by Laura Kaye
“Aw, God, Becca,” he groaned as his orgasm nailed him in the back. On a series of punctuated thrusts, he sought to get as deep as he could as he poured himself into her.
When their bodies calmed, Nick shifted, but Becca grasped at his hip. “Don’t leave yet.”
“Don’t want to crush you,” he said, kissing her temple.
“I like the feeling of you on top of me.”
Nick chuffed out a small laugh. “Keep talking like that, and I’m gonna get hard again.”
Becca smiled. “I wouldn’t complain.”
His head resting against hers, Nick sighed. Contentment. Such a foreign feeling. And yet he found it in Becca’s arms. And had, from the very beginning, even when he’d been too stubborn and too proud to see everything that she was.
And that was the moment Nick knew what he was doing during Becca’s first day back to work. He wanted her in his life. He wanted that life to start now. Hell, to start yesterday. And he wanted it to be forever.
And that meant he needed a ring. The rightness of the idea settled bone-deep inside him. As much as anyone, he knew how life could change in a single unexpected instant. No way did he want to wait even a second more for their future to start.
“Nick?” she said, pulling him from the plans taking shape in his head.
“Yeah?”
“Will you do something for me tonight?”
He finally shifted off her, his body settling alongside hers so he could look at her while they talked. “You can always assume the answer to that will be yes, Sunshine,” he said, brushing her hair back off her face.
“I’ve been thinking about it, and I’d like you to give me a tattoo tonight,” she said, bright blue eyes looking up at him with so much warmth.
The request sent his heart beating a little faster. Nick was half owner of Hard Ink Tattoo, though he’d only been working as a tattoo artist on a part-time basis since he’d been discharged from the Army. “You know I’ve been dying to put my ink on you,” he said with a smile.
She grinned. “Well, now’s your chance.” She pointed toward the drawer on the nightstand. “I printed something out to give you an idea.”
Nick couldn’t move fast enough. After all the times they’d talked about what she’d want if she ever got a tattoo, and after all the times he’d drawn on her body with skin markers just to put his mark on her—even if only temporarily—he couldn’t wait to see what she’d finally decided she wanted on her skin. Forever. He sat on the edge of the bed and unfolded the sheet while Becca knelt behind him, her front pressed tight to his back, her arms wrapped around his stomach.
It was three intertwined cursive words.
Only. Always. Forever.
“Fuck, Sunshine,” Nick said, remembering the night he’d shown her the tattoo he’d gotten on his forearm for her and she’d written the word YOURS over her heart with a marker. That had set off a raw, urgent lovemaking that had included them writing words of claiming and love and intention all over each other.
Only. Always. Forever.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“I think it’s perfect,” Nick said, staring at the page. Damn if his throat didn’t get a little tight at the thought that she wanted to put their words on her body. “Do you know where you want it?”
She kissed the side of his neck and her breath caressed his ear. “On my right shoulder.”
Nodding, Nick could already picture it—and it made him even more certain about what he needed to do today. “It’ll look beautiful there, Becca.” He shifted to the side so he could wrap her in his arms. “You make me fall in love with you a little more every day. You know that?”
“I think that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Her kiss was slow and sweet and lingering. “I don’t want to, but I should get moving.”
“I know,” Nick said, standing and giving her a hand off the bed. He watched her walk into the bathroom, his mind back on his plan for the day. Because he was giving her more than a tattoo tonight. And he couldn’t fucking wait.
CHAPTER 2
A few blocks away from the hospital, the nerves Becca had been shoving down all morning finally pushed through. Ridiculous to be nervous about returning to a place where she’d worked for years. But she was. Because the last time she’d been there, a man named Tyrell Woodson had grabbed her from behind, jabbed a knife into her ribs, and tried to abduct her from the staff lounge. Only her struggling—getting cut in the process—and Nick arriving, well, in the nick of time, had saved her from God only knew what horrible fate.
Even worse? The man had gotten away and tried to grab her again, though the team had caught him that time and made sure he wouldn’t be a problem anymore. So Becca shouldn’t be nervous. She shouldn’t be worrying. And she certainly didn’t want to let on to Nick that she was.
They caught the red light a block away from the hospital’s downtown Baltimore campus, and Nick turned to her from the driver’s seat. “I’ll pick you up at seven, and then we can grab some dinner and head down to Hard Ink.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said with a smile, looking forward so much to finally getting a tattoo—from Nick. He brought their joined hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. God, she loved this man. He’d insisted on driving her. Truth be told, she hadn’t minded the extra time with him. It was going to be weird to go back to work in the emergency department after all these months off. All the people at Hard Ink had come to feel like her family now in addition to her brother, Charlie, who was in a relationship with Nick’s younger brother, Jeremy. She was going to miss seeing them all the time.
Moments later, Nick pulled the car over to the curb in front of the hospital. “Have a great day, Sunshine,” he said, leaning over the center console. His kisses made her want to stay. “Be safe.”
“I will,” she said, ignoring the butterflies in her belly. It really was ridiculous. “Miss you already.” And then she was pushing out of the car and crossing the wide sidewalk plaza in front of the hospital’s tall glass entrance. She’d purposely arrived close to the beginning of her shift so that she wouldn’t have much time before she’d be busy, which she knew would be the perfect cure for her nerves.
A chorus of greetings rose up from the nurse’s station of the emergency department. Becca made her way inside and gave a round of hugs. Luckily, things were busy enough with the shift change that no one had time to linger. She headed to the staff lounge to stow her belongings.
Alison Harding came out of the lounge just as Becca reached for the door. “Oh, Becca, it’s so good to have you back,” the woman said, a hint of sadness in her bright green eyes. Becca had been subbing for Alison the day the attempted abduction had occurred, and Alison had sent more than one guilt-ridden, apologetic text. Not that Becca blamed her. It was hardly Alison’s fault that the undercover military investigation into narcotics smuggling that Becca’s father had been investigating in Afghanistan had spilled over into the United States. Or that the bad guys had been selling their heroin to the Church Gang, headquartered just across the city in Baltimore. Or that somehow the bad guys had discovered that Charlie had stumbled onto his father’s activities, leading them to grab him and attempt to grab Becca as well.
“It’s good to be back,” Becca said.
“How are you doing? Did the police ever catch the guy?” Alison asked, tucking a strand of light brown hair behind her ear.
“No, they didn’t,” Becca said, unable to share what she did know—that Nick’s team had caught and interrogated Woodson, and that Nick had threatened the man within an inch of his life. “But I’m good. Really good.”
Alison frowned. “God, it’s scary that he’s still out there, isn’t it?”
Becca’s belly did a little flip. “No, I really think he’s long gone,” she said. Marz had taken video of him spilling his guts about the Church Gang’s secrets, which Nick had promised to put in the gang leader’s hands should Woodson ever come near Becca again. A
lready beaten up for having failed to capture Becca, Woodson had tripped all over himself promising to stay away for good.
“Well, I hope so.” Alison gave her an unconvincing smile. “All right. I’ll see you out there.” She squeezed Becca’s arm and headed down the hall.
Taking a deep breath, Becca pushed into the room where she’d been attacked, worried that it was going to be filled with all kinds of ghosts. Instead, she found a big bouquet of balloons, a sheet cake that read, Welcome back, Becca! and a plastic-wrapped bunch of flowers lying on one of the tables. The overhead lights and morning sunshine spilling through the window near the door—the door through which Woodson had tried to drag her—made the room bright and cheery, not the scary, dark place her nightmares sometimes depicted.
Shaking her head at herself, Becca crossed to her locker and ditched her purse. She made a small corner piece of cake with a big pink frosting flower her breakfast, then found herself so immersed in patients that it was noon before she knew it—and time for the other thing she wasn’t looking forward to: an appointment with a hospital psychologist. It was standard operating procedure after the attack and the long leave of absence, but Becca wasn’t relishing being asked to talk about what had happened. And she was well aware that medical personnel sometimes made the worst patients, herself included. She was way more comfortable taking care of others than being taken care of herself.
She waited in the fifth-floor mental health services suite. Finally, the door to the waiting room opened, and a tall, attractive woman in dress pants and a crisp blouse stepped out. “Becca Merritt?”
“Yes,” Becca said, tossing the magazine she’d been skimming to the coffee table.
“I’m Dr. Parker,” the woman said. “Please, come in.”
Becca had seen her around the hospital a few times but didn’t know her well. “Thanks,” she said, slipping into the well-appointed office—all warm tones and relaxing landscape prints. She took a seat on the sofa.
The doctor grabbed a pen and folder from her desk, then sat in an armchair and smiled at Becca. “How has your first day back to work been?”
“Fine. Busy. But I’m right back in the swing of things,” Becca said, lacing her fingers in her lap.
“Good, I’m glad to hear it. You know this meeting is routine. The hospital just needs to touch base, given the traumatic event that led to your leave of absence.” Dr. Parker scanned a sheet inside Becca’s folder.
Becca nodded. “I understand.” Woodson had somehow managed to gain access to a set of hospital credentials and had posed as a maintenance man, so the hospital had been concerned that Becca would sue. But more than that, traumatic events could lead to bad decision making, which was never an acceptable risk when those decisions were of the life-and-death variety.
“So how are you doing? How are you finding being back in the hospital again?” The doctor’s expression was carefully neutral, but Becca didn’t doubt for a moment that her reactions were being scrutinized.
So she went for honesty. “I was a little nervous about coming in before I got here this morning, but once I was here, I was fine. As soon as the shift started, everything felt normal. So I think I’m doing pretty good.”
Dr. Parker nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. Are you having any nightmares, anxiety, issues with panic, sleep or appetite problems?”
Becca clutched her hands tighter. “I’ve had occasional nightmares, and for a while I was jumpy if someone approached me from behind, but I haven’t had any of the other issues.” Frankly, given everything that Nick’s team had faced during their investigation into the men who’d killed her father and abducted Charlie, Becca’s issues had taken a total backseat. And she’d been fine with that. Because she had been fine. And the last thing she’d wanted to do was distract or worry Nick by making him think she was anything but fine. Not when his life had been on the line—so many times. “The whole thing could’ve turned out a lot worse than it did, so I mostly feel lucky.”
“That’s a great way to look at it.” The doctor scribbled something inside the folder. “Do you have any concerns about being back to work?”
“None,” Becca said. “I’m glad to be back.” And she was. She’d known she wanted to be a nurse since the age of thirteen, when her mother had died of an aneurysm. The feeling of helplessness Becca had experienced that night had made her determined to be able to help if something similar ever happened again to someone she cared about. She loved what she did.
After a few more questions, Dr. Parker handed her a form. “I’m happy to clear you to return,” she said. “Just sign where it’s highlighted.”
“Great,” Becca said. “Thank you.” She signed and handed back the form, and then it was time for her lunch break.
Back in the staff lounge, she found a couple of people hanging out around the half-demolished cake. She was glad for the company and conversation as she settled down to the turkey sandwich, chips, and yogurt she’d brought from home, and she was equally glad to find that no one treated her weirdly despite the fact that everyone knew what had happened to her that day. Even if you could keep gossip that juicy under wraps around there, which you couldn’t, the hospital had undertaken a security reevaluation and had implemented some new procedures and security mechanisms as a result. So her attack was no secret whatsoever.
Still, as the day progressed and patients were admitted in a nonstop stream, she found it easier and easier to relax. Finally, seven o’clock rolled around, and a bundle of anticipation took root in her belly. She couldn’t wait to see Nick, and she really couldn’t wait for him to do her first tattoo.
In the staff lounge, she collected her purse from her locker and gathered the flowers to take home. There wasn’t much cake left, and she figured the night shift would easily finish it. The balloons made the otherwise plain blue-and-white lounge more cheery, so she decided to leave them there. They wouldn’t fit in Nick’s sports car anyway.
Not wanting to keep Nick waiting, Becca rushed across the room with her arms full. The door yanked open right in front of her, and a tall, bald man with dark brown skin stepped into the opening, looming over her.
Becca nearly choked on a gasp. Tyrell Woodson. For a moment, she was sucked back into the past so thoroughly that everything around her disappeared.
“Oh, sorry about that,” the man said, his voice deep and friendly.
She blinked and swallowed hard. Not Woodson. Holy shit, not Woodson. What’s wrong with me? Becca forced a smile. “Oh, no. Not your fault,” she managed. “I wasn’t paying attention.” He wore blue scrubs, not a maintenance uniform. And the identification tag clipped to his pocket read Benton Tucker, Certified Nursing Assistant. She stepped back to let him in.
He pointed at the flowers. “Are you Becca?”
“Uh, yeah,” she said, her heart still racing in her chest. “How’d you know?”
“The cake. I had a piece earlier. When it still said your name,” he said with a deep chuckle.
She smiled. “Right. Glad you got some, because it’s almost gone. Free food never lasts long.”
Another chuckle. “I guess that’s right. I’m Ben,” he said, extending his hand. “I’ve only been here for about a month.”
“Nice to meet you, Ben,” she said, returning the shake and feeling bad for the way she’d reacted to him, which had been not only ridiculous but also embarrassing. Not to mention a little concerning. For a moment, her brain had been entirely convinced that Woodson had been standing in front of her, despite the fact that Ben bore only a superficial resemblance to him. While both men were tall and dark skinned, Ben’s head wasn’t bald, like Woodson’s, but was covered with closely trimmed hair. Ben didn’t have any tattoos or scars, whereas Woodson had been covered in them. Ben’s face was lean, and he wore a neatly trimmed goatee, where Woodson’s face had been round, his cheeks full. And Ben radiated an easygoing good humor, not the menace she’d gotten from Woodson. “Well, hopefully our shifts will overlap soon. Hope you have a
good night.”
“You, too, Becca.” He gave a wave and turned for the cake table.
Becca pushed out into the hall. After she’d successfully battled back her nerves all day, freaking out just because a man had stepped in front of her made her feel defeated and weak and stupid. And that pissed her off. She was stronger than this. And she refused to let a little anxiety get the better of her. Woodson was gone. The Church Gang had been largely destroyed. And Nick and his team had exposed the corruption that had led to her father’s death and the team’s being railroaded out of the Army. They’d also gotten the justice they deserved.
Everything was good now. The crises were all behind them.
Outside, July heat wrapped around her despite the evening hour, but the only thing Becca cared about was the man sitting in the black car idling at the curb. She rushed across the plaza, the smile on her face growing when Nick noticed her coming.
She couldn’t get in the car fast enough. “Hi,” she said.
“Sunshine,” Nick said, the word filled with so much emotion it made tears prickle against the backs of her eyes. “Missed you.” His hand found the back of her neck and pulled her in for a long kiss.
“Missed you, too,” she said. His presence chased away the last of her nerves and allowed her to take a deep, cleansing breath. She was fine. No big deal.
He threw the car into gear and eased into traffic. “So, how was your day? Everything go okay?”
“Yeah,” Becca said. “Everything went great.”
CHAPTER 3
You made Sloppy Joes,” Becca said with a big grin when they got home. The rich, spicy smell of Nick’s one and only specialty filled the whole loft apartment—and the gesture filled her heart with so much affection. He’d made her Sloppy Joes the very first night she’d spent there at Hard Ink, back when everything had seemed so uncertain, back when it had seemed like she might lose everyone she had left.
Nick grinned as he moved to the Crock-Pot on the counter and lifted the lid. “I did. Thought you might enjoy something homemade after a long shift.”