Savoring Mila (Angels Halo MC Next Gen & Rockers' Legacy Book 3)

by Terri Anne Browning

  “You visit often?” Please, fuck please, say yes.

  “This is my first visit. My dad isn’t a fan of big-city life.” Another drink and my beer was down to just suds in the bottom of the glass. She placed it on the bar top and motioned to the bartender for a refill.

  My fingers tightened around hers, desperation suddenly clawing at me. “When do you go home?”

  “Tomorrow night,” she said with a casual shrug, not realizing she was turning my world upside down. I had less than twenty-four hours with her before she was going to get on a fucking plane and leave me.

  The thought of her not being in the same city—fuck, just imagining her not being beside me tomorrow night—made it hard to breathe.

  “Lyric?” Her hand was flush against my chest, so of course, she felt the change in my heart rate and breathing. Her free hand touched the side of my face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “You’re leaving tomorrow,” I choked out past the constriction in my throat.

  “Yeah,” she agreed, and when she moved a little more into my space, I was finally able to breathe deeply. “But…there’s still tonight.”

  Chapter 4

  Mila

  The bartender set the refilled beer between us, but my focus was completely on Lyric.

  The pounding of his heart against his ribs vibrated through my fingers and up my arm, but at least his breathing had evened out. Had he really nearly had a panic attack at the idea of me leaving?

  That was oddly sweet, and I found myself wanting to know everything there was to know about this guy. He’d sent his friend running with just a look, but his eyes had been murky brown, and I’d wanted to erase that color from his gaze.

  The feeling that he looked familiar kept nagging at me, but I pushed it down, not wanting to focus on it. We were in the VIP of one of New York City’s hottest clubs; of course there were celebrities running around. I just didn’t want to think about Lyric being one.

  All I wanted was some fun until I found the guy who would love me like Dad loved Mom. I wasn’t going to settle for anything less than the guy I loved loving me as completely as my parents loved each other. It was a hard act to follow, but I wasn’t going to compromise.

  That we were running on such a short time frame told me that Lyric wasn’t going to be my future, but he looked like he could give me what I wanted for one night.

  “Can we get out of here?” I asked him as I looked up at him through my lashes. “I don’t want to waste our night together surrounded by curious eyes and music so loud I can’t hear myself think.”

  His brown eyes stopped swirling russet and amber and settled into a cinnamon color that became my newest favorite color, the perfect blend of the two. “Whatever you want, my Mila.” Taking my hand, he started to tug me away from the bar and toward the nearest exit, but I couldn’t just leave without telling someone where I was going.

  My brother and cousins would throw a huge fit, and someone would call Dad and I wouldn’t get my one night with Lyric.

  “Wait,” I said and turned us toward where Monroe was sitting.

  Several feet behind the couch, Maverick was sitting with River, so I waved my sister over. She rolled her eyes at me but got to her feet and walked over to us, muttering something that had River pulling Mav’s head down and distracting the hell out of him with her lips.

  “What’s wrong?” Monroe asked, her gaze lifting to take in Lyric before going back to me. Her eyes were still full of sadness, and it wasn’t a second later before she was reaching for that damn medallion that wasn’t around her neck. When she didn’t feel it, she balled her hand into a tight fist and dropped it to her side.

  “Mon, this is Lyric. Lyric, my sister, Monroe,” I introduced. “Now you know who I’m with. We’re going to get out of here. Please cover for me.”

  My sister was used to me doing things like this, so it didn’t surprise her, but she still shook her head at me. “Mila.”

  “Thanks, Mon,” I said, kissing her cheek. “I’ll owe you one,” I told her before stepping back. “I promise to be there before it’s time to leave for the church.”

  “You better be,” she grumbled and walked back to her chair.

  “You have a twin sister?” Lyric commented as we walked out of the club.

  I shrugged. “Monroe and I are identical, but we’re actually triplets. My brother, Maverick, was the one lip-locked with the gorgeous blonde.”

  “Mila.” He stopped once we were outside and turned to face me. “I have an identical twin brother.”

  Surprised, I blinked up at him a few times then ran my eyes over him from head to toe again. “Your poor mother,” I said with a grin. “She had to birth two of you beasts at once?”

  A hearty laugh left him. “Guess that’s why she and Dad stopped after us.” Lifting a hand, he hailed a taxi. Not surprisingly, one pulled right up beside us within seconds. “You hungry?”

  Even though it hadn’t been that long since I’d had Taco Bell with the others, I wasn’t going to turn down more food. I might have been on the small side, but I loved to eat. “I’m always hungry,” I told him as he slid into the back seat of the taxi before I could. Once I was beside him, I poked him in the ribs. “That wasn’t very gentlemanly of you, mister.”

  Not that I was used to guys treating me like a lady, but for some reason, it had surprised me that Lyric hadn’t let me in first.

  “It’s dangerous for a girl to get into a cab or an Uber first. The driver could drive away before I get a chance to get in.” He draped his arm over the back of the seat, and he turned his big body toward me. “My mom would kick my ass if I ever let a woman I’m with get into either before me, but I’m especially not taking the risk with you.”

  “Because I’m oh-so-special,” I teased.

  But his face was serious as he lowered his head so that our gazes locked in the dim light coming through the windows. “Yes,” was all he murmured before touching his lips to the corner of my mouth.

  The kiss was over before I could even respond, and then he was lifting his head and telling the driver the address of his hotel. “Room service okay?” he asked, sitting back. Reaching across himself, he grabbed my hand and entwined our fingers. “If not, I think there is a really good restaurant across the street.”

  “Room service is perfect,” I assured him, loving how he was playing with my fingers. His hand was so big, my hand looked childlike in his. It should have been weird, yet it was kind of comforting.

  All my life, I had been surrounded by big, alpha MC men who would kill anyone who so much as looked threateningly at me. Not that I needed them to. My mom and aunts had more than taught me how to take care of myself. Yet right there in the back of that taxi with Lyric—a guy whose last name I didn’t even know—I’d never felt safer.

  “What’s your last name?” he asked when the driver stopped for the next red light.

  “Masterson. Yours?”

  He frowned down at me. “You don’t know who I am?”

  I elbowed him in the side. “Am I supposed to? I’ll admit you look familiar to me, but no, I don’t have a clue who you are.”

  A huge grin split his face, making him that much more handsome. Damn, but when he grinned like that, I became spellbound. It wasn’t fair. Guys shouldn’t look that good—ever.

  “My mom will fucking love you,” he muttered, shaking his dark head. “My last name is Thornton.”

  Oh shit.

  My sharp inhale told him I’d put it together, and he only laughed. “Yeah, Jesse Thornton is my dad. Luca Thornton is my twin brother.”

  “Luca means nothing to me. I’m not even sure why you would bring him up.” I touched my ribs where the verse of my favorite Demon’s Wings song was tattooed. Dear Lord, Lyric’s dad was the drummer of my all-time favorite band.

  Fuck, I’d only had one shot of the Spirytus…right?

  This couldn’t be real life. A girl like me didn’t hook up with the son of the richest drummer in the wo
rld. I had to be dreaming…or hallucinating.

  “You must not follow football, then,” he said, not seeming in the least offended I didn’t know who his brother was. “Luca just went into the draft this spring. He was a first-round pick for Tennessee.”

  “My brother would understand what you just said, but none of that makes the slightest bit of sense to me.” I wasn’t going to pretend to know what kind of draft his twin had been in or what team Tennessee was. I knew there were a few pro teams in California, but other than that, football was not a language I spoke.

  His laugh vibrated through him and into me, making my chest swell at the sound. “I love that you don’t know who he is, or understand anything about football. Means I can teach you and you haven’t ever salivated over my bro like so many others have.”

  “Well, I mean, I’ve been kind of drooling over you for a good thirty minutes now,” I told him with a teasing smirk. “You’re identical, so that kinda means I have been. No!” I squealed when he started tickling me. “Okay, I’m sorry,” I giggled, but I didn’t try to get away from him. “Please. I didn’t mean it.”

  “You’re so damn beautiful,” he growled, lowering his head to touch his lips to the sensitive skin directly under my ear. “And that giggle. Fuck, I’ve never heard a prettier sound in my life.”

  Gasping for breath that had nothing to do with laughing so hard, I turned my head and brushed my lips over his. It was just a quick touch of our mouths, but when I pulled back and licked my lips, all I could taste was him.

  “Wh-what job did you land?” I stuttered, needing to put our minds on something other than how much we wanted each other. “You… You said you got your…erm, dream job?”

  His tongue skimmed over his bottom lip, as if savoring my taste just as much as I had his. “I start working with Dustin Branch at Branch House of Ink on Monday.”

  “You what?” I half screamed, so damn excited for him, I was practically bouncing on the bench seat.

  No tattoo enthusiast in the country could say they didn’t know who Dustin Branch was. The man was a legend and didn’t hire just anyone. If Lyric had scored a job working under the genius artist, he must have some sick skills. “That is phenomenal, Lyric. I’m so proud of you. My dad owns the only ink shop in Creswell Springs, but he would give that up in the blink of an eye to work with Branch for a single weekend.”

  “Is your dad hiring?” he asked, making me laugh so hard, I snorted.

  “That’s hilarious.”

  “Yeah, hilarious,” he muttered, not even cracking a smile for a moment before changing the subject. “You work at your pop’s place?”

  “Sometimes. I run the front on the weekends or when things get really busy in the evening after school. I have no artistic skills. Those traits only passed to Maverick, who started apprenticing the second we turned eighteen a few weeks ago.”

  “You’re freshly eighteen?” he asked with a raised brow.

  “I’m legal,” I rushed to assure him. “Don’t think you’re with jailbait, okay?”

  “Wouldn’t have mattered,” he said, but it was almost like he was talking to himself, he spoke so quietly. “I’m lost, and you’re still turning me in circles, my Mila.”

  Chapter 5

  Lyric

  Stephen lived in the city, had grown up there, and probably would die there. But his apartment was small, and we were both bulky guys. I didn’t want to trip over him every time I turned around, so I was staying in a hotel until I found my own place. When I group-texted Mom and Aunt Emmie earlier to tell them I got the job, my aunt said she was already looking at apartments and would send me the details.

  But I would worry about that later. Tonight, all my focus was on Mila.

  With a buffet of room service spread around the sitting area of my hotel room, she was shamelessly eating everything in sight, and I fucking loved it. Most girls I shared a meal with would order a salad and pick at it, as if they were afraid of showing me they actually ate. It was annoying and boring.

  My Mila was anything but boring. She was full of spirit and fire, and every word out of her sexy as hell mouth knocked me on my ass.

  As she used a fork to eat a boneless wing smothered in barbecue sauce and dipped in ranch, she flipped through my portfolio. Every turn of the page, she made an appreciative noise, admiring my work, and I was filled with pride all over again. But nothing—fucking nothing—could compare to her saying she was proud of me for landing the job at Branch House of Ink.

  My parents, aunts, uncles, and all my cousins had been so excited for me when I told them I was interviewing with Dustin. But all their excitement combined had nothing on how Mila’s eyes had sparkled in the passing lights as she’d commended me for my accomplishment.

  “How many tattoos do you have?” I asked, spying the edge of some sick line work on her shoulder.

  “Five,” she said, not looking up from examining the portrait I’d done for my cousin Mia’s husband, Barrick, of their baby girl. It had only been his second tattoo, and he’d sweated bullets the whole time he was in my chair. Unfortunately for him, it had taken a few sessions, but he hadn’t whined once. Normally when I got people who were as scared of needles as he was, they complained the entire session. “She is so beautiful,” she murmured softly, skimming her fingers over Emerson’s cheek.

  “That’s Little Em,” I told her. “She looks just like her mom and grandma.”

  She stuffed the last bite off her fork into her mouth. “You got a picture of her?”

  If it had been anyone else, I would have brushed her off and told her I didn’t have any. But this girl was going to be Emerson’s family, so I didn’t hesitate to take out my phone. After pulling up the last batch of pictures I’d taken while I was at Mia’s house, I handed it over.

  “She adores you,” she observed. “The way she’s kissing your cheek in this picture, you seem to be her favorite person.”

  “Nah, her favorite person is her grandpa, Nik.” I leaned back, shaking my head at how spoiled Little Em was by both her grandparents. “I thought my niece Hayat was spoiled by my dad, but he’s got nothing on Uncle Nik and Emerson.”

  She flipped through a few more pictures, but when I sensed her mood shifting, I leaned over to see what she was looking at. Seeing the selfie I’d taken of my cousin Arella and me, I hid a grin. From the stiffness of her body, the way her gray eyes were narrowed and her nose was flaring, I knew she was jealous.

  “That’s Arella,” I explained when she didn’t ask about the picture. “Unlike a lot of my cousins, who are only honorary family and not actually blood-related, Arella’s mom and mine are sisters.”

  “This is Arella Stevenson?” she half shouted, her eyes focusing on the phone screen once again. “But she looks nothing like this on TV.”

  I leaned forward and stabbed my fork into another boneless wing before lifting it to her lips. “She refused to dye her hair blond, so she wears a wing. And supposedly, she spends an hour in the makeup chair every morning to look less like herself. Why, I don’t know. She’s a fucking amazing actress and beautiful as hell, but they wanted to change the entire shape of her face for that stupid part.”

  Arella wasn’t happy working on that drama. It was in its third season, but my cousin said that it was likely the last one. She loved acting, but her heart just wasn’t in the character she was currently playing. After the show ended, she said she was going to branch out, maybe do some overseas work. Not that she ever needed to work. Between the money her grandfather left her, her sisters, and Aunt Lana when he passed the year before, and the trust fund her dad had set up for her, she didn’t have to work a day in her life.

  But like me, and our other cousins, she wanted to work. Wanted to earn her own way and find herself in the process. The Arella who wasn’t just the rock legend’s granddaughter or the Demon’s daughter. When she’d landed the lead female role in that stupid-ass drama, people started saying she’d only gotten the part because of who her family was.
Usually it was jealous twats who wanted what she had and thought by trashing Arella’s name, they could build themselves up and steal her spotlight.

  But she never let that bring her down. She only lifted her head higher and showed the world just how perfect she was for the role she was playing. Even though she hated it, she gave the job one hundred percent, and I respected her for that.

  “Tell me, Mr. Famous Tattoo Artist,” Mila said after chewing the piece of chicken I’d fed her. “After knowing me for two hours, what tattoo would you give me to remember you by?”

  “You want me to ink you, baby?” I asked, leaning forward to lick the smear of barbecue from the corner of her mouth.

  I heard her breath hitch, and I pulled back, smirking down at her.

  “I want to remember this night for the rest of my life,” she whispered. Then she blinked and cleared her throat. “You got your gear?”

  “Never leave home without it,” I said and got to my feet. Walking into the bedroom, I grabbed the bag that had my tattoo gun, ink, and fresh needles. Going back to her, I laid everything out. “You’ll let me have free rein?” She nodded, continuing to eat. “Anywhere I want?”

  “As long as it’s somewhere my dad can’t see. He has this one rule when it comes to his kids getting tattoos. He’s the only one who can put ink on us. I got my first tattoo at fifteen, and he and Mom didn’t have a problem with it because it was Dad doing it.” She looked up at me, her eyes full of so much trust, it took me a second before I could draw in a deep breath. “But I need you to mark my skin, Lyric.”

  I wanted to grab her and mark every inch of her with my lips, possess each part of her, show her that she was mine. But once I touched her the way I needed to, it would be game over. I wouldn’t let her go until she begged me to release her, and even then, I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to watch her walk away.

  “Take off your shirt,” I commanded.