Something Right (Exile Ink Book 2)

by Skylar Hill

  Something Right

  An Exile Ink Book

  Skylar Hill

  Contents

  Also by Skylar Hill

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Something Real

  About the Author

  Also by Skylar Hill

  Copyright © 2017 by Skylar Hill

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Charlee Hoffman

  Edited by Laurel Hardy

  Created with Vellum

  Also by Skylar Hill

  Steamy Standalones

  For Keeps

  All Worked Up (Coming in May)

  The Exile Ink Series

  James and Cam:

  Something New (Book 1)

  Something Right (Book 2)

  Something Real (Book 3)

  Aiden and Lydia:

  Just One Night (A Prequel Short Story)

  Coming Soon:

  Just One Word

  Just One Touch

  Just One Kiss

  For my husband,

  who did the dishes the entire time I was writing this one.

  Chapter One

  Cam

  The early morning sunlight, muted from the clouds gathering in the sky, streamed through the slats of the bamboo blinds as Cam flipped them open. The scent of coffee curled in the air as she stirred the frothy brown mixture in the French press before pushing the grounds to the bottom. She pulled out a big mason jar full of the homemade granola Lydia had sent over, spooned the cereal into bowls, and sliced strawberries to sprinkle on top. She shivered a little in the cool morning air as she poured herself her first cup of coffee.

  She hadn’t even pulled on a robe—one of her vintage silk ones had migrated over to James’s place, like so many of her things in the last three months. She stood in the kitchen in a pair of cotton gingham boxer shorts and a lace-lined top that swung loose over her breasts, cut off teasingly at her ribcage.

  Cam pulled the blinds up all the way and leaned against the sink to stare out the window at the day as she sipped her coffee.

  She loved the early morning, when the day was just beginning and everything was full of possibility.

  The morning is when everything is brand new. That’s what she used to tell Evie when she was little, especially those first few years after their mother died, when things were really bad and she was trying to make ends meet any way she could.

  Cam shook her head, banishing the memory. It had been a long time ago.

  And she’d made her and Evie’s lives brand new.

  Suddenly, strong arms looped around her waist—James, pulling her out of the past into the warm, muscled present of his body. She set down her coffee, smiling as the smell of his skin—like snow and the forest—filled her senses.

  James’ hand came to rest against her stomach, drawing tickling little circles up her ribcage, brushing against the sensitive bottom curve of her breast. She took in a quick breath, the weight of her breasts rising and falling against his fingers at the movement.

  She hummed a little, leaning into him, her head tilting forward as he brushed her hair over one shoulder and ran his lips down the back of her neck.

  "Morning," he murmured against her skin.

  "Morning," she answered, unable to stop herself from rolling her hips into him. She felt his morning erection twitch between her cheeks.

  "Oh, what's this?" he asked, his voice teasing, but his body intent as he rocked his hips against her with enough force to make her gasp. "Did you wake up all needy?”

  She bit her lip, nodding her head as his lips grazed against the column of her neck.

  "I had a dream about you," she confessed as his fingers crept into the leg of her boxers, tracing along the edge of her folds. She moaned as he parted her, feeling when he did how positively soaked she was.

  “That must’ve been a good dream," he murmured.

  "It…" her breath hitched as he pushed one long finger into her. "It was," she moaned.

  "What was I doing in your dream?" he asked, thrusting in and out of her with exquisite control, making her restless, making her wiggle against him, desperate for more. She loved his hands—they didn't just make her scream, they created such beautiful art, which is maybe why it turned her on so much when he took her like this, fucking her with his fingers, giving her the hard pressure she craved.

  "You…ohhh!" He slid a second finger into her, crooking them against her G-spot. "You were going down on me," she panted. "You had me spread out on the bed, my legs over your shoulders, pinning me there with your hands on my hips."

  "I like the sound of that," he said, nudging his fingers deeper into her, stroking the sensitive walls. She could feel herself growing wetter around him as her fingers gripped the sink's edge, trying to gain some sort of control. “Was my mouth on you?”

  She nodded her head, unable to continue, unable to do anything but concentrate on the exquisite clench of her pussy against his fingers.

  “I love going down on you,” he told her, his fingers stroking in and out of her like he would if he was fucking her with his cock. “Sweeter than honey, Cam. That’s you.”

  She could feel herself flush, staining the tops of her breasts, spreading up her neck to her cheeks. Just a little more, just one little push, and she’d spill over the edge. Her legs trembled with the effort, her breath quickening as his lips pressed against her ear.

  “Maybe I’ll pin you down and eat your pussy tonight,” he murmured against her ear, his hot breath against her skin twisting down into the core of her. “Maybe I won’t let you up until you’ve come so many times you’ve lost count.”

  The pressure mounting inside her, building in her whole body, burst at his words, at the thought of the dirty promise he painted for her. Her pussy pulsed helplessly around his fingers, rippling with the force of her orgasm as she sagged against him, grinding down even as she crested over and over, wanting to milk every aftershock from her body.

  “Gets me every fucking time,” he muttered, his hands leaving her hips to push down his boxers. His cock sprang free, slapping against her ass, the heavy weight and searing heat filling her with delicious anticipation.

  She loved how much he loved when she came. She’d never met anyone so focused on her orgasm before, so devoted to making her come not just once, not just twice, but as many times as he could.

  His cock slid against her opening, and she whimpered, still sensitive, but so ready for more, when a shrill ringing broke through the early morning silence.

  Cam jumped a little at the unexpected sound.

  “Shit.” James looked over his shoulder, where his phone was ringing on the counter. “I can ignore it,” he said, turning back to her as it stopped ringing. “See?” He grinned, leaning down to kiss her.

  The phone began to ring again.

  James sighed against her lips, bending down and retrieving his boxers. Cam watched as he grabbed his phone off the counter, swiping it on.

  “This better be good—” he started, then frowned. “Wait, seriously? Fuck. Okay. I’
m on my way right now. Twenty minutes.”

  He pulled his boxers back on. “Honey, I’m sorry,” he said. “A pipe burst at the building. I’ve gotta go in and take care of it.”

  “Did anything get damaged?” Cam asked, alarmed. While none of the really expensive tattooing equipment was being stored at the warehouse, there was a lot of construction material lying around right now.

  “I’m not sure. I’m gonna go handle it,” he promised, leaning over and kissing her. His hand travelled to her rear end, squeezing her ass, bringing her hips against his hard. She could feel his cock grind against her and when he pulled away, there was a damp patch on the front of his boxers.

  She bit her lip, squirming with how much it turned her on to see that, and squirming even more when her eyes raised to see him grinning like he knew exactly was she was thinking.

  “Sorry I started something I couldn’t finish,” he said with a roguish grin. “Rain check?”

  She shot him an equally sassy smile, propping her hand on her cocked hip. “I’m not complaining. At least I got to come.”

  He mock gasped, his eyes glinting with humor. “Such a brat.” He kissed her again, his fingers winding in her hair, a sweet, good-bye, baby sort of kiss she never thought she’d have. She leaned into him, emotion she wasn’t quite ready to identify rising inside her.

  “I’ll call you as soon as I have an update about the pipe situation,” James assured her. “You’ve got brunch with Lydia, right?”

  Cam nodded. “Then I’ll be at the studio,” she promised.

  She watched him leave, a silly smile on her face. She pressed her fingertips to her lips, her heart beating fast. She hadn’t thought it was possible to be this happy, but here she was.

  She glanced down at her own phone to check the time and yelped, hurrying down the hall to the bathroom. She needed to get into the shower and then downtown if she was going to meet Lydia in time.

  An hour later, she pulled up to Zell’s Café, just ten minutes late. Lydia was already waiting for her inside the charming little restaurant, seated in the corner next to the picture window. Her brunette friend waved when she saw her, the silver of her delicate bracelet catching the sunlight.

  Lydia was bright and sparkling too: The kind of woman who drew eyes when she entered a room—not just for her beauty, but for her style and the kind of elegant energy she exuded. Once upon a time, she’d been groomed to be a ballerina, surely headed towards Prima status, when a career-ending injury her first year as an apprentice destroyed her dreams. Instead of letting it ruin her life, she’d changed gears and opened what quickly became the hottest event planning business in the Pacific Northwest. Everyone wanted to throw a Lydia Munroe soirée, and she was often booked years in advance for certain VIP events.

  Cam admired her friend. She wasn’t sure what she would do if she wasn’t able to draw anymore. She didn’t think she would be able to handle it with as much grace as Lydia seemed to have. She hadn’t known her then, but she spoke of it fondly during their tattoo session last year. The delicate ballet slippers she’d inked onto Lydia’s ribcage had been the reason James had asked to meet her, the art that had drawn him to her, and for that alone, Cam would always have a special fondness for the piece.

  Lydia got up as Cam drew close, hugging her. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!"

  Cam laughed. "It's been like three weeks," she said, sitting down.

  Lydia rolled her eyes dramatically, managing to flop into her chair gracefully. “I already ordered your regular,” she said.

  “Bless you,” Cam said. “I’m starving.”

  Lydia propped her chin on her hands. “So dish. How are things going?"

  "Great," Cam said. "The studio's about three months from opening, if everything keeps going smoothly. Knock on wood."

  "Amen," Lydia said, rapping on the wooden table with her knuckles. "But I didn't mean the business, even though I'm glad that's going great. How are things going with Jay?" she asked, referring to James with his childhood nickname.

  Cam smiled. She couldn't stop herself. "Things there are great, too."

  "It's been what, almost four months now?" Lydia asked.

  Cam nodded. The waitress came by, dropping off their food. The heavenly smell of brioche French toast drizzled in a salted caramel sauce filled the air.

  "Oh my God, that looks amazing, I want a bite of it," Lydia said, as the waitress set her fruit plate down in front of her.

  "You are so healthy, it makes me feel guilty," Cam said, taking a bite of French toast, most of that guilt fading as the sweetness flooded her taste buds. "Oh wow, it is amazing, though."

  Lydia shook her head. "Don't—women need carbs, too," she said. "It's all about balance. Eat a salad later and voila! No more guilt."

  "We don't all look like you," Cam said teasingly.

  "Pish-posh." Lydia wrinkled her freckled nose. "You are beautiful. And you have an amazing body and sense of style. Not to mention, I could do ten hours of squats a day and I'd never have your ass."

  "Lydia!" Cam burst out laughing and her friend joined her.

  "Well, it's true," she said between giggles. "I bet you don't even do squats!"

  "I do too!" Cam said. “Russ isn’t my trainer anymore, but he’d come back to kick my ass if I wasn’t keeping up.”

  Lydia laughed. “I forgot about Russ,” Lydia said, sighing. "That man is so beautiful. If I had no morals, I'd try to steal him from his wife."

  "You would not," Cam scoffed. Lydia didn't have a cheating bone in her body, and they both knew it. "Plus, Russ is a one-woman sort of man," Cam said. She’d trained with Russ, who specialized in self-defense when she first came to Portland, but he was busy running his successful security firm now. She’d actually introduced him to his wife that first year she and Evie had moved to Portland. Russ was one of the sweetest guys she knew, and she'd never met any man so devoted to his wife. They were the kind of couple who inspired hope and also a bit of a bittersweet wistfulness, because surely not everyone could find that kind of love.

  "Have you seen him with Annie? The way he looks at her…" Cam trailed off, aware she was on the edge of sighing too. She’d watched Russ and Annie fall in love from the sidelines, a bit player in their love story, and it had been so beautiful and humbling to watch. When Annie had asked her to make a speech at their wedding, Cam could barely get through it without crying—and neither could the rest of the guests.

  "He looks at her like the way Jay looks at you," Lydia said.

  Cam's heart leapt in her chest. She had to bite her tongue to stop herself from blurting out Seriously? In this hopeful, kind of desperate way.

  "He does!" Lydia said, misinterpreting the look on her face for doubt instead of hope.

  The last four months with James had been some of the most amazing of her life. Everything—from construction of the tattoo studio to movie nights with just the two of them—had been effortless and easy, like he was supposed to have been in her life this whole time.

  They'd been spending their days together at the warehouse that would soon house Exile Ink. The work was hard, but rewarding. She came home dirty and streaked with paint or caulking or wood varnish.

  Their nights involved a very different kind of dirty.

  You would think walking around in a near-constant post-orgasmic state would daze a woman, but instead, Cam felt like she could conquer anything.

  Being with a man who seemed to have made it his mission in life to make her come as hard and as often as possible had its perks.

  She finished her French toast, listening to Lydia talk about her latest event for the museum of modern art’s annual gala.

  “I’m thinking a circus theme,” Lydia said. “Aerialists, acrobats, fire breathers, the whole nine yards.”

  “Extravagant but classy,” Cam said. “I like it.”

  “It’ll probably have to be outside,” Lydia said, sighing.

  “A little rain never hurt anyone,” Cam said. “We d
o live in Portland. We’re used to it.”

  “True,” Lydia said. She checked her watch. “Cam, I hate to dine and dash on you, but I’ve got a meeting clear across town, and traffic will be awful..”

  “Go, go!” Cam waved her off. “I’ve got the check. I’ll text you later.”

  “Give Jay my love.” Lydia grabbed her purse, stabbing the final piece of melon from her fruit bowl and popping it in her mouth. “Off to deal with the sweetest bride ever,” she said, dread on her face.

  “Why do you look like death, then?” Cam asked.

  “Because the mother-in-law is evil incarnate,” Lydia said. “Wish me luck!”

  “Good luck!” Cam called as Lydia disappeared out of the café.

  Chapter Two

  James

  By the time James got to Exile Ink—he’d stopped thinking of it as “the warehouse” the second he’d decided it was the right space for the studio—Aiden had arrived. His older brother, for once, looked a little unkempt. His blond hair was wet and slicked back, his normally neatly pressed suit coat now crumpled and tossed aside, big spots of water darkening his blue button-up shirt.

  “Shit,” James said, stepping around an enormous puddle of water as he made his way farther into the studio.

  “I got the water main to the building turned off,” Aiden said. “None of the equipment was harmed, but now…” he gestured to the water flooding the floor at least an inch deep.

  “Shop-vac?” James asked.

  “Shop-vac,” Aiden agreed, pulling his phone out. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll have four on their way here, and we can clean this up.”

  “I’m gonna go get some towels or blankets or… something,” James said.

  The two brothers parted, Aiden heading outside for better reception, James walking into what used to be the factory floor but was now Exile Ink’s main room, where the public tattooing stations and the client lobby would be. Thank God the pipe hadn’t burst in here, he thought as he grabbed a stack of towels left behind by the paint crew. They’d just finished the drywall.