. “Why is this so impossible?”

  “We’ll figure it out.” He kissed her nose. “Maybe—”

  Tayla banged on the door. “Hey, sexy time’s over. Shop opens in an hour, and we have an order that came in yesterday. Put some clothes on, you hussy.”

  Ox yelled, “I told you to stop calling me a hussy. It hurts my feelings.”

  “Stop being such a delicate flower, Ox!”

  He smiled. “Men have feelings too, you know.”

  I love you. It almost slipped out, which was ridiculous. Emmie couldn’t love him. They were just…

  She didn’t know what they were. They hadn’t even gone on a date yet. They spent all day together, but they didn’t have time to go on a date. What was that? What kind of relationship could they possibly have when they were both starting brand-new businesses? It wasn’t love. It couldn’t be love. Not yet. She’d only known him a couple of months. There were all sorts of experiences they had to go through before she could really know if she—

  “Stop.” Ox grabbed her chin. “You’re overthinking it.”

  Emmie blinked. “I am?”

  “You have that look you get right before you freak the fuck out. Chill.”

  She nodded.

  “It’s still there.” He rolled her to the side and kissed her forehead before he got out of bed. “Get dressed. Get some coffee. I have errands to run this morning, but I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay.”

  “And don’t freak out.”

  “I’m not freaking out.”

  Ox turned as he got to the door. “You’re lying, but we’ll work on that. Have a good morning. I’ll see you later.” He paused, then walked back and gave her one more kiss. “And I look forward to much more sexual harassment in our future.”

  Emmie waited until he shut the door to pull the covers over her head and groan.

  She didn’t know what she was doing! She’d had the man in her bed, and instead of screwing his brains out, she’d been mentally declaring her love for him. She was a cliché. A horrible, horrible romantic cliché.

  Glancing at her phone, Emmie decided she was allowed to wallow in confusion for precisely five minutes and then she had to get dressed.

  Five minutes. Then it was time to work.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  He’d been right. Lunch was as busy as Ox had predicted. Which was good! But not when she wanted desperately to get a little more alone time with a certain tattoo artist who was currently inking a baby name on a guy’s shoulder.

  “Number five, huh?” Ox murmured. “You must be a busy guy.”

  “My wife’s busier.” The man laughed. “But yeah. We have fun. Ten years, five kids.”

  Emmie glanced over at Ox’s corner. His client had his shirt off and his hairy chest and belly were attracting a few glances from her customers, but no one seemed offended. Ox had offered to put up the privacy screen, but the man said it wasn’t necessary. It was one of those things that Emmie hadn’t thought about before they started. She wasn’t concerned about men taking their shirts off in the bookstore, but she’d forgotten some of her customers might not feel the same way.

  Luckily the general mood seemed to be curiosity and not disapproval. Two of her grandmother’s old customers had wandered over and were watching the tattoo.

  “Ladies,” Ox said with a nod.

  “Does it hurt?” one asked.

  “A little,” the client said. “I’m used to it now.”

  “Doris, you should get your granddaughter’s name on your arm like this man.” The older lady leaned toward Ox and his client. “She’s much more daring than I am.”

  Ox looked up and caught Emmie’s eye, winking at her before he turned back to his client and wiped off his shoulder. “Luis, you’re done. I’ll see you again in a couple of years.”

  “I hope not!” the man said while Ox smeared some gel over the new ink and covered it with a light bandage, giving the man the basic spiel about aftercare.

  Emmie scanned the shop and the sidewalk outside. Guessing she’d have at least a few minutes of quiet, she went to check what Tayla was up to. She was back in the office, her glasses on and a bright red pencil stuck in her hair as she scanned the computer and made notes with a different red pencil on a notepad. “Hey, hussy.”

  Emmie leaned against the doorjamb. “Will you stop?”

  “What was he doing on the couch? You still haven’t answered me. If that man gave me a hickey on my neck, he would not be sleeping on the couch.”

  Emmie adjusted the collar of her sh
irt. It was a very faint bruise, but it was there. She hadn’t noticed the night before. “He said he likes to take his time. Something about anticipation and teasing making things better.”

  “So he’s cock-blocking himself?” Tayla’s head fell back. “Why is that so hot?”

  Emmie had to agree. It was hot. And frustrating. She’d been thinking about him all morning, which wasn’t making work easier. She’d mis-shelved an entire shipment of adult romance in the YA fantasy section.

  “I can’t stop thinking about him,” she whispered, sitting in the chair across from the desk. “This is nuts. I’m nuts. I’m being stupid. We both are, and this is going to mess everything up. I should just tell him to forget last night even happened.”

  Tayla narrowed her eyes. “You don’t want to do that.”

  “Of course I don’t! But how can this end well?”

  Tayla pursed her lips. “You were the one talking about marriage and babies and all that the other night. Maybe this guy is the one. The real deal. Your one true love. The happily-ever-after in your own personal romance novel, baby.”

  Emmie rolled her eyes. “It is way too soon to talk about that.”

  “And it’s way too soon to talk about breaking up with a guy that you’re just starting out with,” Tayla said. “You’ve been dancing around each other for weeks. You’ve gone through a store renovation together. You work well together professionally. Just give it a chance, Em. You don’t know what might happen. Besides, as much as you work, where else were you going to meet anyone?” Tayla snorted. “Or were you going to give in to the predictable and go on a date with Adrian Saroyan?”

  Adrian Saroyan. Emmie’s eyes went wide. “Shit.”

  Tayla shrugged. “Who says he’s even going to finish that book? It’s been what? Three weeks or something?”

  “Not everyone binge-reads like we do.”

  “Three weeks, Emmie. If he was motivated, he’d already have read it. Ox would have read it by now.”

  Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall. Ox poked his head in. “Did I hear my name? Emmie, you’ve got a customer in front.”

  Tayla asked, “How long would it take you to read a three-hundred-page book?”