Something Right (Exile Ink Book 2)

by Skylar Hill

  After getting rid of the panties, he pushed her gently down into one of the leather office chairs and dropped to his knees, loving how hot her eyes got when he did. She bit her lower lip at the sight, and it took so much restraint not to lean up and join her. Instead, he nudged her thighs apart, his mouth dipping down to her center, his tongue tracing along the sweet seam of her pussy. Her fingers speared through his hair at that first touch, twisting and pulling him forward as he licked into her.

  God, she was so sweet. He loved this, focusing on her, on the way she felt and tasted, on every tremor of her body, every moan, every time her thighs tensed up around him, pressing against his head with a strength that made it even hotter. He loved how strong she was, underneath all the lace and skirts and blouses scattered with stars. She was a beautiful collection of opposites. An enigma he needed to learn, like the tight bud of a flower waiting to unfurl.

  His tongue traced the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of her pussy, making her gasp and yank at his hair, mindless, wanting. His cock pressed hard against the confines of his jeans, but he ignored it.

  Right now it was all about her.

  He licked her pussy, slow and focused, feeling her growing more and more impatient as he avoided her clit. His tongue dipped into her opening teasingly, and he could feel her inner muscles clenching around nothing, desperate for his cock. But they didn’t have time for the kind of fucking he had in mind—not if they wanted to arrive at the Brewery before their friends got frustrated by their absence and ditched them.

  So he’d just have to make her come, hard and fast, all over his face and then hurry to dinner. The idea turned him on more than it should as he felt her legs lock around his shoulders, her ankles crossing as she tilted her pussy against his mouth. The whimper that escaped her was all adorable frustration and keening desire, and he gave into her incoherent pleas. He wanted to give her everything she wanted and more. He sucked on her clit, his teeth scraping the sensitive nerves just the barest amount, and that was all it took. She let out a sound that echoed in the empty room, a delighted moan as she rode the wave of her climax. He licked her through the pulses and aftershocks, drawing out kittenish, sleepy noises that made him want to drive his cock into her, so slow and sweet that she’d feel it the next morning. It took considerable control not to unzip his pants and do just that, but they needed to get out of here and to the Brewery.

  “You keep making me come and then not letting me do the same,” Cam said, pouting a little. He dropped a kiss on her forehead, loving that stuck out lower lip.

  “I love making you come,” he said. “It is, in fact, my favorite thing to do.”

  She smiled, a pleased, catlike smile that was all satisfaction.

  “You can make me come later,” he added.

  “Promises, promises,” she scoffed, and he kissed her lips this time, putting all the promise of things to come in the kiss.

  When he finally pulled away, their eyes meeting, his mouth quirked up. He could still taste her on his tongue, smell her on his skin. “Absolutely worth being late,” he drawled with a smile.

  By the time they got to McAvoy’s Brewery, Tasha had beat them there and was sitting at a table at the far corner of the rooftop bar with Aiden and Lydia. Tasha looked heartily amused as she munched on McAvoy’s special Parmesan potato bites and watched Aiden and Lydia trade their usual barbs.

  “Oh no, we left Tasha alone with them,” Cam said. “She’s not prepared for that.”

  James grinned. “Tasha can hold her own. Go on over. I’ll get you a beer.”

  “Something light,” she called over her shoulder, hurrying through the crowd, intent on rescuing Tasha from Aiden and Lydia’s bickering.

  James watched her for a moment, her golden hair glinting in the light from the round old-fashioned bulb lights that were strung crisscross over their heads. The night sky was clear for once, and the moon was hanging bright among the stars. For a moment, he just let the feeling sweep over him. Good friends, good beer, a good woman waiting for him. It had been a long time since he felt truly settled, but now he did—and Cam was a huge part of that. After the reality show ended, he’d spent so much time traveling. Setting down roots had been the furthest thing from his mind.

  He didn’t regret it. He was a better artist and a better man for all his experiences. But he hadn’t expected it to come at the cost of building more memories with his father. Losing his dad as soon as he did… it had never entered his mind. He had always thought there would be more time… until suddenly, there wasn’t.

  He hated to say it, but there was a part of him that was jealous of Aiden, of the relationship he had had with their father, one that wasn’t just father and son, but was scientist and inventor. While James’s temperament was much more like their dad’s, Aiden and their father had connected on a level James couldn’t. James had never felt like his dyslexia had held him back—probably because his parents worked hard to make him confident and encouraged his talents—but he also knew he and Aiden approached life—and problems—very differently. It bugged him a lot more when he was a kid, but he’d gotten over it, for the most part. Sometimes, though, he felt a twinge of it, especially now. There was a stab of envy that Aiden got all those years working with their father, side by side, every day. Even if James had wanted that, he wouldn’t have been able to. He was the odd one out.

  No one in his family was artistic. They were all scientific, logical, always wanting to test things a million times before drawing a conclusion. He was messy and open and he jumped in without looking to see if someone was there to catch him. He was smudged charcoal fingers; clean, bold lines on thick paper; ink curving over skin like something holy—and there was no McGowan who got that. It was one of the reasons he and Lydia had gotten along so well as kids. She understood artistic expression. It was almost like having a little sister who understood him, and that had helped. But he had always been looking for that soul-deep connection, that understanding, the meeting-of-minds that his scientist parents had. They had just got each other. They had been entirely on the same wavelength.

  With Cam, he felt like he’d found that missing piece of his life that was all art and beauty. Her heart was the place where he felt like he finally, truly fit. It was humbling. Exciting. Maybe a little terrifying.

  But he wasn’t going to be afraid. He was going to embrace it. And he was not going to fuck it up by pushing too hard. Ironically, he needed to be more like the scientific side of his family. He knew Cam had been hurt—he didn’t know how or by whom, but he could see the flashes of her wounded spirit sometimes. He wanted to know more. He was trying hard not to be frustrated that she was slow to open up. He knew he was being a little impatient.

  He crossed to the bar, ordering the beers from the bartender, who had a truly impressive mustache that was curled on both ends like a Victorian gent’s. James grabbed the pints with a smile, shaking his head as he made his way to his group’s table. Only in Portland.

  “Jay! Settle this argument for us,” Lydia called as soon as she spotted him.

  Tasha and Cam groaned, and James raised his eyebrow, sliding Cam’s pint across the table and sitting down next to her. His rested his arm over the back of her chair and winked when she nudged his fingers with her shoulder.

  “What are you and Aiden arguing about now?” James asked, and Aiden rolled his eyes, taking a long sip of beer.

  “He says no tattoos referencing significant others. Ever,” Lydia said. “But if you’re really sure, I say it’s romantic.”

  “More like foolhardy,” Aiden drawled. “Why would you want to tempt fate like that? What if you break up?”

  “That’s what cover-ups are for,” Tasha snickered and Cam giggled.

  “What do you think?” he asked Cam, squeezing her shoulder.

  “Well, we know I’m severely under-tattooed for an artist,” she said with a saucy grin.

  “I was going to ask about that,” Tasha said. “I was wondering.”

/>   “I only have one piece, though it’s very big,” Cam said. It’s was done by Margot Cunningham,” Cam said and Tasha gasped when she named the iconic artist.

  “Seriously?!”

  Cam nodded. “I was her apprentice right before she died.”

  “Cam’s piece is one of the last ones she did,” James added. “It’s gorgeous. Like her.”

  “Aw, you two are so cute,” Tasha said, leaning back and looking at the two of them. “I’d love to see it sometime,” she told Cam. “Though I’m guessing it’s in a place that requires some undressing so we’ll just have to wait for a beach day.”

  “You all make me feel distinctly boring, with my one tiny tattoo,” Lydia declared, making the rest of them laugh.

  “I love your tattoo!” Cam protested.

  “Oh, let me see!” Tasha said, and Lydia lifted up the hem of her blouse, tilting her torso toward Tasha, showing her the delicate watercolor tattoo of ballet shoes Cam had done for her. James caught Aiden glancing over at the two women and then looking away abruptly when he realized James was watching him. James raised an eyebrow at his brother and Aiden shot him a quelling look.

  “Cam, this is your work?” Tasha asked. Cam nodded. “I love it! We need to talk blending. The wash of pinks is gorgeous. We should collaborate sometime. I’d love to do a watercolor pin-up girl.”

  “That’d be cute,” Lydia said. “A mix of the classic and the new.”

  “It’s something a few of my L.A. clients would totally be into,” Tasha said. “Some of them will definitely be heading up here now that I’ve moved. We’ll have to give them some P-town flavor.”

  The waitress came by to take their orders and bring them more beer. The night continued on, filled with drink and McAvoy’s burgers that required two hands to eat. Tasha and Cam talked excitedly, making plans on offering their services for free at Exile Ink for breast cancer survivors seeking to cover their surgical scars.

  “Tattooing the surgical scars is a challenge,” Tasha explained. “It can be hard to get the scar tissue to take on really solid color. That’s one of the reasons I’m so interested in your style, Cam. I feel like with the watercolor style, we have more leeway with the scar tissue not taking ink well.”

  “Exactly,” Cam said excitedly. “We can design the watercolor pieces to accommodate the scar tissue.”

  “You two should talk to Grant when he gets here,” James said. “He’s done a lot of tattooing work on veterans. Working around and with scars definitely is in his wheelhouse.”

  “Fantastic,” Tasha said. “I’m excited to meet him. I’ve heard the stories, of course.”

  “I think everyone’s heard the stories,” James said as the waitress came to clear away their plates.

  “Okay, everyone,” Lydia said, leaning down to grab her purse. “This has been wonderful. But I’ve got a wedding tomorrow and two meetings after that, so I should get home.”

  “Workaholic,” Cam said affectionately, getting up and giving her friend a kiss on the cheek.

  “I should get going, too,” Aiden said, rising to his feet. “Tasha, glad to have you in Oregon with us. Cam, James, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow,” James said.

  “C’mon, Lydia,” Aiden said. “I’ll walk you out.”

  “Going to protect me from bad guys?” James heard Lydia ask as they walked away.

  “More like protect the bad guys from you,” Aiden shot back.

  “So… do those two realize they should be sleeping together?” Tasha asked as the three of them settled back at the table.

  Cam burst out laughing, and James rolled his eyes.

  “I told you!” she crowed at James.

  “It’s not like that,” he insisted.

  “I said the same exact thing to him the first time I saw them together,” Cam confessed to Tasha.

  “They like to bicker,” James said. “It’s always been like that. Even when we were kids. They just annoy each other.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Tasha said with an exaggerated nod. “Sure, James. Are we sure they’re not already sleeping together?”

  “Of course they aren’t!” James said.

  “If they aren’t, it’s really only a matter of time,” Cam said. “You can practically cut the tension with a knife.”

  “I thought I was going to have to put myself between the two of them before you guys got here!” Tasha said, a big grin on her face. “When I arrived, they were arguing about whether or not the science museum should ‘waste’ money on their gala. By the time I sat down, they’d switched to some land dispute I’d never even heard of. They seemed to agree on that one, but you wouldn’t know it from the tone of their voices.”

  “And you infer they want to sleep together from that?” James asked.

  Tasha shot him a “Aw, you’re cute” look. “When you fight with someone that much,” she explained. “You either hate them or …”

  “You love them,” Cam finished for her.

  “Yep,” Tasha nodded wisely. “You’re a pacifist, James. Fighting isn’t your thing. Aiden is… well, Aiden. And Lydia is a firebrand. For them, fighting is like foreplay.”

  “It’s going to happen,” Cam said serenely. “Lydia goes out of her way not to mention him.”

  Tasha whistled. “Oh boy, she’s got it bad.”

  “You two are just making stuff up now,” James said skeptically.

  “Don’t knock our womanly instincts!” Tasha said. She tapped her temple mysteriously. “We know these things.”

  “You’re drunk,” James said, laughing.

  “Okay, maybe a little,” Tasha said. Her phone buzzed. “And that’s my Uber,” she said. She got up from her seat, smiling fondly down at the two of them. “I’m so glad you asked me to come here, James. This is gonna be great.”

  She hugged both of them, a little clumsy, but affectionate and warm. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” She waved as she hurried away.

  Cam leaned into James, her head falling into the crook of his shoulder and neck.

  “I think you’re a little drunk, too,” he said, stroking her curls back. “You ready to go home?”

  “I’ve gotta go back to my place tonight, remember?” she asked. “I have all those paintings for my Etsy shop to do tomorrow.”

  He felt a twinge in his chest. She’d been staying over at his place more often than not, and he didn’t like waking up without her. He wished they were at the point where home meant the same place for both of them. “I’ll drive you, then.”

  She looped her arm into his, letting him pull her close as they walked out of the restaurant and towards his car. As she got inside, he leaned down to look at her.

  “You don’t really think Lydia and my brother are in love… right?” he asked.

  Cam laughed. “Oh, babe,” she said, her eyes fluttering tipsily. “You’re such a man sometimes.”

  He shook his head, getting into his Tesla and shutting the door. “I still think you’re wrong,” he said.

  “I bet you ten dollars that this time next year, Lydia and Aiden will be together,” she said.

  “Ten whole dollars?” he asked, loving how adorably serious she was when she had too many beers. She was even sticking her lower lip out and holding her hand for him to shake. “I’ll take that bet,” he said, grabbing her hand. Instead of shaking it, he used it to pull her forward, his mouth covering hers.

  She tasted like pale ale and a hint of cranberry, and he wanted nothing more than to take her home, to his home, to his bed, and keep her with him.

  “Damn, honey,” he whispered against her lips. “You make it hard for a man to leave you alone.”

  Chapter Five

  Cam

  When Cam woke the next morning, she felt cold. She had gotten used to James sleeping next to her. She sat up, realizing she was half-reaching for him in her sleep and her fingers curled around the space in her full bed he’d occupy if he was there. He barely fit in her double bed, he was so tall, but they’
d crammed together a few times, the glow-in-the-dark mountains and forests that she’d painted shining above them on the ceiling.

  The light had crept in, the mountains fading with the darkness, and Cam squinted at her alarm clock, realizing it was nearly ten. It was unlike her to sleep this late, but as she got up, her head throbbing a little from the alcohol, she realized she’d probably needed the extra sleep. The delicate strap of her lace sleep top slipped off her shoulder as she got out of bed, puttering around in her kitchen as she made coffee and got ready for her day. As she drank her coffee, she made a neat list of the watercolors she had to paint for her Etsy shop and then headed to the living room, where the gray light poured in from the skylight. She set up her easel. Painting with watercolors was a little different than traditional oil paints or charcoals, since she didn’t work on canvas, and most traditional easels were set up to hold canvases. And easels, especially for watercolor painters, were expensive, so she’d spent ten dollars on a sheet of plywood, sawed it up into pieces, sanded them down, and had nailed them together to create a slanted easel she could place on her desk without worrying about the paper fluttering to the ground. The wood was stained with smears of paint from throughout the years, just like the painter’s smock she slipped on over her clothes before she sat down. Switching her phone to do-not-disturb, she craned her neck from side to side and settled on the little padded bench she sat in when she painted.

  For a long time, she just stared at the paper affixed to the easel, picturing the image in her mind, adding layer upon layer mentally as she visualized the portrait. She had a preliminary sketch she’d sent to the customer for approval earlier that week, a watercolor of the customer’s cat. She found herself doing a lot of custom pet portraits, and she liked the sweetness and occasional silliness of some of the requests she got. She’d once painted someone’s pug devouring a first-birthday “smash” cake, much like a proud parent would photograph their baby’s smash cake moment. And she did a lot of paintings of pets who had passed away, which was bittersweet, but she loved the idea of her art as a memorial, an integral part of the healing process.