Embraced in Ink

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  “Damned traitor,” she grumbled. She slowly slid her now damp hand from between her legs and out from inside her panties.

  She had once again given herself an orgasm while dreaming. One where her dreams were so real that she’d let herself fully come while asleep, not even knowing her unconscious self couldn’t help but keep going.

  This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. She’d gotten herself off in her sleep more than once, and had even done so when she was sleeping next to her boyfriend.

  He had thought it was hot, and both of them woke up during that instance, and it had led to more sexy times.

  Of course, her dream man in that particular dream had been a celebrity she’d had a crush on—one she’d met before and knew. So that had been quite embarrassing.

  Sex dreams about strangers were usually fine.

  After all, you couldn’t help where your mind went when you were asleep.

  However, the fact that she had met that certain celebrity meant that every time she thought about him, and especially the next time she saw him, she had blushed profusely.

  And she hadn’t stayed with her boyfriend for long after that. Not because of the sex dream, but mostly because he was a jerk.

  Only, hell, now she was having sex dreams about Marcus.

  Her whole body shook, and she sat up, straightened her tank top, and wiped her hands on her sheets. She would have to wash the damn linens anyway after this.

  Only her mind kept going back to the dream. And who starred in said dream.

  Marcus. Her best friend.

  Her fucking fiancé.

  How the hell had that happened?

  Running her other hand through her hair, she swallowed hard, wondering if maybe she had drunk too much the night before. No, that wasn’t the case. It really couldn’t be.

  She hadn’t had more than a glass of champagne before she accidentally ended up engaged to her best friend.

  She honestly hadn’t known their bet would go this far. She hadn’t let herself think it could. Not when it had been a simple promise between friends that was anything but simple. And though they didn’t go back on their promises, ever, it wasn’t supposed to be real. Only everybody looked so excited, if a bit confused. But they were all super happy. And she didn’t want to disappoint them. When Marcus didn’t say anything either, she realized there was no turning back. And, boom, engagement.

  Now, here she was. Somehow, Marcus had gotten her home, and they hadn’t spoken the entire time.

  Bristol always talked. She rambled. Constantly.

  She’d once rambled to a prince and a duke to the point where they had backed away slowly as if scared.

  But with her best friend? The one she’d never once shared a seriously awkward silence with?

  She hadn’t said a word for the entire fifteen minutes it had taken him to drive to her house.

  He had dropped her off, and hadn’t said anything either, simply walked her to her door because that’s who he was. Neither of them said anything as she closed the door behind herself.

  But she knew he was going to be here today.

  They would have to talk about it. Fix it.

  Somehow.

  The doorbell rang twice in a row, and it sounded almost angry.

  And then she realized exactly what had woken her up from her naughty dream.

  No, it wasn’t the orgasm, it was the doorbell.

  She jumped out of bed and searched for shorts or pants but couldn’t find them.

  The doorbell rang again, and then her phone started buzzing. She ran to the door, afraid it was an emergency.

  She didn’t care that she was only wearing panties and a tank top, and her nipple was showing. She had to make sure everyone was safe.

  She flung open the door without bothering to look and froze.

  “Marcus,” she said. She couldn’t help but remember exactly the way her voice had sounded when she breathed his name as he pistoned inside her with that thick and meaty cock.

  She did not know what Marcus’s cock looked like, and only Dream Bristol had ever thought about it—lie. She was never going to know what his dick looked like.

  Right?

  Dream Marcus was a totally different thing. He did not exist. She was fine. She wasn’t losing her mind.

  Bristol looked up at her best friend—or maybe he was her fiancé, she wasn’t quite sure right then—and tried to catch her breath.

  He had on a leather jacket, a white T-shirt, and jeans. His hands were in his jacket pockets, and he looked at her, his jaw tense.

  “Bristol,” he growled.

  Growled? Marcus didn’t growl at her.

  And then she remembered what she was wearing. Or rather, what she wasn’t wearing.

  She stumbled back, tripped over her shoe since she hadn’t put them away the night before, and nearly fell right on her ass before Marcus reached out and grabbed her by her elbows. He was strong enough to keep her on her feet, and she was grateful.

  Because she would’ve gleefully fallen on her butt, broken a hip, anything to protect her hands and her arms.

  They were insured, after all, and needed for her livelihood.

  And now she was thinking about injuries to herself rather than the fact that she was now firmly pressed against her best friend/fiancé—nearly naked.

  “I really need to put on some clothes.”

  “Yeah, I think you really do.”

  But he didn’t let go of her. And she didn’t pull away.

  Instead, she swallowed hard and looked up at Marcus, and then licked her lips.

  She noticed that he noticed the action, and she knew they’d both lost their minds. Because that was the only rational explanation for what was going on.

  She did not want to have sex with her best friend, but that sex dream, and the way her pussy still clenched at just the thought of him? Okay, maybe she did want to have sex with her best friend.

  Oh my God, how did this happen?

  “You should let go of me,” she said softly, and he nodded.

  “I don’t want you to trip and fall on your ass. You’ll never let me live that down if you get hurt because of that.”

  She scowled. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

  Marcus let her go, and she felt cold immediately.

  Again, she didn’t want to think about that.

  “You would totally blame me. It’s what we do.”

  She nodded, her body threatening to shake. From what? She didn’t know. “Okay, you have me there. Now, really, I should go change.”

  Marcus’s gaze slid down her body, and she bit her lip, doing her best not to tug down her tank. Because if she did, trying to cover her panties or her thighs, she’d show all of her boobs rather than the peek of nipple that she was for sure showing already.

  Not to mention the fact that her tank top was white, and he could probably see the entire areola. Why did she sleep in this again? She wasn’t trying to be sexy, it was simply the fact that she got hot and liked to sleep under like fifty covers.

  And now Marcus knew that.

  Because every other time he had ever slept over, mostly if they had gotten too drunk or had a sleepover because they were best friends, she’d always worn long shorts or flannel pants, with a shirt that covered her completely. She did not parade herself in front of her best friend.

  Until now.

  She nodded, turned on her heel, and ran toward the bedroom. She slammed the door behind her and swore she heard a groan from the other room.

  It was only in her imagination. Clearly. There was no way he was thinking anything along the same lines she was.

  She quickly tugged on jeans, a bra, and a T-shirt. And then pulled on a knit wrap so she could cover herself up even more.

  The only thing bare was her feet, and he would just have to deal with that as she hated socks.

  She did her best to look calm, but there was nothing settled about her.

  Not anymore.

  She quickly brushe
d her teeth, did her business, and tried to make her hair look somewhat presentable, but there was nothing to be done about it.

  Later, she would have to do laundry, shower, and try not to think about the fact that the last time she had been in that bed, she had given herself an orgasm. Dreaming about Marcus.

  No, she wasn’t going to think about that.

  It had only taken about five minutes to get everything done, but it felt like an eternity, and yet not nearly long enough.

  Bristol took a deep breath and told herself to calm down. She didn’t need to stress out. They were going to figure out what to do and tell everybody calmly that they had heard wrong.

  And then things would go back to normal.

  Whatever her normal was.

  She walked out into the kitchen where Marcus stood, her cup of coffee already on the counter and doctored the way she liked it. His cup sat near him as he stood next to the stove, egg whites in a pan along with spinach, cheese, the champagne tomatoes she adored, and turkey bacon.

  “That smells amazing,” she said honestly, her mouth watering.

  Marcus looked over his shoulder and appeared a little relieved.

  That she was talking to him? Or that she was actually clothed?

  She didn’t honestly know what she wanted the answer to be.

  “Breakfast is almost ready. Figured you’d need something in your system after last night.”

  Bristol frowned. “I wasn’t drunk.”

  “Sure.”

  “I wasn’t. I swear.” She paused. “Thank you for making breakfast, though. You know that’s my favorite meal other than something with strudel and cream cheese and lots of calories.”

  Marcus huffed.

  “Thank you. Really.”

  “You’re welcome. Don’t get crabby. Drink your coffee.”

  “I’m not the one who’s crabby,” she muttered under her breath before taking a sip of her coffee. It was the ideal temperature and the flavor was spot-on, with the perfect ratio of sugar to cream.

  Of course, he got it right. He knew everything about her. He was her best friend.

  She held back a wince. Well, he didn’t know everything, because if he did, he would know that she’d had a sex dream about him. Now, here he was, watching her. Had practically seen her naked. In the buff, after she’d had really amazing dream sex with him.

  How was she going to get through this day without losing her mind?

  “I heard that.”

  It took a moment for her to register what he referred to. Sex? No, not naked dreams. He meant the crabby comment.

  “I didn’t say it in my head, therefore, I figured you would hear it.”

  “Eat your breakfast, drink your coffee, and then we’ll talk.”

  Bristol sipped her drink and looked down at the plate that he held out. It was perfectly presented to her, with a little sprig of rosemary on top and everything.

  She hadn’t even known she had fresh rosemary in her fridge. Marcus had found it and had made it perfect for her.

  If he hadn’t gone to college to be a librarian, followed something he was passionate about and really damn good at, she’d always thought he would have gone to culinary school.

  More tasty goodness for her, though...since he’d always be in her life. That was the reason for the engagement, after all. She wouldn’t complain.

  Right?

  “Thank you,” she said, taking the plate from him.

  “You’re welcome. You could have set the table.”

  “I just woke up. I’m sorry. Let me have my coffee, and I’ll stop being such a bitch.”

  “Stop calling yourself a bitch. You know I hate when you do that.”

  She rolled her eyes but smiled. He hated any woman being called a bitch, including if you called yourself one.

  She didn’t always do a good job of that.

  “Seriously, though, thank you for breakfast. I guess we need to talk through the events of last night.”

  He grunted and started shoveling food into his mouth.

  He didn’t always eat like that, but she figured it was because he didn’t want to talk. Not that she really wanted to talk either. It was already awkward. It was only going to get worse as the day went on.

  They finished their meals in silence, another of those awkward silences that she wasn’t used to when it came to him. She ate as quickly as he did, drinking a glass of water he had set down on the table for her.

  He was always taking care of her. She was doing her best to reciprocate. She wasn’t always great at that, though.

  It wasn’t that she was self-centered. No, she did her best to take care of everyone, but Marcus always seemed to be two steps ahead of her.

  She felt like he had always been in her life. Ever since they were around six years old in the same grade school class and were forced to sit together when the person who had been sharing her desk had pinched her sides and pulled on her pigtails.

  She’d kicked the boy in the junk, and Marcus had held her back from doing anything else, mostly because he had wanted to do it himself, but the teacher hadn’t said anything about his part.

  Instead, Bristol had gotten in trouble and then was forced to sit with Marcus.

  They’d become best friends after that, and had rarely been separated since.

  Well, not so much in the past ten years. After she had left her twentieth birthday party, an odd agreement in the back of her mind, her life had exploded, her career on a trajectory even she and Liam couldn’t fully comprehend.

  Her big brother had made it big in the modeling world, and even bigger in the author world, and now she was doing the same in the musical world.

  She still couldn’t quite believe her luck, even though she knew it wasn’t simply luck. She worked long days and would have to work and practice for hours later today for her upcoming tour, as well as to start making new music because she wanted to work on another album.

  So, it wasn’t only talent and luck.

  She worked damn hard.

  And Marcus had always been there for her, every step of the way.

  She let those thoughts filter through her mind as they finished up their breakfasts, and she took his plate and his mug, doing the dishes without speaking.

  “So, what are we going to do?” he asked, and she let out a shaky breath and turned to look at him in her kitchen.

  He looked as if he fit there, like he’d always been part of this place. In a sense, he had. He’d helped her move into her house, helped her decide where her spices needed to go in her kitchen. He likely knew he would be doing more cooking here than she would.

  He had done so much for her, and it felt like this was a new person standing in front of her now, and she had no idea what to say.

  “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

  “We were lying, though... Are we truly engaged?” He voiced the words, and even though she knew he was right, it still hurt to hear them. Did he not want to be engaged to her?

  It wasn’t that insane a thought.

  She might as well be honest. Because part of her wanted this. The bit she’d silenced for so long. And if she had this excuse...no, she couldn’t think like that. Or, could she?

  “I don’t know. I mean, that was the rule we set for each other. That we would get married. It happens, right?”

  She still couldn’t quite believe she’d said those words.

  “You want to be engaged?” He didn’t sound incredulous. If anything, he sounded neutral, as if he were hiding his emotions. She didn’t know why that got to her more than it should.

  “I don’t know.” She ran her hands through her hair and paced around the kitchen. He moved out of the way, and she was grateful because she didn’t want to run into him. Didn’t want to touch him when that action could suddenly hinder her thoughts. How had that happened so quickly? “I mean, everyone looked so happy. Like they were expecting it.”

  Marcus nodded. “Everyone assumes we’ve been secretly
dating this whole time. Or forever, however many months it’s been.”

  “Just because they assumed we were dating, which I don’t actually believe everyone did, it doesn’t mean we actually need to go along with it.”

  “I know that,” she exploded, throwing her hands up into the air. “I’m pretty sure my brothers all knew. I mean, they know everything. The fact that our mothers looked so happy, as if they had wanted this all this time… I mean, they couldn’t stop hugging each other and crying. That worries me.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, leaning against the counter. He folded his arms over his chest, and she swallowed hard. She couldn’t help it. He had taken off his jacket, and now his really sexy forearms were on display. She didn’t know when she’d started thinking of his forearms as sexy.

  Had it been before the engagement, or was it a new thing?

  Maybe she had just been hiding so much of what she wanted for so long because of the labels they put on each other.

  Or maybe she was thinking too hard.

  “They really think we’re engaged,” Marcus said softly.

  “They do. And I guess we need to tell them the truth. But your mom, she looked so happy.”

  Marcus closed his eyes and cursed. “And if we tell her the truth, she’s going to be devastated. You saw the way she looked.”

  “I don’t want to hurt your mom.”

  “She’s been through enough.”

  And that was an understatement. Marcus’s mother was an amazing woman but was a heart transplant recipient. And while she was doing well, she was still on many meds, and her doctors were afraid that her body wasn’t going to handle the new heart for very long.

  She was strong, but the disease that had wrecked her body the first time could still come back.

  Any stress like this would be too much for her, and Bristol felt like a horrible person.

  “I don’t want your mom to get hurt because of us.”

  “We can’t get married because of my mother,” Marcus said, his voice low.

  “I know. We also made the rule.” She didn’t know why she was saying this. Maybe deep down, she did. But she didn’t want to think about it right now. “We told ourselves that we would get married once I turned thirty if neither of us was married. And unless one of us is hiding a spouse, we’re both single.”