Abiding Ink (Inked in the Steel City #4) (11 page)

“Oh my God,” she said, eyeing the bounty that gleamed from within. Bags, boxes and bars – the cabinet
was
loaded with chocolate. Milk, dark and caramel-filled … those varieties were just the tip of the iceberg. It was like a chocolate-hoarding dragon lived in the apartment, instead of a man. “You’re serious.”

His raised brow crept a little higher, and he shrugged. “I told you.”

“I’m sorry I laughed. I thought you were joking. Do you really have the tattoo, too?”

He glanced down at his chest, eyeing his shirt like he expected it to magically disappear … and then he raised his gaze, begging the silent question. “You want to see that for yourself too?”

“Yes. And I’ll … I’ll try not to laugh. Really.”

“You won’t hurt my feelings if you laugh,” he said, gripping the hem of his shirt. “I’m a badass, remember?”

She barely choked back a giggle, even as a distinct thrill raced down her spine, causing her to tingle from head to toe with expectation. This was what Tyler had reduced her to: a would-be giggler standing with her hands clasped, practically bouncing on her toes as she relished the idea of eyeing his chocoholic tattoo.

She didn’t even know herself anymore.

“Don’t be a tease,” she said, catching a glimmer of amusement in his eyes for the first time. It must be obvious how badly she wanted to see the ink that normally remained hidden by his shirt.

“All right.”

He pulled his shirt over his head, and she sucked in a breath.

He worked out, definitely – that was the first thing she noticed. The second was that he hadn’t been lying – his chest
was
tattooed. Barely remembering to breathe, she scanned his bare torso for any sign of a dancing chocolate.

It was hard to focus on any single area or tattoo when there was so much to look at. Below his broad shoulders, there was a tattoo over the left one, extending down onto his chest, where he’d indicated. It wasn’t a chocolate, though. It was a bird of prey – an eagle, maybe – elaborately done in a dark and detailed black and grey design. Below it was a line of script.
November 9
, it read, bold and simple, a mystery to her.

And below … farther down, his torso wasn’t inked, but God, did it draw the eye. His abs rippled, begging to be touched, and two slashing lines of muscle formed a tempting V that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans.

“You!” she managed to say after staring for way too long. “You
were
teasing. God, I can’t believe I believed you!” She laughed, figuring her promise was off.

Slowly, his full lips cracked, spreading into a broad grin that reached the corners of his eyes. “I can’t believe you believed me, either.”

She huffed, laughing again and crossing her arms. “I didn’t believe you at first. Not really. Then I saw your chocolate stash…”

“It’s not mine – it’s my sister’s. She lives in this same complex and says she can’t keep chocolate at her place because her roommates take it. So I let her stash it here. She’s the chocoholic in the family.”

“Oh. So I guess you didn’t fall in love at Hershey, then. Was everything you told me a lie?” His grin was infectious – she couldn’t help but return it as she stood, trying and failing to glare at him.

“I prefer to think of them as excuses, not lies.”

“Excuses to what?”

He raised his hands in a gesture that drew her gaze back to all the perfect skin he had on display. “To take off my clothes, obviously.”

“That was quite the scheme.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been thinking about the other night, on the roof, ever since it happened. Now that there’s no danger of frostbite, anything that involves taking off clothing seems like a good idea.”

He locked her in eye contact again, and her teasing reply died on the tip of her tongue.

“Yeah, well…” She echoed him lamely, her palms suddenly burning with the desire to be pressed flat against his body. “I’ve been thinking about it too.” She decided not to confess exactly how excited the idea of seeing his Hershey’s Kiss tattoo had made her, mostly because she suspected he already knew. “Frostbite risk or not, I thought it was romantic. Up there. With you.” She bit her tongue before she could burst into full-out babble mode.

It was hard to resist the urge. Tyler’s hotness radiated across the few scant feet between them, scrambling her thoughts. As she stared, she remembered the magic of being up on the roof with him, the feeling that she’d been trapped inside a snow globe with the sexiest guy she’d met in, well … ever. Despite the snowflakes that had swirled around them, the cold hadn’t touched her while she’d been in his arms.

“What about now?” he asked, the teasing light fading from his eyes. “Can I kiss you like that again, or was my chocolate scheme too much?”

The coffee maker gave a hiss that covered up Mallory’s sharp intake of breath. “You can kiss me like that again.”

Normally, she wasn’t prone to fits of passion, but that was the only way she could describe what she slipped into as Tyler crossed the space between them, pulling her close against his body. It was just like on the roof, only now, there weren’t layers of winter clothing between their bodies. There was just her sweater, and nothing at all between her hands and his skin.

The muscles in his sides were just as firm to the touch as she’d imagined, and even hotter. Compared to the chill breeze that blew outside, he was as warm as summer. Warmer, even, especially his lips – they burnt against hers, and she could feel the slight scrape of barely-there stubble on his jaw. The smoothness of his tongue stood in stark contrast, and she yielded to him when he slipped it into her mouth, past her lips and teeth.

He held her with one hand in her hair – she’d worn it down – and the other against the small of her back. The position would’ve been innocent enough, if she hadn’t been able to feel his erection against her belly. As it was, she felt it – every inch of it. His jeans didn’t begin to hide the hardness, or the thickness. Unable to resist, she leaned into him, letting the stiffness press more firmly against her body.

As he ran his hand up and down her back, caressing her from hip to shoulder, she was sure: this definitely qualified as a fit of passion, at least by her standards. The realization was fleeting, though – a somewhat bemused thought relegated to the backburner of her mind. It was also the only thing that explained how she ended up on the counter, supported by Tyler as she perched on the edge, her thighs open so that he could stand between them.

Her hand bumped something and sent it sliding across the counter.

“Oh, no,” she breathed as the sound of breaking glass shattered the silence and their lips finally parted.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tyler said, glancing down at the floor for the briefest of moments. “It’s just the lid to the sugar jar.”

Mallory glanced to her right and saw what she’d bumped – a little glass dish that, sure enough, had been full of sugar. Most of its contents had spilled across the counter, forming a mini-avalanche of snowy whiteness. “Careful not to step on the pieces,” she said as he ran a hand up and down her thigh, his eyes locking with hers again.

“Right.” He leaned in for another kiss, and she let herself explore the exposed planes of his torso, from the place on his chest where his eagle tattoo was to the hard lines that slashed down to his groin. If she moved her hand any farther below, she’d encounter the stiffness straining his jeans. It was a tempting thought – she missed the feel of it pressed up against her body.

As his tongue delved deep into her mouth, a burst of boldness hit her. She already had her legs wrapped around his waist, and she’d broken the lid to his sugar jar – not that he seemed to care. Clearly, they’d passed the point of timidity, so why not?

He moaned the instant her fingertips brushed the head of his dick, a blunt curve she could feel just below his jeans button. The sound, combined with the feel of him, made her core draw tight, alerting her to the fact that her panties had grown damp against her skin. When he kissed her harder, she moaned too, letting her fingers follow the hard and straight line of his shaft, feeling him from tip to base through his jeans.

Every inch was a thrill as she imagined him kicking his jeans to the floor, bare for her, eventually pressing inside her. It was so easy to imagine those sorts of things with him – the thoughts leapt into her head, half-wild and completely irresistible. Retracing the path she’d just forged, she stroked him again, freezing when he slipped a hand beneath the hem of her sweater.

His fingertips rested against her belly, just above one hip, and the simple touch sent ripples of pleasure over her entire body. Her skin tingled and her nipples tightened, shrinking against the cups of her bra. It was a cute one, she remembered with a pang of satisfaction – after what had happened on that rooftop, she’d made sure to choose something flattering to wear beneath her admittedly bulky winter clothing.

When Tyler cupped one of her breasts, massaging the cleavage that swelled over the top of one demi cup, she forgot all about the hint of lace and satin bow that made her lingerie date-worthy. With him touching her like that, all she could think about was getting out of her carefully-chosen undergarments. When the tip of his thumb brushed the edge of her nipple, she gripped him, cradling his balls through his jeans, feeling them hot and heavy in her hand.

With a groan, he squeezed her breast, pulling back and breaking the seal of their kiss.

Before she could so much as sigh in protest, he gripped the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head.

Her hair bounced in a cloud in front of her eyes and around her shoulders, momentarily obscuring her vision. Brushing a few curls out of the way, she blinked, succumbing to a quick head-to-toe tightening as her gaze settled on his hands. They were on his clothing, now – specifically, the fly of his jeans. The muscles in his forearms flexed beneath his colorful sleeves as he pushed his jeans button through its hole. Next thing she knew, the sound of a zipper parting sent a shiver of delight down her spine, and she was reaching for him.

She slipped her hand beneath the cotton waistband of his boxer briefs, exposing hair that was slightly darker than the medium brown that grew on top of his head and elsewhere on his body, including in a diamond in the center of his chest. Plenty of tattoos and just the right amount of body hair – as sexy as it was, she was only able to spare a moment’s appreciation before her fingertips brushed something smooth and hard and she was exposing much more than swirls of ink or hair.

The broad head of his cock rose above his underwear and she slid her hand farther down the shaft, exposing more of him – all of him – by pushing his boxer briefs down past his hips, along with his jeans. He was just as thick as he’d felt before his jeans had come unzipped, and a faint sense of awe washed over her as she wrapped her hand around him, feeling the heat and hardness of his erection in full.

It had been a while since she’d been with anyone, and it wasn’t just the heat of the moment that made her sure she’d never wanted anyone as badly as she wanted him. He leaned into her, sending his shaft sliding against her palm as he crushed his mouth to the side of her neck, teasing her with tongue and teeth.

He was a fantastic kisser, even when he wasn’t kissing her mouth. A frisson zipped down her spine as he slowly worked his way down the arch of her neck, straying toward her collarbone, and then below. When his lips brushed the swell of her breast, the nipple drew even tighter than before, aching. In her mind, she could already feel the heat and pull of his mouth against it, around it. When he ran one hand over her shoulder, brushing her bra strap aside, she sighed.

His breath hit her nipple first, hot and humid, teasing.

She arched her back a little and the hard bud brushed his lips, the feather-light contact sending a bolt of sensation straight to her pussy.

With the same finesse he’d applied to the side of her neck, he closed his lips around her nipple, drawing it into his mouth as he slid a hand around her body, his fingertips fluttering against her spine.

She realized what he was doing when he applied both hands to the task, unhooking her bra as he teased her with his tongue. Her bra fell away, straps sliding down her arms, and she was bare from the waist up, with only his mouth on her breast, one of his hands cradling it from below as he sucked, making her arch until her back ached faintly.

For a few moments, she forgot everything, and then she remembered that his dick was hot and harder than ever in her hand. Breathing a shaky sigh, she ran her hand up and down the shaft, stroking him.

He raised his head, blue eyes locking with her dark ones as he cupped both her breasts in his hands, leaning in for a kiss that left her lips feeling bruised. When it ended, he reached below and unbuttoned her jeans.

Butterflies burst into instant flight inside her belly as he lowered the zipper, fingertips brushing the lace-edged panties that matched her forgotten bra. Relinquishing her grip on his shaft, she leaned back, accidentally setting her hand in spilled sugar as she raised her hips, making it easier for him.

He tugged her jeans down past her hips, then her panties. With the scrap of lavender and ivory cotton and lace still caught in his hands, he froze, gaze hot and heavy on her naked body, a few inches above her aching pussy.

She’d forgotten about her new tattoo. Now, her stomach clenched and tingled, shaking up the butterflies inside as she realized what he was looking at.

Dropping her own gaze, she studied the fresh design for what must’ve been the millionth time. The roses, done in royal purple and black, flowed gracefully over the curve of her hipbone, completely masking the atrocity that had been inked there before. She was so glad she’d gone to Abby for a cover-up that she was tempted to breathe a sigh of relief every time she so much as glimpsed her new ink. The tattoo was still healing, but it was beautiful.

“What do you think?” she asked, her gaze snagging on the hard shaft of Tyler’s cock before she raised it, all the way to his eyes.

He reached out and laid a hand on her hip, fanning his fingers over her skin, just below the edge of a dark leaf. “It looks great. And it … suits you.” He kept staring, eyes intense as he apparently studied each carefully shaded petal, each curling leaf.

All of a sudden, she caught herself imagining what it would be like to be in his tattoo chair, to see that same look on his face as he applied permanent ink – something that would always be a part of her. The idea gave her a thrill in a way getting the tattoo he was studying hadn’t. Abby was an amazing artist and Mallory wouldn’t take back her decision to go to her for the world, but the thought of being tattooed by Tyler definitely sparked a sort of excitement she’d never imagined the process could bring.

“Thanks,” she said, finally thinking to lift her hand out of the sugar. With her other one, she began to brush the granules away.

They drifted down, scattering across the counter and her lap.

Tyler’s gaze was finally diverted, and light flashed in his eyes as he eyed the little white dots that lay sprinkled across her thighs like snow flurries just touching the ground, about to melt away.

He rubbed a hand on the inside of one of her thighs, blazing a trail of heat all the way to the juncture between them. Lightly, he teased her clit, but only for the briefest of seconds.

That was all it took to have her sucking in a desperate breath, barely breathing as every nerve ending in her body sparked with sensation. She ached for him to repeat the motion – to touch her, harder and for longer – but instead he planted his hand firmly on the inside of her thigh and knelt.

She knew his knees had to be resting in spilled sugar and worried that they’d be cut by broken glass. He seemed careful though, moving slowly, and she couldn’t say a word as his breath streamed hot against her thighs, then between them, touching her where his fingertips had moments ago.

Little dots of sugar disappeared from her thighs, kissed away, and each time he drew closer to where she craved his touch the most. Tension simmered and built inside her, pulling her nerves tight. When he finally pressed his open mouth against her pussy, she arched back, breathing a long sigh.

She’d lost the ability to form words. The ability to move, too, except for involuntarily. Her hips rocked, even though she fought to hold still, not wanting to throw off what he was doing because it felt perfect already. Up and down, he ran his tongue over her clit, then below, teasing her, dipping into dampness.

Maybe sugar had fallen on her there, too. He tasted her like it had, like her skin was sweet, and the motions of his tongue against her hyper-sensitive skin were almost more than she could bear. Moments into it, she knew she’d come against his mouth, against the counter, long before they progressed beyond what seemed too intense – too satisfying – to call foreplay.

Oral or not, it was sex, and her entire body buzzed with the thrill of it, making her feel like she’d come to sudden life, pulled out of a static existence by the touch of Tyler’s hand and tongue, the rush of his breath against her slick skin. She’d felt a thrill the first time she’d seen him, in the hospital corridor, and now it felt like that had been a tiny prelude to this, a harbinger of what was to come.

Pleasure hit her like a wave, and if it had been that, it would’ve knocked her feet right out from under her. As it was, she gasped, going tense against the counter as he tightened his hold on her thigh in response, squeezing. She felt everything so intensely she could barely breathe, from the gentle lash of his tongue against her clit to the fine grit of stray sugar granules beneath her thighs, sweetness trapped between her body and the countertop. Every sensation drew her core a little tighter, echoing the bliss that pulsed through her, wrenching out ecstasy that was marked with ragged gasps from her and intense silence from him.

By the time her climax ebbed, her fingertips ached from being pressed so hard against the edge of the counter, a surface she held on to desperately. As the sense of urgency faded, she relinquished her death-grip, peeling her fingers away.

Tyler rose, standing slowly, eyes locked with hers.

She couldn’t look away, not even to stare at his naked body or the hardness that brushed the inside of her thigh as he leaned toward her.

He kissed her again and she tasted herself, not sugar, on his lips and tongue. The realization sent a thrill through her, one she hadn’t expected. She liked that he tasted like her, almost as much as she liked the feeling of his heated flesh sliding up her thigh, impossibly smooth and hard, enough to make her core clench again.

He was so close – another few inches, and he’d be inside her. She was close enough to the edge of the counter, and his hips fit snugly between her open thighs … there was only one thing stopping them, and when she realized what it was, her heart lurched.

“Do you have any protection?” she managed to ask when their lips parted. Her heart sped ahead as she waited for his answer, more anxious over his reply than she ever could’ve imagined being. Her orgasm was only minutes in the past, but she wanted to feel him deep inside her, wanted to feel that same satisfaction radiating from him as he came, too. She wanted it with an intensity no one else had ever brought out in her, and she searched his eyes, seeking an early answer.