Beneath This Ink (Beneath #2)(36)

“Why?”

“I’m not taking the chance that you’re doing this only because of the liquid courage.”

“But—”

I gripped her around the waist and gave her a little tug forward. “No.”

She rested her hands on the couch on either side of my head. “I don’t get you.”

“I’ve waited a hell of a long time for this, and I guess I can wait a little longer.” She pushed against the cushions and shifted her legs, preparing to climb off my lap. I tightened my grip. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I thought you just said we weren’t doing this?”

“Did you miss the first half of what I said? We’re totally f*cking making out like teenagers. And I might even try to round third base.” Her cheeks flushed a deeper red. “Don’t worry that you’re going to get bored, princess.”

“Oh.”

“So give me that mouth again.” I waited, wondering if she’d take the initiative, or if I’d have to help her along.

She leaned in, her lips an inch from mine. “You’re kind of bossy. You know that, right?”

“You like it.”

“You sure about that?”

“As sure as you’re straddling my lap right now.”

“Cocky bastard.” She didn’t speak the words so much as breathe them, the final syllables lost as our lips collided. My cock, already hard, pulsed against the zipper of my jeans.

Sorry, bud. Not tonight.





I was too old and too heavy to be straddling a man’s lap. But whiskey was an amazing thing. It wiped away inhibitions and made otherwise questionable actions seem perfectly reasonable. Advisable, even.

Now I understood why Con insisted on no sex until we were sober. Because he didn’t trust that I would actually follow through if I wasn’t. I was going to prove him wrong.

Even as we devoured each other and heat gathered between my legs, I was firmly aware of what I was doing. I hadn’t had that much to drink. I was also firmly aware that part of Con’s appeal was an edge of danger. It was so cliché, but something inside me had lit and burned brightly when he’d said he wouldn’t rest until he’d gotten justice for his parents. That kind of devotion—that kind of gut-wrenching emotion—wasn’t something I’d witnessed very often in my life. I wondered what it would be like to be the focus of that kind of ferocity.

Con’s hands drifted from my waist to my ass, and I couldn’t help but grind down on his erection. Jeez. I’m such a hussy. I hadn’t done something like this since… well, never. My skirt was hiked up my thighs, and my thong barely qualified as an undergarment. I was surely going to leave a wet spot on his pants, which would be incredibly embarrassing, but I wasn’t going to worry about that just now. His hand slipped down to the back of my thigh and then up under my skirt. I froze, waiting for him to comment about the thong, and then realized for everyone else in the world, this wasn’t a novelty. Just for sexually repressed thirty year olds who still live with their fathers and wear full butt-covering underwear.

His callused hand skimmed my ass cheek, and he pulled away from my mouth and groaned. “Fucking A, Van. I put you on my bike in a skirt with you wearing practically nothing beneath it. You could have flashed the entire town.”

“To be fair, I didn’t know I was going to be on your bike, so that’s not really my fault.”

Con’s fingers curled, gripping my ass tighter, and pulling me closer. “I want to feel you on my dick. Jesus, why in the hell did I say I didn’t want to do this tonight? A little whiskey, and I decide to take the moral f*cking high ground.”

I leaned back and looked Con in the eye. “You’re not changing your mind now. Not because I don’t want to, but because you’re right. It matters. And when we do have sex again, I don’t want you to wonder if it’s whiskey giving me the courage. I want you to know I’m with you because it’s what I want. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Even as I spoke the words, I knew they weren’t completely true. Because Con would probably always wonder—would have to wonder—if I was only sleeping with him for the deed. Because if not for that deed, who knew if I would’ve ever set foot back into his world and given him the shot he’d asked for?

His lips landed on my collarbone… then his teeth. Shards of pleasure shot through me, and I moaned his name. His hand, still clutching my ass, squeezed and released, and I rocked against his erection. The rough denim of his jeans rubbed against the flimsy lace of my panties, ratcheting up my arousal. If we kept this up, I was going to come. My head dropped back, and I whispered, “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Con didn’t listen. He twisted sideways and lowered me at an angle. Pressing my body into the sofa, he covered me completely. My skirt was shoved up to my waist, and my legs were spread, accommodating his narrow hips. If I thought I could feel his hard-on before, that was nothing compared to the thick, solid heat that branded me now.

He was relentless.

Lips skimmed along my jaw, to my ear, to my throat. Teeth scraped against the tendons of my neck, sending shivers through my entire body. My hips bucked, and I relished the friction his body offered.

I cursed us both for putting sex off limits tonight. I hadn’t been beneath a man like this since… I didn’t even want to admit how long it’d been.