by Jess Bryant
When she’d excused herself to go to the bathroom earlier, she’d taken a couple of selfies… but not of her face. She’d sent a picture of the top of her thighs, her long skirt hiked up until it was almost indecent, along with a question about exactly how high Colt thought the garter tattoo should go. And, since she’d gone that far, she went ahead and snapped a shot of her inner thighs too, spread slightly to give him a glimpse of her panties, just to see if she could get a reaction out of him.
She had and her phone hadn’t stopped blowing up since. Colt was fuming which only made her smile grow. She could practically hear him growling at her in that sexy low voice of his about sending photos of her body to men. He’d snapped something rude about her boyfriend needing to keep her in line too. After that, the messages had continued to come in randomly, almost as if he would put the phone down for a few minutes and then go back, look at the pictures, and get mad all over again.
Or turned on. She hoped he was turned on. If he was angry she hoped it was because he was turned on and he didn’t think he could do anything about it. She figured she was the perfect girl for him because it got her all hot and bothered thinking of him angrily shoving her against a wall and dragging her dress up so he could see exactly what she’d sent in the pictures and more.
Her fantasies about Colt were never soft and gentle. When she dreamed about him it was always hard and rough. Wild. Out of control. Needy. Those were the things that he made her feel so it was only natural that when she thought about them getting physical she would think of hard bodies and rough words and…
“Sky?”
And, she was going to need a cold shower if she kept thinking about that. Not that it would work, not where her Colt fantasies were concerned. God knew she’d taken enough cold showers and had enough sessions with her battery operated boytoy to know nothing could scratch her itch but the man himself.
“I’m not setting up a booty call.” She shrugged innocently and put the phone aside again, “I am getting an appointment for some new ink though.”
“You’re getting a new tattoo?” He nodded thoughtfully, “What’re you getting this time, if you don’t mind me asking?”
She bit her lip because she wasn’t going to tell Trey about the tattoo. She liked that it was something she only shared with Colt. Liked that he’d drawn it specifically for her, liked that he would be the one to ink it and liked that he would be the first, and only, man to see it on her naked body.
“Not sure yet.”
“Not sure yet?” Trey looked skeptical. “But you’re setting up an appointment?”
“Yep.”
“Yeah, sure, never mind. I don’t even want to know what you’re really planning.” He chuckled.
“Good call.”
Her phone buzzed again and Trey laughed, “Are all of those messages from him?”
“Yeah.” She bit her lip to stifle her grin but failed miserably.
“I take it you’re not texting him back?”
“Nope.”
That earned her another chuckle, “I’d ask why but I have a feeling I’d get the same response.”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Exactly.”
They fell into a brief lull in the conversation and Skylar sighed because she knew she should excuse herself and go home. She’d overstayed her welcome already. All of this talk about Colt was too much, too soon. And not just because it was Trey she was talking to about it, though she sensed as easily as he’d accepted their breakup and the cause of it that there would have to be some resentment on his part. It was more that things were so up in the air with Colt that she didn’t want to reveal the depth of her feelings until she knew more.
It didn’t seem right to be sharing her feelings for Colt with Trey. Not when she hadn’t told Colt about them first. Not when she hadn’t told Colt at all.
“I can see you thinking over there.” Trey glanced at her from half-closed lids, a smile tipping his mouth, “Trying to figure a way out of here without hurting my feelings?”
She smirked, “You really do get me, you know that?”
“Yeah. I know.” He sat forward again, “And you can go home, Sky. I’m fine. Promise.”
“I know, I just…”
“We broke up. It’s not the end of the world. Go home. Stop overthinking things with me. Definitely stop overthinking things with that tattooed bastard you seem to like for some reason. Just let it happen.”
She blew out a heavy breath. Let it happen. She wanted to push and shove and force things but he was right. If she pushed Colt right now, he would push back. They’d already been doing this dance for too long. She’d taken the only steps she could for tonight. She’d ended her relationship and she’d done some casual flirting via text. Now she’d just have to see what happened.
“Thanks Trey, for everything.”
“What are friends for?” He winked playfully.
“You’re a really good friend.”
“So are you.”
They exchanged a warm hug that lingered just a second too long. It didn’t feel wrong anymore. Whether that was because they’d broken up and were hugging as friends or because she’d finally come clean about her feelings for Colt, she didn’t know. But it was nice to hug Trey now, to know that she would still get to see him and have him in her life.
“Bye Sky.”
She waved goodbye and headed to her car. It was a short drive home to her apartment from Trey’s house. Even still, he was right. She hadn’t needed a second glass of wine. She promised herself that she’d text him once she got home to let him know she’d made it and thank him again for everything.
She hadn’t needed a second glass of wine, and not just because driving impaired was a terrible idea. Dialing impaired was too. She glanced at her phone a few times but it didn’t buzz. It had finally stopped lighting up with messages and it felt like a loss. She wanted to talk to Colt, wanted to know that he was still thinking of her, even if he was only cursing at her for sending him completely inappropriate pictures and then not responding.
But she didn’t do it. One glass of wine had helped her send those pictures. Two would have helped her send a whole lot more. And Trey was right. She couldn’t force this onto Colt mere hours after she ended her relationship. She had to let it happen naturally.
A few minutes later she pulled up in front of her apartment. Her gaze automatically swung to the door on the other end of her building. There was a light on inside and the truck sitting in front of it told her all she needed to know. Colt was home.
But she wasn’t going to do anything crazy tonight, she reminded herself as she trekked inside.
She ignored the empty apartment as best she could. Tried to ignore the fact that once Jemma came home from her trip that she would finish moving her things next door. And then Skylar would be alone all the time.
It shouldn’t have been a big deal. She’d lived alone for years. But she didn’t want to go back to being alone.
A small idea that she’d had once before seemed even better with the wine running through her system. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could switch roommates with Cash. He could take Jemma but only if he gave her Colt. She grinned to herself as she crawled into bed, thinking about just how much of a fight the man would put up if she suggested such a thing.
Almost the second her head touched the pillow, her phone buzzed again. Her smile grew as she pulled the phone from the nightstand and saw that it was another message from Colt. He’d stopped texting her before she left Trey’s and she hadn’t expected to hear from him again. She braced herself for another message berating her about her inappropriate pictures but the short text surprised her.
Glad U R home. C U tomo.
He knew she was home? Had he been watching for her? Or had he just happened to look out as she came in?
Before she could talk herself out of it, she hit dial and called him instead of responding to the text message. When it rang once and then twice with no answe
r she tried not to feel hurt that he hadn’t immediately picked up. He’d sent that text message moments ago which meant he was staring at his phone, trying to decide whether to answer her call or not and that stung.
“Hey.” His deep, husky voice finally answered on the fourth ring.
“Hey.” She responded cautiously.
It was one word. She shouldn’t be able to read into it, but she could. She knew Colt. No matter how he tried to push her away, they were friends. She knew his voice. She’d memorized that deep baritone of his ages ago and she could tell the different nuances of his moods. That one word, hey, had come through loud and clear and the ensuing silence only confirmed her suspicion.
Something was wrong.
“I’m home.” She said softly, trying to gauge what was going on without pressing him for more than he would give.
“I saw you come in.” He sighed heavily, “It’s late. I was starting to think you weren’t coming home tonight.”
“Of course I came home, where else would I have stayed?”
The silence was deafening and she knew then what he’d been thinking. Trey. He’d thought she was staying the night with Trey. Was that why he sounded so forlorn? He’d thought she was out with her boyfriend? Damn, she’d wanted to tell him this in person.
“Colt, I think…”
“I worry about you.” He cut her off and her heart flipped. “I’m glad you made it home. I couldn’t go to sleep not knowin’ if ya were home safe or out there somewhere.”
As much as she liked the admission something about his words was off and it killed her to ask, “Colt… have you been drinking?”
“A little.”
She bit her lip to stifle a whine. Colt hated drinking. He very rarely did it. His father was an alcoholic that had gotten drunk and beaten him and his brother repeatedly throughout their childhood. The only time she’d ever known Colt to pick up a bottle was when he was edging towards destruction. When the worst parts of his family, of his life, got to be too much he drank. He tried to drown the bad and forget for a little while but it never worked.
He only ended up hating himself too.
She’d seen it, more than once, though of course he’d tried to keep that from her too. He hated that part of his world, the darkness that came with his last name, and she hated that he had reached for a bottle tonight and she wouldn’t have known if she hadn’t called. He could have suffered and hurt in silence but instead he’d picked up the phone so she knew she had to tread lightly.
If she said the wrong thing, he’d hang up. He’d shut her out. And she wasn’t sure she could take that tonight.
“A little?”
“Yeah, just a little.” He blew out a breath, “I was feeling… alone.”
Her heart ached at the whispered confession. She wanted to get up and walk over to his apartment but she knew she couldn’t. This entire conversation was more intimate than he’d ever let her get. Still, that was so Colt to say that he felt alone, not lonely. Alone he could deal with but lonely wasn’t something he would ever admit.
“I get it. My apartment feels empty too.”
There was a long moment of silence and then he sighed, “Cash is gone. He never used to be gone and I hate it. I shouldn’t say that. I know he has Jemma and they’re happy and all but… fuck, I feel like I’m losing him and I hate it.”
If her heart hadn’t already been aching, it would have fallen to pieces right then. Colt was the talkative half of the twins. He could bluster and bullshit with the best of them but he rarely spoke about his family, even to her. Hearing that he missed his twin broke her heart. She couldn’t deal with Sad Colt.
He and Cash were a set, a pair. They did everything together. She knew enough of their horrible upbringing to know that neither of them would have survived if the other hadn’t had their back. It had only made them closer.
She missed Jemma and her friend had only been back in her life on a regular basis for a couple of months. Of course Colt would be feeling the same things she was only amplified by about a million. How had she not thought about how Cash moving forward with Jemma would feel for his twin? She’d chosen to be alone for the past few years, wanting to prove her independence. Colt had never been alone, not even in the womb, and it must have felt like abandonment even if he was happy for Cash.
“I’m glad he has Jem.” Colt continued, as if he knew what she was thinking, “She’s good for him, for both of us. I’m happy for them. I just… miss him I guess. Fuck, I sound like a goddamned baby. Ignore me. I’ll pass out as soon as I finish this bottle.”
She winced at that, “Do you want me to come over? I can. Then neither of us will have to be alone tonight.”
Nothing but silence greeted her and God that hurt. She wanted him to say yes. She wanted to go to him. She wanted this chance with him more than she wanted air to breathe. She wanted to be the one that made him feel not so alone but she knew she couldn’t force him to let her closer.
“Colt?” She finally prompted when he remained quiet.
“That’s not a good idea.”
She bit her lip, “Oh… okay.”
“Fuck, I… No. I appreciate the offer but no. Don’t come over here. I won’t be able to… I can’t. Just don’t.”
“Okay.” She repeated when he cursed on the other end.
“Skylar?”
“Yeah?”
She held her breath when he said her full name. There was something happening. Something she didn’t understand. Something she wished he would explain to her but knew that he wouldn’t even before he sighed again. She could imagine him shaking his head and grasping his liquor bottle again, convincing himself that it was a bad idea to invite her over for reasons she didn’t comprehend.
“You should get some sleep.” He finally cleared his throat.
“Okay.” She blew out the breath she’d been holding, “See you tomorrow?”
“For the tattoo. Yeah, I didn’t forget. See ya tomorrow.”
“Goodnight Colt.”
“Night Sky.”
The line went dead and she dropped the phone when a sob tore through her unexpectedly. She curled into a ball and tried to hold the tears back. She couldn’t even really explain to herself why she was crying. All she knew was that she felt alone too. More alone than she ever had in her life. And if she didn’t somehow convince Colt to let her in, she thought she might feel that way forever.
Chapter Eight
His hands were shaking. They were actually fucking shaking. It was a terrible thing for a tattoo artist to have shaky hands and he silently cursed himself as he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans.
Was it the alcohol? He’d woken with one hell of a hangover. He always did when he drank which was why it was his last resort. When all else failed to quiet the demons, he got shitfaced drunk and last night even that hadn’t stopped the voices.
After his run in with Skylar, he’d gone home feeling edgy and out of sorts. He’d never apologized to her before but he’d known that she deserved the words after the bullshit he’d hit her with at the shop. He’d hated hurting her and he’d been so worried about losing her for good that he’d done the only thing he could think of and given her the tattoo he’d drawn for her months ago.
He’d had it all along, ever since their discussion about it, but he hadn’t convinced himself to give it to her until yesterday. Before yesterday, he’d looked at it and imagined another man seeing it on her body. The very idea had made him impossibly angry and jealous and he’d all but refused to ink it on her. Today, he still hated the idea of that boyfriend of hers getting to enjoy the beautiful mark he would put on her flawless skin but it was the only thing he’d been able to think of that would show her he meant the words.
Then he’d run into her, hugged her, let her closer than he’d ever let her before and that thorn under his skin had scratched at his heart again. He wanted her. He wanted every part of her. He wanted the right to hold her and talk to her and just be with her.<
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But he wasn’t good enough for her and the longer he’d sat alone in his apartment, the louder the voices had gotten in his head.
No, not voices. It was just the one. Decker’s voice. It haunted him. It always had. Even when he tried to shut him out, he was always there, wreaking havoc and threatening to destroy him. Every time Decker had told him that he was useless, worthless and a mistake had risen up to drown him in the flood of godawful memories.
So he’d gotten drunk. He’d tried to numb the self-pity and the self-hatred that came with his past. But none of it had helped last night, nothing had, not until he’d heard Skylar’s sweet voice on the other end of the phone.
He’d been sober enough to know that letting her come over would be a bad idea. He hadn’t been in control. It wouldn’t have been safe. He’d have let her comfort him, basked in her sweet, forgiving, good nature and he’d have let it go too far. He’d have blown their entire relationship to hell just to have her in his arms, just to taste her one time.
All day, he’d tried to convince himself that he was more in control than he had been last night. He was sober. He was focused. He knew better. He could handle himself and not be the fuckup that his father thought he was. But as the time for Skylar’s appointment grew closer, his hands had started to shake and he didn’t think it had a thing to do with alcohol.
He was nervous. Like a teenage boy with a chance to see the head cheerleader, he was antsy as hell. He’d cleaned the shop over and over just to keep himself busy. When Remy had teased him about it, he’d sent his brother out to run errands to get him out of the shop. He’d tried not to think about it, about her, but the moment the bell over the door dinged to announce her entrance, he knew that it was completely useless.
He was screwed.
Skylar was here, in his shop, to get a tattoo. She was going to crawl into his chair and expect him to do his job. Only she wasn’t just a client, she was the one woman in the world that he wanted and couldn’t have and to make it worse, she was the one woman that reacted to his needles as if the mix of pleasure and pain could make her climax.