by Ranae Rose
Arianna’s stomach was a mass of knots, and she could feel her pulse beating, radiating throughout her tensed-up body. Telling the truth was even harder than she’d anticipated. Maybe it would get easier with time. After all, what could her future hold that could possibly hurt more than what she’d endured in her past, or James rejecting her?
“I was pregnant once,” she said. “I had a baby.”
CHAPTER 12
For a long time, James was silent. Half hidden by his coffee cup, his face was unreadable. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly soft. “Did something happen to it … the baby, I mean?”
Arianna shook her head, horrified at the sudden pressure that welled up behind her eyes. “No, no – nothing like that. She was fine – is fine. She was adopted just after birth.”
Adrenaline flooded Arianna’s system, filling her mouth with a coppery taste as she waited for his reaction.
When he said nothing, her fears were confirmed. She’d expected him to lash out at her, but if he was too disgusted to respond at all … well, that was even worse.
“Now you know why we’re not compatible,” she said.
He set his coffee cup down on the counter and straightened, eyes still locked with hers. “Why?”
Why had she given her daughter up for adoption? A million reasons…
“I was only 16. The father wasn’t much older than I was and dumped me a few days after I told him I was pregnant. Said I should have an abortion, and that it was my problem if I did something stupid like choose to have the baby…” She shook her head, shame creeping over her as she thought back to how stupid she’d been to ever be with such a loser. Sure, she’d only been a teenager, but still…
She hated that she’d once been naïve enough to actually think Cody had loved her. Looking back on it, she felt cheated in the worst way – manipulated into taking risks he hadn’t been willing to take with her, when it really came down to it. Nothing had ever made her feel so stupid as that one-sided love.
“I never could’ve afforded to take care of her. I lived in a two bedroom house with my parents, sharing a room with my sister. I was only a sophomore in highschool. I—”
“No.” James shook his head. “Not that. I mean, why aren’t we compatible?”
Arianna blinked, unnerved by the moisture that clung to her eyelashes. “I gave up my baby. She’s 10 now and has been raised by another couple – strangers – her whole life. I know how you feel about your sister … about parents who don’t take care of their children.”
“Arianna.” He frowned. “You’re not like my sister. For fuck’s sake… I’d never think that about you. And if you were only 16, maybe letting a stable couple adopt your baby was taking care of her.”
For several long moments, Arianna said nothing – did nothing. James’ words washed over her and through her like an electric shock. She’d expected to have to explain – argue, even – if she was going to have even the smallest chance at making him see the truth: that giving up her child had been agony, and that she’d truly done it out of love.
It’d been her way of righting the wrongs that had led to her pregnancy in the first place, her way of giving her child what she’d always craved: unconditional love, the experience of being the center of someone’s universe. Was it really possible that he already understood … that she’d almost ruined everything for nothing?
“I didn’t think you’d see it that way.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“You thought I’d look down on you?”
She nodded.
He swore. “The state took me and my sister away from our parents when I was seven and she was five. I went into my first grade classroom one day with a broken nose, and the school guidance counselor got the story out of me.” He tapped a finger against the bridge of his nose, where a small bump was still visible.
“The drugs, the neglect and the abuse… Everything was so shitty at home, but Crystal and I were still afraid to leave. They took us anyway, of course, and by that time, we weren’t lovable little babies. We ended up staying foster kids until we hit 18. And you know what? Some of the foster parents we stayed with weren’t much better than our real parents. And none of them wanted us for very long. Most of the time, Crystal and I didn’t even live with the same family.”
“I’m sorry,” Arianna said, her gut wrenching as she imagined James as a small child, hair bright as gold, face streaming with blood.
He shrugged. “It’s in the past now. Point is, I wish my mom had done what you did, Arianna. Given us up when we were born, let us have a chance with a real family. That would’ve been… That could’ve changed everything. But not everybody cares about their kids enough to do what’s best for them.
“I’m not saying you ever would’ve used drugs or hurt your baby or anything like that,” he continued. “But you let her be adopted because you thought she’d have a better life that way, right?”
Arianna nodded. How could she possibly explain that once she got to the hospital, the decision that’d seemed so logical had ended up tearing her apart? Her own love for her baby combined with surging hormones had created an instant bond that’d been excruciating to destroy. The birth had hurt, physically – afterward she’d been left bruised and bleeding, stitched back together in places so tender it’d been hell just to sit. But none of that had hurt a fraction as much as handing Miranda over to Joy and Dave.
“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” James said.
The pressure behind her eyes reached breaking point as she realized that she didn’t have to explain. James was already on her side. It’d been so long since she’d had anyone who hadn’t tried to shame her over being a teen mother…
“I’m sorry,” she said as a tear slipped free and burnt a trail down her cheek. “I misjudged you.”
“Give me a chance to prove myself,” he said. “That’s all I’m asking. Let’s do this a while longer. We’re right for each other; you’ll see that.”
She shook her head. “You’ve already proven yourself. I was just afraid… I was sure you’d reject me when you found out about my baby, and I couldn’t stand the thought.”
He crossed the tiny kitchen, and before she could draw another breath, he wrapped his arms around her.
If she’d had any air in her lungs, she would’ve lost it right then and there. Instead, she breathed deeply, inhaling his scent. It was even better than the coffee aroma that lingered in the air.
They sealed the moment with a kiss that made her heart race. She leaned into it, but as his hands settled on her hips, a small sound came from her bedroom.
The giggle was enough to have them pulling reluctantly apart, letting a little distance separate their bodies. To say that Maya was mobile was an understatement, and that reality drove thoughts of using the kitchen table creatively from Arianna’s mind. “I’d better go make sure she’s not trying to climb my bookshelf again.”
When Arianna reached her bedroom, she found Maya curled on her little bed, smiling in her sleep. Still, the nap probably wouldn’t last much longer. Returning to the kitchen, Arianna pressed a kiss against James’ jaw, ending it sooner than she really wanted to. There was no way the gesture could convey everything she felt: the overwhelming sense of relief and rightness, the desire that was more intense than ever.
“Sorry my babysitting is putting a damper on our alone time,” she said. It was so rare for him to have time without Emily, it seemed too bad that he and Arianna weren’t free to spend it how they’d like.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice a little rough. “I want you, but it doesn’t matter. All I care about is that you want me too.”
A tremor raced through her, causing everything inside her to draw up tight for one breathtaking moment. “I definitely do.”
Silence stretched between them, fraught with temptation. “Here,” she eventually said, taking his hand and leading him out of the kitchen, “I have something to show you.”
They st
opped in the living room, and she nodded at the picture hanging above her couch. “Her name’s Miranda.”
A sense of relief rushed through her, even before James replied. She’d kept her promise to herself, and it felt … right. The weight of keeping her secret was gone, replaced by the satisfaction of having someone to share it with.
“Do you have any other pictures?” he asked. “Do her parents send you any or anything like that?”
“Yeah. Every year, on her birthday. Do you want to see?”
“Yeah.”
She retrieved the heart-shaped box from under her bed, vowing to find a better place to keep it. When she returned to the living room, she settled down onto the couch with James, and he wrapped an arm around her as she lifted the lid.
* * * * *
“When I came to you for my first tattoo, I was kind of worried,” Arianna said, shivering as James’ fingertips skimmed her hip, tracing the colorful design there. “I thought you might see my stretch marks and realize that I’d had a baby.” She bit her tongue, stifling a gasp as his touch slipped below. “I didn’t think we’d ever end up seeing each other outside of Hot Ink, of course, but I was still nervous that you might ask.”
As he lay stretched beside her on her bed, he shrugged, his bare shoulders rising and falling. “A lot of the women I tattoo have them, and yours are so faint – the kind that could be just from growing, not necessarily from pregnancy. I didn’t think anything of it.”
The marks striped her hips, pale white lines against darker skin. “Well, I noticed them every time I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror after showering in the morning. They reminded me of everything that had happened, and it hurt. That’s why I wanted to get a tattoo on my hip, so I’d see something pretty when I looked at myself there.”
He made a sound deep in his throat. “You were pretty without any ink there. But yeah … the tattoo looks pretty damn good, if I do say so myself.”
He moved before she could say another word, sliding down the bed, his naked body slipping against the sheets. When he pressed his lips to the tattoo in question, her entire body tingled.
“I was a little worried when you came to me for your first tattoo too,” he said, raising his head enough to meet her eyes. His breath streamed hot over her hip, her pussy, tempting her to wriggle in search of more direct contact.
“Why?” she asked.
“I was afraid you’d realize I wanted to do this.” He lowered his head between her thighs, pressing his mouth full-on against her sensitive skin.
She did more than wriggle then – she writhed. “Really?”
He nodded, drawing his tongue over her clit before meeting her gaze again. “I remember it like it was yesterday. The way you sat in my chair with your jeans unbuttoned and unzipped… I could see your panties. They were purple, and I wanted to rip them off you.” He brushed his lips lightly against her mound. “Thought about it the whole time. I know it’s unprofessional as hell, but… Can you blame me?”
A breathless laugh escaped her as secret pleasure unfolded inside her. He remembered what color panties she’d been wearing? That’d been almost a year ago… “No. I might’ve had a few of those sort of thoughts myself.”
“Oh yeah?” His breath was still rushing over her skin, teasing.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“If I’d known that, I would’ve made my move a long time ago. You were hard to read, though. Figured if you knew just touching you made me hard, you might never come back.”
His words inspired a wave of what-ifs, along with another shiver. Had they missed out on nearly a year they could’ve spent together?
Maybe, maybe not. There was no telling how things might’ve worked out under different circumstances. “I’m glad we’re together now.”
“Me too.”
He stopped teasing her then, applying his tongue to her clit with a clear, singular purpose. The slide of it against her sensitive skin was perfect, each stroke building on the last, pushing her close to the climaxes that came so easily when she was with him. His touch dispelled every past disappointment, showing her what she’d missed out on for the first 26 years of her life.
No one had ever cared enough to touch her like he did – as if his pleasure depended on hers.
She’d made some bad decisions in the past, mostly out of ignorance. That was over now. James was one good decision she planned to stick with. Forever, if he was up for it. Reaching down, she buried her hands in his hair.
He moaned as she closed her fists, knuckles going white. His hair was short, but still long enough to hold on to.
She came with his tongue against her clit, his hands on her thighs, fingertips denting her skin deeply as he held her steady. The climax hit her hard, building up to a breathtaking peak and then spiraling down, until her bones felt like jelly.
His cock slid up her inner leg, stiff and thick, as he settled between her thighs. He surprised her by rolling over, pulling her on top of him.
Still a little shaky, she braced herself with a hand on his chest. A swallow’s wing peeked from between her fingers, dark ink that stood out boldly beneath a haze of golden chest hair. “Did you get these at Hot Ink?” she asked.
He nodded. “From Jed.”
“I like them.” She traced the contour of one bird’s delicate body. The design was classic and looked good against his classically masculine frame, all lean muscles, dark ink and just enough hair. “Why’d you choose this design?”
There were personal reasons behind all her own tattoos – a fact that made her deeply curious about his ink, especially the tattoos on his chest, which stood out the most.
He shrugged, muscles rippling beneath her palm and splayed fingers. “Sailors used to get them, back in the day. They said that if you died at sea, the swallows would fly down and retrieve your soul, take it to heaven. That stuck with me after I heard it. Guess I liked the idea of something coming down and lifting you out of a dark place, even after you think everything is over.”
Arianna’s mind flooded with images of the sea, vast and crushing, a dark place where people had been lost forever. “That is nice.”
“I got them a few months after I started my apprenticeship. Working at Hot Ink – having something I cared about – seemed a lot like being lifted out of a dark place.”
His confession fueled her curiosity. “What did you do before then?”
“Bounced around between a few different construction gigs. Nothing too skilled, because I didn’t know shit about anything. Just the kind of work that makes you feel like you’ve been run over by a truck at the end of the day.”
It was kind of hot to imagine him sweating and hauling around heavy stuff, though she liked the idea of him bent over her with a tattoo machine better. “Not exactly the most fulfilling job, I guess.” Seeing his art displayed permanently on living canvasses had to be more satisfying.
“No. I like it at Hot Ink a lot better – the work, the people. It’s kind of like a family.”
His mention of Hot Ink made her think of her time there – time spent with his hands and eyes on her body. That contact had inspired thoughts of how they lay now – him on his back, muscled body against the sheets, with her straddling his hips. His cock pressed against her from below, the naked flesh hard and hot against her pussy.
“There are condoms in my pocket,” he said, following her gaze, then tipping his head toward his jeans, which lay abandoned beside him. “Put one on me so I can be inside you.” The conversational tone had left his voice, replaced by a scraping note of desire.
She reached for his jeans, found one and opened it. Pinching the tip above the head of his dick, she rolled the rest down his shaft, stopping at the base, her fingertips brushing the captive bead there. The sensation of the steel against her skin was a turn on, even if it was only her hand.
He was inside her a moment later, thrusting up as she sank down. He went deeper than she’d expected, despite the fact that she’d just felt her
way down every inch of his shaft. For a second, she couldn’t breathe.
But her body was made for it, stretching and translating the shock to pleasure. As he rocked into her again, she sighed. This was everything she wanted. Not just the sex, but the closeness – physical and otherwise. There were no secrets between them, and she knew he wouldn’t leave her bed until morning. The satisfaction threatened to overwhelm her, almost as intense as her recent orgasm.
James’ voice called her back to the present, and she blinked away the haze of bliss so she could meet his eyes. “Thought of this, too,” he said. “Just about as soon as I laid eyes on you.”
Everything inside her drew up tight. She’d be a liar if she said she hadn’t imagined something similar when she’d first met him, though at that point she wouldn’t have thought it’d ever become reality. Her reply was a gasp, an involuntary response to the way he thrust hard into her to punctuate his claim.
“Thought of a lot of things, actually. I think it’ll take us damn near a month to try everything I imagined within the first hour of laying hands on you.”
“Sounds promising,” she breathed. “I’m going to hold you to that.” She rocked back against him, seeking the friction of his piercing against her clit.
He sighed, running a hand up her side and cupping one of her breasts. His fingers slipped over her nipple, then drew deliberately back, teasing it to a stiff peak. He slipped his other hand between her thighs and touched her clit, beginning a steady rhythm that drew another climax from her.
It was even better than the first. Although coming against his open mouth was undeniably erotic, nothing compared to having an orgasm while he was inside her. His cock gave her body something to tighten around, something to squeeze. Her head swam as it did just that, his pleasure spiking every time he finished a stroke, reaching a place deep inside her.
When it was over, her thigh muscles ached – fiercely, but not in a bad way. She stopped rocking against him.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her down, so that she lay flat on top of him. Like that, she could feel his heartbeat, the rhythm of his breathing. And then there was the solid presence of him inside her, a firmness in her core that marked each moment with pleasure. When he moved beneath her, simultaneously wrapping a hand in her hair, the moan that rose from deep in her chest was automatic.