Inked on Paper

by Nicole Edwards

  Why would you think it was okay to leave a strange woman in the apartment?

  Another bite, another few seconds.

  She wasn’t strange last night. Well, unless you count that one thing she did with her…

  Thank God he didn’t elaborate.

  Save it. I don’t even want to know. What’s her name?

  I heard the sound of the shower turn on.

  No idea.

  You’re a man whore, Gil Garner.

  So you’ve said.

  I snorted. There was no help for him. None.

  I’d teased him in the past that I was going to make parting gifts for these chicks. A coffee mug and a T-shirt that said: I banged Gil Garner and he didn’t remember my name. Maybe I’d throw in some hand sanitizer, a package of condoms, and … oh, and a business card with his phone number on it.

  It was safe to say he hadn’t been amused with the idea.

  Oh, well.

  Tossing my cell phone onto the cushion, I curled my legs beneath me and finished my cereal, waiting for Gil’s Saturday night conquest to go home. I damn sure couldn’t leave her in the condo alone. What the hell Gil was thinking, I seriously had no idea.

  Not that I should’ve been surprised. It wasn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last. The guy could crook a finger, and women’s panties melted right off, but he never bothered to get their names—or remember them if he had—and as far as I knew, he didn’t do repeat encounters, either.

  Finally, twenty minutes later, as I flipped through channels on television, Gil’s overnight guest emerged from the bathroom, a cloud of steam following her. This time she was wearing a towel.

  I watched her as she made the walk of shame back to Gil’s bedroom.

  Luckily, a few minutes later, she returned, this time dressed in what was clearly last night’s outfit—a skin-tight, black spandex number that covered the bare essentials.

  She was going to freeze her fucking ass off. Not that I cared.

  “Would it be possible to get Gil’s phone number from you?”

  See, the parting gift would’ve been perfect for her.

  I contemplated that for a moment. It would serve him right if I gave this chick his number. He deserved that and more for being a man whore. But I wasn’t that much of a bitch. As much as I detested the revolving door he had with women, I knew he was up front with them, letting them know it was one night and that was it. This chick knew the score; I could tell by the hangdog look on her face.

  “Sorry, honey.” I didn’t elaborate, didn’t feel the need to.

  I wasn’t surprised when the girl snarled at me, then huffed and headed for the door, her heels dangling from her fingertips. I didn’t even flinch when she slammed the front door behind her.

  Grabbing my phone, I shot Gil another text: I hate you.

  The response that I got right before I locked the front door and made my way to my bathroom: Love you, too.

  Asshole.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jake

  For the first time in nearly a year, I was still geared up to write, not wanting the feeling to go away. I couldn’t stop thinking about Kora and Donovan, what they were getting ready to do, who they would piss off, how they would handle the aftermath.

  I only knew that sitting down and getting some words on paper was crucial. For the moment, I was inspired, and if things went sideways, I wanted to have an idea of where this was going.

  I grabbed my pen and my notebook and thought about Kora.

  Kora wasn’t sure what had gotten into her when she’d made Donovan that offer, but it’d seemed like the thing to do at the time. And when Donovan had made his counteroffer, Kora knew she couldn’t resist. Hell, she didn’t even want to. What better way to put Sam in his place than to sneak off with the man he considered to be untouchable?

  Not to mention, this guy revved her engine unlike any man she’d ever met. Admittedly, it had been a while. Eight months? Not since Sam. Since before she’d found out the fucker was screwing her sister.

  But the alcohol was helping. Liquid courage and all that. Normally, she wouldn’t be quite this forward. Hell, if Donovan actually knew that she’d only been with one man in her entire life, which was unfortunately Sam—and wasn’t that fucking sad—he’d probably hightail it out of the baby shower without looking back.

  He wasn’t going to find out, though. Not from her anyway. And since all these people had already labeled her a cheating, conniving whore—that’s just what she’d heard from her own family—Kora didn’t really give a fuck.

  I definitely liked Kora. I liked her take-charge attitude. And sure, she was doing some of this to get back at Sam, but I knew in the end, she would fall for Donovan. It was inevitable. Every woman deserved a man who would put her first. Always.

  Setting her glass on an empty table, she made her way out of the banquet room, down the narrow hall that led to the restrooms. Once inside, she took a moment to scrutinize herself in the mirror.

  What did women see when they looked in the mirror? Most of the women I knew liked to complain about every little detail, even if they looked perfect. But women were like that, right? Always zeroing in on the imperfections, even if they were so minimal only they saw them?

  I put the pen to the paper once again.

  Yep, she looked a little intoxicated. Her gray eyes were wide and glassy, her blonde hair a little on the stringy side, although she’d spent half an hour straightening it that morning. Her skin was a little pale, her bottom lip a little puffy, probably because she’d been biting it. She did that when she was nervous.

  The door opened, and Kora sucked in a breath, expecting to come face-to-face with the sexy man who was supposed to rock her world. Unfortunately, Donovan wasn’t the one to step inside. No, this was … Trina.

  Hmm. I definitely needed these two to have a confrontation. But I kept in mind that Kora’s sister was pregnant and that Kora was trying to be the bigger person here. She no longer wanted Sam; that was a given. But the fact that her sister had slept with him would still weigh heavily on her mind, right?

  Trying not to look angry, Kora met her sister’s blue gaze.

  “Oh, hey,” Trina said, acting as though she was surprised to see her.

  “Hey,” Kora replied mumbled beneath her breath, turning her attention back to the mirror.

  “I’m glad you could make it,” Trina told her.

  “Mom told me I had to be here,” she said honestly. If she hadn’t, Kora knew for a fact that she wouldn’t have come. Trina glared at her and Kora turned to face her head on. “What?”

  “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to be happy for me and Sam.”

  “Happy?” Kora snorted. “You’re pregnant with my boyfriend’s baby.”

  “Ex. He’s not yours anymore, Kora.” Trina’s voice grew shrill. “He’s mine.”

  Damn. Even though I was writing this story, I wasn’t sure how the fuck Kora was supposed to be civil to this bitch. Seriously.

  “Oh, how could I forget?” Kora was desperately trying to keep her voice down, but it wasn’t easy. This was the same conversation they’d had for months, ever since Trina and Sam had confronted her, letting her know that they would be spending the rest of their lives together.

  Trina hadn’t looked at all ashamed of what she’d done. Not then and certainly not now.

  “I’m happy for you,” Kora lied. “He’s all yours, and he’s exactly what you deserve.”

  Trina’s mouth dropped open and Kora could see the wheels spinning. She was trying to come up with something to say, some way to put Kora in her place, but fortunately, the door opened again.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t Donovan this time, either. No, it was a woman. Smiling sweetly, Kora watched as the lady disappeared into one of the stalls. She turned back to the mirror and ignored her sister. A minute passed while the woman took care of business, then returned to wash her hands, all while Kora pretended to fuss with her hair.

&nbs
p; Only when the woman left did Kora release the breath she’d been holding.

  “I really wish you could just let it go, Kora,” Trina said when they were alone. “Sam and I are happy, and in a few weeks, we’re bringing a child into this world. Together.”

  I knew it was time for Donovan to come in and save the day. Only he couldn’t come into the bathroom because … well, because Trina was there. Luckily the guy was good at thinking on the fly.

  Kora was searching for words when the door opened again. This time, her visitor was the ridiculously handsome man who’d made her panties wet with a few simple words, and his appearance caused her tummy to do a weird flip.

  Trina spun around, her eyes widening when she looked at Donovan, but Donovan didn’t say a word. He offered a smile, one that didn’t look apologetic in any way.

  Donovan Brashwood, looking sinfully delicious in the expensive dark suit that did little to hide his perfectly sculpted upper body, stood there, holding the door open with his broad shoulder, and Kora’s heart skipped a beat. She half expected him to come inside, send Trina on her way, then push her up against the wall and claim her in a way she’d never been claimed before. Except that didn’t happen.

  “If you’ll excuse us,” Donovan said to Trina as he reached for Kora’s hand while he still held the door open. Kora didn’t look at Trina when Donovan pulled her out into the hall, immediately opening another door. Her mind was spinning as she followed him inside the small, dark room, only briefly wondering what had happened to their bathroom plans.

  But then, when Donovan put his mouth on hers, she forgot all about the bathroom.

  And everything else, for that matter.

  Now on to the fun stuff. I knew right where this was going, but it was Donovan’s turn to take the lead. And lead he would definitely be doing.

  I paused for a moment and shook out my hands. But I didn’t stop, not even for more coffee.

  When Donovan had followed Kora out of the room, he’d waited a moment at the end of the hallway to see if anyone had noticed. Not that he really gave a shit what those people at the shower thought, but he’d wanted to ensure someone wouldn’t follow them. After all, what he’d said to Kora had been true. He got the feeling that once he was inside her, he wouldn’t be able to stop until they were both delirious.

  Then, as he’d suspected would happen, Trina had followed Kora, and a few minutes later, another woman had come down the hall. That was when he’d realized the place was too busy for the bathroom to be clear for long. So, he’d done a little recon, finding an unlocked door to a storage closet directly across from the women’s restroom.

  I remembered the time I’d taken some chick into a storage closet. It had been rather eventful.

  Once the coast had been clear, he’d retrieved her, and here they were.

  Except Donovan hadn’t expected this.

  His mouth on hers … yeah, that had been the plan, but he hadn’t expected her to be quite so pliant against him. So willing. Eager. Her lips were soft, warm. He tasted the sweetness of 7Up as his tongue collided with hers. And the sexy moans that escaped her… Fuck. This was going to be harder than he’d thought it would be.

  My thoughts drifted to Presley. What would I do if I had the opportunity to take her into a storage closet? To kiss her lips for the first time? Then it came to me. I’d want to see her face when I took her. So the darkness had to go.

  Wanting to see her, Donovan reached up, searching the air above his head for the string he’d seen dangling from the single light bulb. When he found it, he yanked, and the light flickered on, bathing them in a dingy yellow glow. It was enough. Enough that he could see her as he touched her.

  Cupping her face, Donovan slid his fingers into her hair, firmly holding her in place as he molded his body to hers, pushing her against the wall, her breasts crushed against his chest.

  Damn.

  This was definitely unexpected.

  Kora’s hand flattened over his, pulling it from where he’d been cupping her face. She drew his arm down and forced his hand between them.

  “Touch me,” she moaned softly. “Please, touch me.”

  Definitely the words a man longed to hear. At least I did, anyway.

  Sliding his hand up her thigh, Donovan willed his heart to slow. He was a fucking patient man, always had been; he had trained groomed for moments like this, needing the stone-cold façade in order to keep his opponents on edge. Well, not exactly like this. But he knew how to maintain his cool, how to slow his heart rate so that he could think clearly.

  Except at that moment, all the coaching and schooling he’d endured was fucking useless because he was overwhelmed by this woman. Her scent, her taste, the smoothness of her skin against his palm.

  “Kora,” he mumbled, pulling his mouth from hers and kissing her jaw, her neck. “You sure about this?”

  “So sure,” she said, her fingers sliding into his hair, pulling him to her. “Need this.”

  He did, too. So fucking much it hurt.

  Here was a woman he’d met less than an hour ago, and he felt as though he’d known her forever, felt as though every touch was at least a year, yet it would never be enough. What it was about her, he didn’t know, wasn’t even sure he wanted to know, but he was sucked into her orbit, captivated beyond measure.

  That was exactly how I’d felt when I met Presley for the first time. As though everything, including me, was revolving around her, centered on her. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, about all the things I wanted to do to her.

  I took a deep breath and got back to writing.

  Sliding his finger beneath the elastic band of her panties, Donovan lifted his head to watch her.

  “You’re wet for me,” he whispered against her cheek. “So wet.” He dipped his finger inside her, the warm clasp of her body cunt gripping him.

  “Don’t tease,” she muttered. “Want to feel you.”

  “Condom,” he told her. “In my wallet. Inside pocket of my jacket.”

  He continued to tease her slowly, flattening his palm against her clit while he curled one finger, then two, inside her while she reached for his wallet.

  “Open it,” he instructed when she held out the small foil packet.

  Donovan continued to watch her as she tore open the foil with her teeth, her breaths raspy, interspersed with sharp inhales and sexy moans. He didn’t let up, continuing to finger her while he waited patiently.

  “Put it on me.” He didn’t want to stop touching her, but he knew he would have to or this could take forever, and at this point, his cock was rock hard, throbbing incessantly, desperate and aching.

  He’d had hookups before, but never this sudden. And possibly not this fantastic.

  Shit, I’d had hookups before, but never had they been this good. Maybe it was because I hadn’t found the right woman yet.

  It took her a minute to free him from his slacks, then roll the condom down his length. He hissed in a breath when she stroked him firmly, making his eyes cross.

  Although he suspected this was supposed to be a one-time encounter, Donovan wasn’t sure once would be enough.

  In fact, he knew it wouldn’t.

  Fuck.

  I knew where this was headed, but for some reason, I had to stop. As much as I wanted to write the sex scene, I couldn’t. Usually, it would’ve been so easy, but right now … my thoughts drifted to Presley once more and…

  It was all gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jake

  Nine days later

  Tuesday morning

  Going to New York in February… Fucking shit.

  How was it possible that I’d been back in Texas for only a year, yet this fucking weather seemed downright lethal? Let’s just say, it wasn’t the romanticized version you saw in movies or read in books. It was fucking cold. In fact, it seemed like a place Eskimos would get sent to for punishment of a crime committed.

  Sure, there were things I missed about it, but defi
nitely not the glacial temperatures.

  I made a note to only come back in the warmer months.

  Although I’d been here several times, once for two months as research for one of my books, then for the five years I’d lived there, I was instantly reminded that I did not fit in. Truly. Downtown Austin looked like fucking Mayberry compared to this place. While a couple thousand people swarming the streets of Austin was a lot, in this place, twenty thousand seemed like a low number.

  Not only was I inundated by the sheer number of people moving about, but the fucking frigid, shrivel-your-nuts cold wasn’t something I’d willingly subject myself to anymore. Not if I didn’t have to.

  Unfortunately, I had to.

  It’d been a week and a half since I’d talked to Liz, so when she’d left me a heated voice mail, informing me that I needed to come to New York on her dime so we could have a little chat, I knew I couldn’t argue. My deadline was looming—twenty days and counting—and Liz was getting nervous. As was I.

  And now, as I walked down Avenue of the Americas, trying to fit in once again with this crazy, chaotic city, I wished I were back home in my condo, staring at the blank pages of my notebook.

  Although I’d been inspired for that brief twenty-four hours, I’d found that my creative streak had been short-lived. I hadn’t written anything else in more than a week. I tried not to think about why that was, or whether or not Presley Abrams had something to do with it, but the only thing I could seem to do was think about her. Often.

  I thought about what it would be like to kiss her, to taste her, to make her buck against me. I imagined her smooth, warm skin in my palms, her nipples against my lips, her…

  Yeah, that was the shit I was thinking about.

  Only it didn’t help and was certainly not translating on paper. It was, however, giving my hand quite the workout. I felt like a teenager again, jacking off several times a day just to keep myself sane, only it never seemed to help. And though I could’ve easily called up some unsuspecting woman from my past, invited her over for some horizontal fun, I had no desire to do that. Perhaps a first for me.