INK

by Elizabeth Hunter

  His name was on her lips when he captured them again, swallowing her cries as they moved together. He surrounded her. Consumed her.

  I love you. Forget falling. I fell.

  “You caught me,” Emmie whispered.

  Ox blinked and cupped her face in his palm. “What?” Red rode high on his cheekbones, and his lips were swollen and dark.

  “You caught me. I fell and you caught me.”

  She didn’t say it, but the look in his eyes told Emmie he knew. The hand that gripped her hip turned soft, and his lips were tender when he kissed her again. “I’ll always catch you.”

  Ox rolled her to her back and braced himself over her, moving more slowly as he made love to her. Emmie spread her hands over his chest, stroking his skin and smoothing her hands over the hard planes of his abdomen. She lifted her hips and moved with him, meeting his thrusts with her hips.

  “Emmie.” His breath caught. “Are you—?”

  “Close.” She could feel it building again, the slow steady thrum of pleasure that coiled and gripped her. He didn’t stop. He didn’t pause. He didn’t lose a single beat.

  “Fucking come,” he hissed between gritted teeth. “Emmie—”

  “Yes!” She arched her back, gripping his shoulders as she lost control and heard him shout her name. He gripped her thigh and spread her legs wider, driving impossibly deeper as he came. Ox fell over her, kissing her mouth. Her cheeks. Her chin. Her eyelids. He rolled to the side and gathered her close, keeping them linked as he caught his breath.

  His chest rose and fell. He pulled out and rolled to the side to get rid of the condom, then came back to her and buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply against her skin and peppering kisses over her neck and shoulder.

  “Oh fuck,” he breathed out. “Best thing ever.”

  Emmie smiled and kissed his temple. She could already feel his body relaxing against hers. He scooted up the bed and shoved pillows underneath his head, tucking Emmie against his shoulder as his eyes began to droop.

  “Gonna fall asleep,” he muttered. “Been… up. For a while.”

  “Sleep,” Emmie whispered. “Sleep as long as you need to.”

  He pressed her closer. “Stay.”

  “I’ll stay.”

  Emmie fell asleep minutes after Ox did, listening to the storm roll around them.

  She woke in the middle of the night. Ox was kissing her shoulder, tracing his tongue over the vines and flowers that covered her back, kissing each butterfly with soft lips. She reached down and knit her fingers with his, bringing his hand to palm her breast. He indulged with lazy strokes and lingering kisses, heating her blood to the boiling point as the rain spattered against the windows. The storm had turned and the rain fell soft and steady on the roof.

  He was kissing her neck when he lifted her knee and slid into her from behind. Ox curled his arms around her and hugged her to his chest, whispering in her ear as he rocked her slowly.

  His hands, his words, his heat eased her into a bone-melting orgasm. She turned her head, searching for his mouth. He met her kiss, holding her closer as he let himself come.

  “Love you,” he murmured, falling back into sleep.

  Emmie clutched his arms around her. If this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up. If this would end in heartbreak, she didn’t want to know. She felt a tear slip down her cheek as her heart clenched painfully.

  I love you, Miles Oxford. I love you so much.

  He scared her to death, but she couldn’t bring herself to be cautious anymore. For once, Emmie wanted the dream.

  “Emmie.” A tickling touch on her nose. A kiss on her lips. “Wake up, Buttons.”

  Emmie kept her eyes closed. “I can’t believe you’re still calling me that.”

  He slid a hand between her thighs. “Do you need a reminder?”

  “Mmmm.” She wiggled her bottom back into him and felt jeans. Emmie frowned and opened her eyes. “You’re dressed.”

  “I have to head out to the ranch for a couple hours,” he whispered. “I thought I’d go early so I could come back and we could spend your day off together. Did you have plans?”

  She shook her head and reminded herself that she wasn’t some needy child. Ox’s mother had just had a health scare. He needed to help take care of her. She couldn’t be selfish.

  “What time will you be back?”

  “I’m not sure.” He kissed her. “The earlier I go, the earlier I can come back. I didn’t want to leave without letting you know.”

  “Hmm.” She grunted. “From now on, let’s have a policy about responding to phone calls and text messages.”

  He squeezed her ass. “For both of us.”

  “Yes, for both of us.”

  “Good. Can this be an amendment to the employee manual right after the one about you sexually harassing me daily?”

  “I am not your boss.”

  “But office sex is still an option, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “How about my tattoo chair?”

  She pinched the skin on the inside of his elbow and he yelped. “There are no curtains in that shop. Don’t even think about it.”

  “Too late,” he whispered. “I’m already thinking about it. Privacy screens? I can get another one. Think about you riding me in that chair. Fucking me while you—”

  She slapped a hand over his mouth. “Stop unless you want me to strip you out of those clothes you just put on.”

  Ox took her hand off his mouth and tore the shirt over his head. “Smart girlfriends are the best.”

  Before Emmie could think about the word Ox had casually thrown out, he thoroughly—very thoroughly—distracted her, and she didn’t think about anything for another hour. Or so.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Ox was singing along to the radio as he drove through the country. The storm had washed the dust from the hills and water pooled on the roads. He splashed through deep puddles and bumped over potholes the farther he got toward the ranch. The front pasture would probably be flooded, but luckily Cary and another neighbor had finished the repair on the north pasture while his mom had been in the hospital. There were probably a million things to do, but Ox had a shit-eating grin on his face that would not leave.

  He was in love and she loved him back.

  The evening had started out the way the entire weekend had gone. He was exhausted and wrung out. He knew Emmie had to be mad at him for disappearing, but he’d figured he could apologize and hopefully talk his way onto her couch because he just needed to see her. He’d been driving down Main Street and glancing in the glowing windows of the restaurants downtown, thinking he should take Emmie out someplace nice instead of diner food or tacos. His truck jerked to a stop in the middle of Main Street when he saw them.

  Emmie and some dude. It wasn’t Ethan or Jeremy, one of her friends. It was fucking Adrian Saroyan. He could tell by the slick hair and the suit.

  A car had honked behind him and Ox didn’t think. He pulled into the first parking spot he could find and marched into the restaurant where he’d seen her. He was a mess. He’d probably ruined the carpet. He didn’t give a shit. He hauled Emmie out into the pouring rain and ended up having the hottest damn sex of his entire life.

  And then he’d had to leave this morning.

  Smart girlfriends are the best girlfriends.

  When he’d left, Emmie was on her laptop, researching the best home remedies and natural diets to control high blood pressure. She’d given him a cookbook to take to Melissa and made him promise to text when he got to the ranch.

  So fucking adorable.

  He pulled up to the cattle gate and saw that, yes, the front pasture was flooded. Luckily the barn sat on a hillside, and so the corral by the house was fine, as were the animal pens near the barn. He drove through, closed the gate behind him, and saw Melissa and Cary talking on the porch.

  Nope. Not talking. Arguing.

  Cary threw up his hands and stomped to his truck. He drove d
own the road, stopping and rolling down his window when he passed Ox.

  “Hey,” the older man said. “Did you know your sister is the most stubborn damn woman on the planet?”

  “Yeah. Do you know you’re in love with her?”

  “Shut the fuck up.” Cary glared. “How’s your girl?”

  “She’s okay. Pissed at me for not telling her what was going on, but I talked her around.”

  Cary grunted. “I’m trying to get Melissa to let my mom come over and stay with Joan. My mom would be happy to help, but they’re both being stubborn and reminding me my mom is seventy-two. I fucking know my mom is seventy-two. She reminds me every day while she’s kicking my ass in one way or another.”

  “Your mom is a badass.” Ox glanced at the house. “Just tell her to come up. They can’t say anything once she’s here, and Melissa can use the help. I’m going to have to cut back at the tattoo shop and—”

  “Why?”

  “What?”

  Cary frowned. “You can’t cut back at the shop, man. You’re just starting out. You don’t have any employees. You need to get back to work.”

  Ox waved a hand out at the flooded pasture. “Between this storm and my mom having to cut back, there’s no way Melissa—”

  “Your sister can fucking ask for help when she needs it from people who are offering to help her and not from her brother who has his own damn life and his own damn business! Don’t piss me off. Besides, you’re good with cattle, but you know shit about trees.” Cary rolled up his window and drove off without another word.

  Ox couldn’t stop the smile. The man was gone over his sister and had been for years. But talking Melissa around to anything was damn near impossible. She hated asking for help from anyone and only relented when it was family.

  Melissa had her arms folded across her chest and was glaring at Cary’s truck as it drove away.

  “Hey,” Ox said. “I see everyone is in a good mood here. How’s Mom?”

  Melissa turned her glare to him, looked him up and down. “Someone got laid,” she muttered. “Is your shop still standing?”

  “I am not talking about my sex life with my sister.”

  “Gross.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was just asking if the business was okay, not if you and Emmie—” She put both hands over her eyes. “Brain bleach!”

  Ox chuckled and wrapped his arms around his sister’s tense shoulders. “I’m fine. We’re fine. I’m happy as shit actually, which is why I’m hugging you. You look like you need a hug. What do you need help with?”

  Melissa sighed and unleashed the litany of things that needed to happen that day. Ox felt tired just hearing it, but he went inside, changed his clothes, and got to work.

  He returned to Metlin with a duffel bag in the passenger seat and a sore back just in time to meet one of his clients who’d booked a session two weeks before. He left his client waiting in the shop while he ran upstairs and knocked on the door to the apartment.

  Tayla answered. “Hey, ghost boy.” She opened the door wider to let him in. “Emmie, Ox is here.”

  “Hey.” He walked to her bedroom as she opened the door, pulled her inside, and sat on the bed, drawing Emmie between his legs. His cock immediately went to attention. It was as if it had some Emmie-bed radar. His cock would have to be patient.

  “How’s your mom?” she asked.

  Ox smiled. “She’s feeling better. Liked the cookbook.”

  “I’m glad.” She put her hands on his shoulders. “I was thinking we could go out for dinner. Maybe—”

  “I’ve got a client downstairs that I forgot about until he texted me this afternoon.”

  Emmie groaned. “Really?”

  He let his head fall against her and inhaled. Her scent was some combination of her detergent and her shampoo and her soap and sometimes a little perfume, and it was all just Emmie and it was so damn good.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist. “I promise it’s only going to be an hour, hour and a half max. And then I’ll kick him out and we can go out. Is that cool?”

  “That’s cool.”

  Emmie rubbed her hand over the nape of his neck, playing with the short hairs and making his cock even harder. It was impossible not to want her, but he really didn’t want to walk downstairs to his client with a hard-on.

  “Tell me more about distribution agreements and returns,” he said.

  Emmie pulled back. “You hate that stuff. Your eyes glaze over when I talk about distribution.”

  “I know, but I can’t go meet Clyde with a hard-on. Talk.”

  Emmie laughed and shoved him away. “Stop. Why don’t you think about the expanded list of questions Tayla has ready for you?”

  “I bet.” He could tell her best friend was pissed at him. That was a situation that would have to be remedied because if there was one thing you didn’t fuck up, it was being in good standing with your girl’s best friend.

  Ox stood and rubbed his hand over his scalp. “Hair’s getting long.”

  “Do you ever grow it?”

  He shook his head. “It just annoys me. I’ll shave it tomorrow.” He bent down and kissed her quickly. “I’ll try to be fast.”

  “Don’t rush poor Clyde. You’ll end up spelling his kid’s name wrong or something, and no one wants that.”

  “Would I do that?” He walked out of Emmie’s bedroom and saw Tayla sitting at the kitchen counter, looking through a magazine and giving him the stink-eye. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll be back later and you can interrogate me.”

  “I’m glad you’ve resigned yourself to your fate,” Tayla muttered. “Later.”

  “Later.” Ox kissed Emmie again at the door, still unable to wipe the smile off his face. “See you soon.”

  “You called me your girlfriend this morning.”

  “Yeah.”

  She looked to the side. “So you’re my boyfriend now?”

  “I better fucking be. You think I’m gonna let some other asshole have the job?” He laughed when her cheeks turned red. “So damn sweet.”

  “Go to work,” she said. “You’re violating the… clause in the employee manual.”

  She shut the door, and Ox walked downstairs to see Clyde paging through a design book Emmie had left out on the coffee table. It wouldn’t have been notable except for the fact that Clyde was about sixty, had naked pinups on both biceps, and Ox was pretty sure he lived in a battered old trailer on the edge of town. Ox did not expect Clyde to be looking at Tiny House Living.

  Clyde looked up. “Thinking about redoing the kitchen.”

  “Cool.” He glanced at Clyde’s hairy shoulder. “We still starting the cover-up on the ex-wife?”

  “Yep.”

  “Let’s get you shaved.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Two weeks of relative peace passed before Ginger made her third visit to INK. This time she ignored Emmie completely and marched straight over to Ox, who was sketching before his first client came. Emmie saw him glance up then look down again.

  “Go away,” he said.

  “Are you still doing the Celtic-knot-work stuff?” she asked without preamble.

  “Yep.” He didn’t look up.

  Emmie glanced around the shop. She was working on the online store on the computer and only had two browsers, one of whom seemed determined to read the newest thriller in one-hour chunks on his lunch break instead of buying the hardback. Of course, he also helped himself to the free coffee INK offered.

  Grrrrrrr.

  No one paid attention to Ginger and Ox except Emmie.

  “You’re the last person I want to give business to, but I have a client I like—

  “That’s exceptional,” Ox said.

  “Look who’s using five-dollar words now. Aren’t you precious?” Ginger said. “Anyway, my client’s boyfriend wants like a shield thing on his shoulder, and I don’t have anyone who does the knot-work stuff anymore. He says it’s Irish, so I thought of you.”

  “A shield?�
�� Ox looked up. “What—”

  “Saint Patrick’s shield or something.”

  Ox frowned. “I don’t know what he’s talking about. I wish I could help, but…”

  “Probably Saint Patrick’s breastplate,” Emmie said from across the shop. “It’s not really a shield; it’s a prayer.”

  “Oh,” Ox said. “I know what he’s talking about if it’s that. ‘God’s might to uphold me, God’s wisdom to guide me, et cetera.’”

  “It’s a long prayer,” Emmie said. “I don’t think he’d want the whole thing. Maybe an excerpt.”

  Ox nodded. “I imagine he wants some scrollwork or design around it. Tell him to come in or you can give him my card.” He looked at Emmie. “Thanks, Em.”

  Ginger sneered. “Yeah, thanks for eavesdropping, Em.”

  “You’re welcome.” Emmie decided to ignore Ginger. After all, she was giving Ox business, and she was mostly being civil.

  Unfortunately, the interchange had attracted Mr. Read Not Buy’s attention. “Is it really eavesdropping if it’s her own shop?” he asked the room.

  Emmie’s other browser spoke from the self-help section. “I could hear her from the back corner, so it’s not really eavesdropping at all.”

  Mr. Read Not Buy said, “I’m just saying. She was being helpful, so I don’t understand the tone.”

  “Know what she’d probably find helpful?” Ginger asked. “If you bought the fucking book instead of walking your fancy ass down here every afternoon to read it for free, asshole.”

  “That’s enough.” Emmie’s heart was in her throat, but she kept talking, pretending it was a rowdy customer in someone else’s store and not Ox’s ex-girlfriend. “You’re welcome to speak to Ox, but you’re not welcome to insult my customers. If you can’t be polite, please leave.”

  Ginger turned back to Ox. “This uptight bitch is who you’re fucking now?”