He liked bikes, beers, and our bitch. That meant we were connected on a soul deep level. Throw in the fact he loved ice hockey, hated the Patriots, and liked wrestling? I knew we’d get on just fine.
“Can we go upstairs?”
The breathy question had us both laughing, but Ink shook his head. “Nope. Not yet.”
“W-Why?” she wailed, and I couldn’t stop myself from slipping my hand onto her belly, before lowering it between her legs. She was wet—wet enough to make the denim short shorts damp. Fuck.
“Because you’re greedy,” Ink told her, bussing her on the nose with a kiss.
She pouted. “Thought that was a good thing?”
“Oh, it is, honey, but sometimes, waiting is good for the soul.” He dropped his mouth to her ear, and I shifted my hold on her so I could listen too. “I want you to wait, want you to beg for us when we get back. I want you to think of nothing else but that hungry, greedy little pussy of yours until we get home. I want you so wet that whenever I feel between your legs, my fingers come back wet. I want that little cunt so desperate for us that you’ll do anything we want the second we ask it. I want you to be one big ache for us.”
Fuck. Now I wanted to go upstairs.
Shit.
“That’s a lot of ‘wants,’” she hiccupped, her body rippling between us.
“That’s because you make me greedy too,” he growled, his eyes darkening in a way that didn’t bode well for Ama in the morning—she was gonna be walking like she’d ridden a horse up to Chicago.
I nipped at her ear. “And me.”
A high-pitched moan escaped her. “You’re killing me.”
I laughed. “No, baby, we’re making you live. Ain’t life grand?”
23
Keys
“Damn, that’s good, Ama,” Ink rasped.
I stared at her, watching her bounce on her toes as Ink began wiping off the excess ink on Bridges’ calf.
The sight of his momma and him as a baby hooked on her hip was beyond hyperrealism. It was like looking at the photograph, to be sure, but it was more. There were little flourishes here and there that made it look more.
The way Bridges’ momma was holding him was tighter than in the picture somehow, and the tilt of Bridges’ head and his momma’s was like they were staring deep into each other’s eyes.
It made me glad that she’d created my tattoo, and that very soon, I’d be getting it on tick, as well. There were perks to being in a weird ass relationship with a tattoo artist.
It was all in the family.
Just as Ama would be after today.
Once Ink’s hand stopped aching after that long session, he was marking her as ours.
Could I say I wasn’t uneasy about this future of ours? Nope, I couldn’t. But, to be fair, I wasn’t sure if I’d be uneasy about it if it was just her and me.
Ama called to me in a way no other woman ever had. It made a man edgy, knowing that link, that connection, was there. Sure, I was grateful for it, but I was eighteen years old, and I hopefully had a long life left.
My unease didn’t stem from the living situation, or the fact that I was young. It stemmed from who Ama was as a person.
The thought of letting her down, of not being good enough for her? It fucked with my head, and I had to admit, scared me. I was nervous about it. Nervous that I’d fuck up and would fuck with her heart. That was the last thing I wanted to do. It would kill me if I did that.
“It’s normal to be nervous.”
I flinched, not having realized Flame had shown up. “Sir?”
He cut me a look. “Sir? Just call me Flame.”
Gulping, I said, “Sure.”
“You called me it before.”
“Wasn’t a prospect before. Just a snot-nosed kid living under your roof.”
He shrugged. “Well, now you’re not. It’s normal to be nervous,” he repeated. “I didn’t have this scene today, you know?”
“What? Lucie wears your marks though.”
Flame’s lips twitched. “She didn’t need our permission to get them done. She showed up with all our claims on her.”
I laughed. “Sounds like something Lucie would do.”
Flame grinned at that, outright grinned. Then he tipped his head at the way Ink was wrapping up Bridges’ calf in Saran wrap. “That her first?”
“Yep. Pretty much. A portrait.”
“You take a picture?”
“I did.” I grabbed my cell and showed him. When he whistled, I nodded. “Something else, right?”
“Jay-sus,” he drawled. “Ama, baby, I’m gonna need me some new ink.”
Ama’s eyes sparkled as she grinned at him, but she didn’t move away from Ink, not as she watched him give the speech on aftercare as he carefully tended to the tattoo he’d just spent hours on.
Flame’s grin didn’t die as he stared down at me. “You look like a man who has second thoughts. You gonna pull a Julia Roberts on me?”
“A what now?” I queried, brow puckering.
“Julia Roberts. Runaway Bride.” He waved a hand. “Lucie made me watch it. That and Pretty Woman.” He winced. “Only made bearable by the fact she gave me a BJ during. Not that I’d share those pertinent facts with anyone else, mind you. But you’re family.”
“Probably all the more reason not to tell me, Flame,” I muttered, crinkling my nose.
“Well, regardless. You look edgy. Why?”
“I’m nervous.” I shrugged. “Don’t want to let her down.”
“Be yourself and you won’t.”
I cut him a look and started jangling my keys. “That sounds too simple.”
“No. It’s just how it is. You can’t live like this and not be true to yourself, Jamie. Ama is a good woman. She’s strong, and she’ll love you forever just like she has since you were first friends. That love ain’t gonna die if you decide you can’t live like she needs—”
Dammit to hell. Grunting, I turned on him and hissed, “What the fuck is this? Look, I wasn’t happy about it at first, sure. But it has nothing to do with sharing her. These past several weeks have shown me that. I’ve loved the time we’ve spent together, and Saint is my brother in more ways than just the MC. Ink, he was new to me, but he’s cool as fuck.
“My issue ain’t with sharing her. Not like I thought it might be when this first started, ya know? It’s with fucking up. Letting her down. I’m scared about that.”
Flame grabbed me by the shoulder. “Those are the kind of doubts I like to hear.”
“Why?” I grumbled. “I sound like a pussy.”
“You sound like a man who’s about to start a lifelong relationship with a woman he adores. We all get scared about fucking up, but to be honest, we fuck up anyway.” He shrugged. “Remember how I watched Pretty Woman? Well, Axe chose not to. That’s the joy of this life. It’s not all on you. All you’ll miss out on is a potential BJ for your pains… So, you feel like you’re gonna fuck up, send Saint or Ink in.”
“You mean tag-team her?”