Irrevocably Mine (Imagine Ink Book 3) (21 page)

Her eyes drifted from his warm brown hair that felt like silk in her hands, to his full, but slightly hidden, lips that wrung so much pleasure from her body. Then, they dropped to the beard they both loved to stroke and tug and his big barrel chest that looked like it could carry the weight tasked to Atlas. It was hard and soft at the same time. Then, there were the tattooed and ripped cuddle straps that did the job oh so well. Stacy giggled to herself at the term, she’d never heard it until he showed up at a Reid picnic wearing a tank-top, proclaiming his massive arms as such.

Those thighs though. She let her gaze drop to the sexiest quads she’d ever seen. Of course, they were encased in denim at present, but she could still see the bulges and valleys. And finally, her eyes fell to his feet, which were the size of Volkswagens, but still sexy as fuck when they were bare. Her imagination and memory were required now, as he had on work boots.

She took mental snapshots of it all before returning to his face and his eyes which were the darkest color she’d even seen without them being a true brown or black. There was an underlying color there. Sometimes, it looked hazel or green; sometimes, the darkest amber. Last time she stared into them, contemplating their color, she thought she’d have time to study his eyes and to identify all the facets, but she was wrong.

This may not be the last time she ever looked into them, but it would damn sure be the last time she looked into them filled with such love and devotion for her. The casual, “Hey,” she offered damn near lodged in her throat and choked the life from her. Turning her head just enough to peek back into the living room, she confirmed Hank had the gun trained to shoot right through the door and into Dax. That was all the motivation she needed to stay the course. Destroy to save. In her heart she was, and would always be, his.

S
tacy finally answered
her door after his second knock. His confidence in mission success had wavered often, waffling between all-out victory and utter defeat. Those extremes only increased on the drive over to her place and as he waiting nervously for her to open up her home and her heart. All-out victory gained a boost when she opened the door and partially hid in the opening like she was shy. As she ate up his body with her gaze like a starving woman, victory surged even more. He felt her visual perusal like a lover’s touch. As she studied him, his gaze never left her face.

He savored every dilation of her eyes, each hitch in her breathing, and nibble of her plump lips. Dax wanted to take her right up against her front door and give the old lady across the way a show. He wanted to fuck a commitment out of her lips—a bigger commitment than she realized. That was the only thought that held him back from using his body, and hers, to his advantage. He needed it to be a true answer. One born of love, not lust. As he gained some control over his raging body, he noticed the fuck-me-hard-against-the-wall-in-a-dark-corner-of-a-club boots.

Superman’s steel cock. Did I just groan out loud?
It’s those boots on her. They would make any red-blooded man come in his pants. Her skirt was so short he wasn’t sure it could be called such. The shirt that completed her cock-draining outfit was low cut, spaghetti strapped and too short to cover her belly. “Hey.”

One simple syllable. A one-word greeting. Not unheard of for her, but the tone was not her at all. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t exactly put his finger on what threaded through it, but it wasn’t good for him. That much he most certainly knew. Before responding, he noticed her tousled hair. It may still be shorter than most ladies wore theirs, but it was growing. And it was unruly, like she just woke up or crawled off his cock. Either way, it was sexy as hell, but the bags under her eyes were not. Something was weighing on her and he feared it was him, or rather, her finding a way to let him down. Utter defeat now snatched the lead from all-out victory, pulling his hopes down a few notches.

He could practically hear the whole “
it’s not you, it’s me”
speech. Dax hoped she had more originality than that, at least. That would not give him the definitive closure he needed. Before he could retreat too far into his head and start torturing himself with what ifs, she spoke again. Each word felt like a bullet to his heart.

“What do you want, Dax? I’m…busy.” The way she said that word,
busy.
The pointed glance toward the room behind her.
No, it can’t be that. Anything but that.
Dax could deal with a lot of things, but not that.
Never.

“I got your message, Stacy, and thought I’d come by so we could talk. I sure as hell have got a lot to tell…” Even with everything adding up to disaster, Dax was willing to put his heart out there. He had to, had to try. Plus, he was kind of on autopilot and rambling man, all in one. Having practiced his speech, he began, but rambling man kicked in and was just going to babble. Stacy’s interruption saved him from making a fool of himself, but couldn’t save his heart.

“Look, Daxton.” She glanced behind the door again and another feeling of unease and just plain wrongness washed over him. Leaning her head further out the door, she lowered her voice, “I’m flattered, really I am, but you know me, I’m not the settling-down type. And since you can’t do casual, I think it’s best if we call it now, before one of us gets hurt.”

What the hell?
It was
his
world crashing down in a jagged pile of rubble, why did
she
look so distraught? Did she not want her new fuck boy to hear her? To know they’d slept together, meant something to each other? Or was she really just that much of the bitch everyone said she was and needed to see her destruction up close and personal?

Dax could never think of her like that, but the woman before him was not the same woman who’d made him
dinfast
, or
was that a lie too?
Confusion and agony tainted his view and he knew the longer he stayed here, the better the chance of saying something he couldn’t take back.

Dax needed space—space and time to think. His brain was a mash of pain and confusion. Retreat was the only word that made sense. He needed to retreat and regroup. They could discuss this when she was more herself. He’d almost forgotten about her backward glances and subtle, and not so subtle, clues, until he was face to face with a cocky bastard who just appeared in the doorway, putting his hands on Stacy.

Unprepared was an understatement.

Dax went through their potential dialogue and every possible scenario in his head a million times.
What if
this, w
hat if
that. He had a plan for pretty much any contingency—anything she could do or say. Dax would fight if she tried to deny their love, he would use facts and logic and anything else he needed to, in order to elicit a genuine response from her. Even if it wasn’t the one he wanted. Dax needed that finality, that black or white of his place in her life, and hers, in Macy’s and his. Even though the possibility of her not loving him would shred his heart, it would still be better than the gray. Dax hated gray. He needed the truth, and here it was, staring him in the face, kissing his Stacy’s cheek with his arm around her, caressing and doing, God knows what, with that unseen hand.
No, she’s not mine. Not anymore. Obviously not ever.

After kissing the cheek of the woman he loved, the asshole spoke, “Can we help you, buddy?” This man was acting so familiar with her. The kiss, the hand probably rubbing her ass, the look of victory and possession—all that was gut-wrenching enough, without the addition of Stacy’s manicured nails peeking out from around his waist. She leaned into him,
fucking leaned into him,
for comfort and support.
The way she did with Dax. She doesn’t fit in the crook of his arms as naturally as she does mine. Stacy is the perfect size to tuck into me like we were custom made.
This guy was at a height that pushed her neck forward with his arm there. It was probably his jealousy that made the observation, but he couldn’t help being petty right now.

Dax cleared his throat and spoke, “No man, you’ve helped me more than you know already. I’m Dax, and you are?” Dax didn’t know why he tortured himself like this, but there was something in him that wouldn’t allow him to simply turn on his heel and walk out of her life. He wanted to, boy did he ever. Self-preservation demanded it, but he stood there making introductions with the devil himself instead. Damned if Dax didn’t extend his hand too. Maybe it was a subconscious effort to get the jerk to remove
his
hand from her ass or wherever the hell it was out of sight.

Instead of offering his hand in return, the asshole raised his chin and started to answer, “I’m Ha…”

Stacy slapped his chest instantly while her face said playful, “This is Harrison.” Stacy emphasized his name like it meant something, but it meant nothing to Dax. “We met at a case party.”

Apparently, it was a private thing between them. At first, Harrison’s eyes flashed anger when Stacy interrupted him, but when she looked at him after putting a strong inflection on the last two syllable, his eyes softened for her. It made Dax wretch inside. To see her ply another man, it was all too much for him.

“Right, I’m Harrison, and my dinner’s getting cold. My little lady here made me a fine home-cooked meal, and I’d like to get back to it, if you don’t mind, so if you don’t need anything else?”

Even with the weird vibe coming from them, his heart breaking trumped it all. He would never forget the nasally sounding asshole with a Midwest accent complaining about his dinner…
She cooked for him?
There was something so intimate about that, especially where Stacy was concerned. Did she make him breakfast for dinner, too? “Well, Harrison, Stacy, I’ll let y’all get back to your, pancakes, is it?”

Yep, petty
. And even though he had obviously overestimated his value to her, he still needed to know.

“No man, I wanted pancakes, but I got meatloaf instead. She makes a pretty mean one, too. I would invite you to stay, but well, you know how it is.” The asshole did that cheesy eyebrow thing and the implication was clear.

Dax still took his little victory and relished it. It was all he had at this point. Not true. It was all he had of Stacy, anyway.
I hope you choke on it, dickbag
, Dax thought, but he said, “Enjoy your dinner, folks.” He looked Stacy square in the eye. “I’ve gotta run, I’m through here anyway.” He turned to leave, but not before he caught the flash of pain in her eyes. That was no longer his concern, it was Harrison’s.

I
t was
inconceivable that her heart still beat and her lungs still drew breath. Those systems felt like they suffered catastrophic failure with every word she spoke. If it hadn’t been for the gun butted up against the door right next to her neck, she wouldn’t have uttered a single syllable. Her logical mind knew that she could create enough of a situation that the first bullet would miss both her and Dax. However, she couldn’t come up with a plan on the fly for the other fourteen she knew were in the clip.

Every time her voice wavered, she felt the cold butt dig into her shoulder, locking in her course of action. And when Hank, cocky asshole that he is, almost said his name, she thought someone was definitely going to end up sporting hot lead. But, her training kicked in—training her office insisted on in case of hostage situations. Dax wouldn’t know that, thank God, but the training was ingrained.

The look in Dax’s once-warm eyes tore chunks from her heart. They were a storm of emotions when he showed up, but they went cold when Hank put in his appearance and only froze harder with every word out of the asshole’s mouth. Hank knew what he was doing. He must’ve sensed the closeness and intimacy between her and Dax. As much as she tried to mask it, that kind of relationship is hard to hide.

If only I had realized that sooner, this whole situation would be different.
Dax would’ve stayed here with me instead of me pushing him away. Hank would’ve never made it into my house because I would’ve never left to look for Dax. John wouldn’t have my phone and I wouldn’t have broken the one person who I love utterly and completely.

Stacy wanted to fucking scream. She could give a shit what happened to her from this point on. Hank could rape her, kill her, sell her to the slave trade for all she cared. She just wanted to erase that look from Dax’s face and remove that stain from both their souls. Stacy was losing her shit, and that wasn’t good. Not good at all for dealing with Hank, the man who just closed the door and jammed the gun to her forehead once again. The man who looked like he had nothing left to lose.

“Did you fuck him?” Stacy was too damned gob-smacked to answer, but Hank wanted to know and he wanted to know now. Stacy was through denying, through playing his game, and just fucking through with him. Once the sound of Dax’s car was nothing but a memory and he couldn’t hear a gunshot, Stacy answered. Being shot in the damned head would be a blessing, a respite from the destruction she’d wrought. “DID YOU FUCK HIM?”

This time, Hank’s spit landed on her face with every word. His temper was causing him to tremble and the gun to slide loosely across her forehead. Un-fucking-acceptable. No way would she allow him to miss and her to live with the pain of losing Dax. Let her live in a state where she could never explain, never apologize and tell him she
did
love him, with everything she has and then some. Never get the chance to give him children and if he finds his daughter, be a stepmom to her. That world was not one she wished to live in.

Pushing herself harder into the gun in an attempt to force Hank to act, she calmly answered, “No, I didn’t fuck him, I made love to him. Over and over and over. I gave him my body, my heart, and my blackened damned soul. And I don’t regret one minute in his arms. He was the absolute best lover I ever had or ever will have. I will go to my grave with his name on my lips and inked on my heart. The sooner you pull that fucking trigger, you coward, the sooner I can leave this world knowing that he is safe and I am free. Free from you. Free from your sick, sadistic games. And free of this shit storm that has become my life.” With that, she closed her eyes, spread her arms, and waited for the end. “Dax, I love you.”