Inked Page 8

  It became obvious that he did realize, when he whispered, “It’s a good thing our timing was off. It’s a good thing the life inside you isn’t mine. Mental illness, it can be genetic. Most days I feel like I’m fucking cursed. Either that, or just fucking crazy. Finn might not be the most intelligent human being in the world, but I’m sure genetically he’s a much better bet than me for your future child.”

  “You can’t really believe that,” I argued. “And I don’t mean about Finn.” Who was actually a lot smarter than he looked.

  “It’s not a matter of belief; it’s a matter of science. I’ve researched it. I know the numbers. There’s almost a fifty percent chance any child of mine would also have Panic Disorder just like me. It’s why I don’t want kids of my own. But being part of someone else’s kid’s life... I could get behind that.”

  I breathed out.

  That was a lot to take in. A lot to process.

  “You’re keeping it, right?” he wanted to know next.

  “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?” Tears burned in my eyes. No matter what Nick carried in his genes, or thought he carried in his genes, there was no question about me keeping this child. I’d never give up my baby. I’d never give up his. I didn’t really understand his panic attacks or what it was like for him during one. But they didn’t seem like as much of a curse as he described. Not enough to not want his baby.

  “Just a question,” he whispered.

  “Kind of a shitty question.”

  “Just a question,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m glad you’re keeping the baby. You’re going to be a great mother.”

  “I need sleep,” I huffed. Because my skin felt itchy all of a sudden. He barely knew me. He didn’t know if I’d make a good mother or a horrible mother. What was he building that statement on? My skills as a tattoo artist? My skills at fucking him that one time several weeks ago? Because, seriously, that was all he even knew about me. “We’re strangers. You barely know me.”

  Nick let go of his grip around my middle. I pulled away from him and shifted over to the opposite side of his king-sized bed. I’d had so many highs and lows this evening. And now I was annoyed with him. We were both still in our underwear. But he didn’t move to get out of bed and neither did I. I just lay there until I fell asleep. I’d process all this in the morning.

  I knew now that I should have been honest with him from the start. I should have told him the baby was his. Of all the men in this world who might have reacted poorly, I now believed this particular man wouldn’t have been one of them. But it was too late now. I couldn’t take back what I’d said about Finn.

  ~ CHAPTER 21 ~

  NICK

  A moment alone in my own head, and I had this sneaking suspicion the baby was mine. I lay in the dark, I could hear Amanda’s steady breaths, I knew she’d fallen asleep, and it was all I could think about.

  She’d fallen asleep pissed at me. She’d overreacted to a simple question.

  So much so that it had me wondering. Was the baby mine? I racked my brain trying to remember if we’d used a condom, and I concluded that we hadn’t. That night Finn took off with some other woman, in a Jeep, and I wondered if I could find that woman. Working for the North Carolina Aquatic Preservation Society meant I often worked closely with the local police. In the morning maybe I’d call a police friend of mine to figure out how many black Jeep Grand Cherokees were registered in this one town. Maybe he could help me find her. Maybe finding that woman could help clarify more about Finn.

  Or rather than going through all that, I could just ask Amanda. I knew that. But I didn’t want to ask her. I liked her, but what did it say about her if she’d just lied about this baby?

  She was this huge enigma—a sexy enigma—but still an enigma. I needed to figure her out before I accused her of something so big. I needed more time with her. She knew my secret now, about my panic attacks, and I kind of loved the way she’d reacted. She was affectionate rather than interrogative.

  So I would try to be the same for her.

  Eventually I got some sleep, but I woke up when I felt Amanda move closer to me. She poked my ribs. “I didn’t like your question,” she whispered into the pitch black. I couldn’t see her face, but I felt the strain in her voice. “Have I thought about the thing you asked? Yes, but I already decided I would never do that, no matter what. At work everyone knows, and you weren’t the first person to say those words—to ask if I planned on keeping it or not. Just because I don’t have a plan or because I’ve never done this before, it doesn’t mean that I can’t do it. Or that I can’t do it alone. It hurt me when you said that. I wish people would stop saying that. Or suggesting that.”

  She had my heart beating so hard. “Who else suggested it?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Finn?”

  “Maybe.”

  Fuck Finn. I rolled over closer to her. I would kick Finn’s ass for this, for anything he might have suggested to her. But suddenly I realized how my words to her might have been construed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I asked that because I wanted to make sure you were keeping the baby. Because I want you to. I want to do this with you. I’ll be your plan, remember? More and more, you’re becoming all I care about.”

  “Same,” she whispered.

  I don’t know what happened, but I couldn’t keep my hands off her after that. They went to her waist, and I yanked her over on top of me so that she was straddling my body. My breathing became wild. I needed this woman. Now.

  I sat up to kiss her mouth. She was warm and accepting. I tasted saltiness in that kiss, like tears, and a rush of protectiveness ran through me.

  She was scared.

  I was scared.

  But we were in this together. Whether the baby was mine or not.

  I kept kissing her. I couldn’t get enough. I wanted more. I needed more. She was right there with me because I felt her reach back to unhook her bra. She took it off and flung it aside. She grabbed my face, kissed against my ear, and she whispered, “Don’t make me wait the entire night before we get to the good stuff this time. Please, Nick. Pregnancy hormones are a real thing. I need you to fuck me.”

  Wow. I was going to marry this woman.

  Not even kidding.

  She had my body vibrating with need. I smiled; I couldn’t help it. I moved my hands to her breasts, squeezing them gently, moving my thumbs over her nipples, playing with her. Her nipples were hard little points, and I fucking loved it. I put my mouth to skin, dragging my tongue against her, tasting her.

  “Nick,” she moaned. “More.”

  But she was a drug, like morphine. I was dizzy, I was so lost in this girl. I moved my hands lower, needing to feel more of her. I touched her slick warmth. Then I pressed a finger deep inside her. Oh God, she was wet and warm and the noise she made when I touched her made me forget about everything else in the world. Nothing mattered but this woman. “More?” I whispered.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Nick, I need more.”

  During our first time together, the reason I focused on foreplay all night, was because I was trying to be good, trying to be a gentleman, trying to give off the same persona I always did. The ‘good guy’ persona. I don’t know why it was so deeply engrained into me. But even then, in the end, I hadn’t been able to keep up that facade with her.

  Not much was different this time.

  In fact, the shell slipped up twice as easily and twice as fast this time. I hardly gave a fuck. She moved to work off her underwear, and I moved to work off mine. Then, a spilt second later, I pushed inside her. I held her at her waist, guiding her on top of me.

  Nothing had ever felt this good. She was my muse, my weakness, my hope. Something animalistic took over. I got out of my own head. I stopped worrying about every little thing, and I just enjoyed her.

  ~ CHAPTER 22 ~

  AMANDA

  “Nick! Oh God, yes, Nick!” I moaned into his shoulder. I bit down against his flesh, trying to
stifle my screams, not wanting his roommate to hear me.

  Nick did most of the work. He moved me, his hands at my waist, up and down against his hard length. Good thing because I had become complete gelatin. He felt so good inside me, filling me, stretching me. This man knew how to fuck. But this wasn’t a surprise, I already knew this about him. I knew it the moment he first smiled at me. Something about the little smirk that was always there on his lips gave it away.

  And boy, did I ever feel it now. He was relentless, moving me hard against his body, grinding at just the right angle.

  I lost control.

  I was at his mercy.

  Along for the ride.

  I was his completely in the moment.

  Sharp electricity zapped through me as he brought me to yet another orgasm. I squeezed my arms around his neck harder. “Nick! Yes!” I cried out. He pumped harder. His fingers at my hips were going to leave bruises. I didn’t care. He felt way too good. The tingles moving all through me—way too good. His warm body moving with mine—way too good.

  We were both lost in each other. A second later, he came inside me. He slowed and I felt his release. He hadn’t used a condom. This time, I guess it didn’t matter.

  Out of breath, completely spent, I flopped onto the bed beside him. Silently, we both lay together, side by side. He tugged me closer, against his slightly sweaty chest, and dammit if my heart didn’t pound even harder. I liked him. A lot. And little by little, I felt like I was surrendering more of myself to this guy I barely knew.

  That was almost as terrifying as carrying his baby. I knew I would need to do something to protect myself from the inevitable heartbreak a guy like this could cause. But not right this minute. Right this minute I didn’t care much.

  I simply sighed against his chest. Then I let myself fall asleep breathing in his fresh scent.

  * * *

  The moment sunshine hit my eyelids, I awoke, and I slipped out of bed. Not making a sound, I stared down at a sleeping Nick. The guy was all man. Buck-ass naked. Sprawled out on top of the covers like he didn’t give a fuck. Men in real life—they didn’t look like this guy. They didn’t smell like him. They didn’t taste like him. They just weren’t real. And when one of them did come along, they were always, always too good to be true.

  So this guy... was this guy for real?

  I found my underwear and bra on the floor. I worked quietly to slip them on.

  This guy, I decided, couldn’t be the exception to the rule. Not a chance the exception to the rule would pick me out of the crowd. He was saying all the right things. Or at least most of the right things. And I was having an impossible time believing him right this second in the light of day.

  Case in point, Emma Winchester. His ex-girlfriend. I could picture him and sweet, angelic Emma Winchester together. They were like a Hallmark card. What about me? If Emma was a Hallmark card, I was a spiral notebook paper with poorly drawn doodles.

  “You’re awake,” he muttered, startling me from my thoughts. His eyes were closed but somehow, he’d caught me. “Get back in bed.”

  “No. I need to go.” He’d driven me to his house last night. I was stuck. “I’m going to go find my clothes in the bathroom. Will you drive me home after?”

  He made a noise deep in his throat, sleepy and sexy. “Lou’s probably been in there already. She’s probably washed and folded them and placed them somewhere around the house—like the way a cat would leave a dead mouse on a doorstep. I try not to leave anything anywhere. Let me get up. Let me go find your clothes.”

  I waited for him to get up.

  He didn’t move. For a second, I thought he’d fallen back to sleep. “Nick,” I whispered. “Please, I need to go.”

  His eyes finally cracked opened. He squinted in the sun. His eyes were such a sharp, beautiful aqua blue color in the morning sun that they stung me—literally stung.

  “Hi,” he muttered, giving me that charming smirk of his . “Hi. Good morning.”

  “Hi.”

  God. I couldn’t help it. I felt giddy. I felt excited to see him stare up at me. He sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbed at his eyes, and then ultimately left the bed. This man was so amazingly sexy padding around his room, barefoot, naked, and not at all worried that I was watching. He bumped into me as he moved past, on purpose, shooting me his smile that was going to be my undoing. He grabbed some fresh clothes from his dresser. He yanked on a shirt, underwear, sweats—even stumbling to get into a pair of socks. He kept digging around for more clothes.

  He handed me some items. A sweatshirt for me to wear and some kind of running pants. “Here. Wear mine. I’ll get your clothes back to you another day.”

  I paused for a moment but decided to put on the clothes he offered. Once I was dressed, I really melted. He was so low key, so kind, so go-with-the-flow. Another day? Did that mean he wanted a repeat of last night? Multiple repeats? Were the events from last night going to become a thing?

  Maybe I wanted lots of repeats.

  Maybe I didn’t.

  I couldn’t decide.

  We left his house. I never saw Lou—or my clothes—on the way out. I rode with him in his car. “You hungry?” he asked when we passed a couple of fast food places on the way. “Want me to stop somewhere?” He scratched at the stubble on his face. He looked good with that stubble.

  I was starving. But I couldn’t keep asking for him to do more for me. “I’m okay.”

  “You want to come over to my place again tonight? I could pick you up again. Or you could just drive over after work.” He reached the Kill Devil Ink parking lot. He pulled into a spot beside a car that wasn’t mine; it was Finn’s actually, but I didn’t think Nick knew that. Good.

  “Maybe. I’ll think about it,” I muttered, unbuckling. I opened my door before I let the situation become awkward, before he leaned in for a kiss, or before I gave in and told him how crazy about him I really was.

  I needed space.

  I needed to think.

  ~ CHAPTER 23 ~

  NICK

  It was early, six in the morning early. I dropped Amanda off in front of Kill Devil Ink. Surely, at this hour, she didn’t need to be at work. There were only two cars in the lot, the same two cars as the night we’d first been together. I thought she’d leave my car and get into one of the parked cars.

  She went into the building instead.

  Finn—fucking Finn—opened the front door for her. Fuck him. I saw him through the glass. He saw me too. I resisted the urge to flip him off; instead I waved and drove away.

  Seeing her go to him, go inside with him, it hit me like a punch in the stomach. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it, but for as convinced as I’d had myself all night that the baby was mine, now I wasn’t convinced at all.

  Jesus, did I want to do this even if the baby wasn’t mine? I could support Amanda as her friend. I’d always be her friend. But should I leave it at that and step aside?

  Damn. I gripped the steering wheel tighter. I did not want to be her friend. I reached my driveway and I lingered in the car for a minute. The image of her pale pink hair, all wild and crazy in the morning, the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes, was clouding all my thoughts. My breathing started to speed.

  Fuck—not again.

  I did not need to deal with another panic attack. They were happening way too frequently lately. I jumped out of the car and I took off running. I ran at full speed. I ran and I ran. My body didn’t have time to panic and shut down, it had time only for running.

  Eventually I looped around the neighborhood and came back to the house. As I slowed, I felt better. Somehow, I’d curbed what might have been another attack. Lou scared me half to death, though. I found her sitting on the front lawn, waiting on me.

  “Oh my gosh,” she cried out, jumping to her feet. “Your girlfriend is pregnant, and the father is Finn, the hot tattoo artist!” She had a smile on her face as she yelled this at me. Like it was good news.
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  Dripping sweat, out of breath from my run, I walked over to her. I started stretching out my hamstrings. “You were listening.”

  “Of course I was listening. I mean, I listened to your dinner conversation. That’s all I heard. I didn’t hear anything else.”

  “You’re outside the house.”

  “I know.” She bounced her feet on the dewy, sandy grass that was our front yard. She stood there when I’d never seen her venture this far outside any building on her own. “The grass is soft and not so scary.”

  It was prickly and mostly weeds. More and more lately I questioned if Lou had real agoraphobia. Perhaps, all these years, she’d only convinced herself she had it. Honestly, she’d seen me have about a million panic attacks, and I’d never once seen her have one of her own. She talked about having them. And maybe she used to have them occasionally. But I wondered when was the last time that she actually had one of her own.

  Not that that was a bad thing.

  That was a very good thing.

  I just wondered if it wasn’t time to start pushing her out into the world more. Maybe she’d find out she wasn’t half as broken as she always believed.

  “The baby is definitely yours, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she added, still smiling.

  “She told me it was Finn’s,” I countered. Maybe I should be grounding myself in reality, not hoping for some alternative I’d created in my mind last night.

  “It’s not Finn’s.”

  “How do you know that?” I shouted at her. I ran my hands through my damp hair, frustrated as hell.

  “The day we got your hat. She stared at you like she’d seen a ghost. Or maybe like she’d seen her baby’s father walking back in through the front door when she’d thought she’d never see him again. She kept your hat as a souvenir. She knew the baby was yours then. She knew it when she came over last night. She knows it. You’re the dad. Case closed.”