MidnightInk-epub

by MI

  Etta sat down on the bed and looked at her hands. “I’m sorry, Christie. The last time we… Well, I knew as soon as I said it I was in the wrong. I just didn’t know how to take it back.”

  “I didn’t come here for your apology.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “No, but I can’t say it isn’t nice to hear.” Christie set down his guitar, leaning it against the wall. “I came here to tell you I thought about what you said. About finishing projects and broken things. About everything.”

  He cupped the back of his neck with his hand, and she could see the tension in the cords of his neck. She’d done that to him.

  “You know I’ve spent practically all of my adult life staying in hotels. When I got home I wanted something that felt real. That I could make my own. The fact that the car needed work, that the pipes in the house make strange noises in the morning? I liked it. Enough that I wasn’t in a hurry to change it.”

  She opened her mouth to speak but Christie held up his hand. “I wasn’t in a hurry to change anything for a long time. The mattress on the floor, the few boxes I have that are only half unpacked after so long. And as far as the shop goes, either Rosie or Sassy has to hogtie me to get me to deal with the paperwork. To actually spend any time in the office.”

  There was no humor in his laughter. “From the outside, I look like a man who doesn’t want to settle down. Or doesn’t know how to. A woman would be a fool not to at least wonder if a man like that would stick. If his feelings would last. Especially when he isn’t taking care of the things that are his.”

  She inhaled in surprise when Christie dropped to his knees in front of her and laid his hands on her thighs. “I don’t think you need to be fixed, baby. I know this thing between us was moving too fast, but I can wait as long as you need. I think I’ve been waiting for you since I moved back home. And I know that sounds—”

  “Perfect,” Etta interrupted, reaching up to caress his scratchy jaw with her fingertips. God, he was fearless with his heart. It made her want to be the same. “Christie, it sounds like a perfect dream. But you don’t know everything about me. You said you knew I’d been hurt, and you’re right. I was. I had to marry a man who didn’t love me, and then lose a child …” She broke off. “And it took me longer than I’m proud to admit to get out. Too long, it turned out.”

  “Oh, baby.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m not telling you to excuse the way I reacted. You told me you loved me and instead of listening to you, I lashed out. I just wanted you to understand that it was me. My baggage. I’m not perfect. I’m never going to be.”

  “No one is.” His hand covered hers to hold it there. “God knows I have my faults. But the way I feel about you isn’t one of them. I know everything I need to know, Etta. I know how passionate you are. How funny and kind. I know that every time I look into your eyes, I feel like I’ve come home. I know I love you.”

  Let love in…

  Trust him…

  Theresa and Manny’s advice flooded back to her and the wall that had been cracking since she met him crumbled completely. She let herself believe him. Let herself trust in what she felt. He’d been brave enough to open himself up to her again and again. It was her turn. “I…I love you, Christie. I do. And I think I’ve been waiting for you, too.”

  Since I was thirteen…or all of my life.

  Christie leaned back on his heels. “For clarity’s sake, can I ask you to repeat that?”

  Etta grinned, remembering the first time he’d said that. “Was I supposed to refuse? Is this another Midnight Ink tradition no one told me about?”

  Christie’s smile made her heart skip and her body heat. “Absolutely not. That was the correct answer. Just had to make sure.”

  She bit her lip. “You talked about how we were going to make the distance work. I would stay here if I could, but I still have six months to complete my residency and you have a shop to run.”

  “We’ll make it work. And when you’re done, we’ll turn that house into a home. Our home.”

  She really loved the sound of that.

  He placed his hands on either side of her hips, leaning forward to kiss her when she stopped him. “Christie?”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “Why did you bring your guitar?”

  He pressed his forehead against hers and laughed. “Because, sweet Etta, this is an emergency. It has been pointed out to me that I’m a sucker. A lovesick fool for you, and I’ve decided to make no apologies for it. If no one let me in, I was going to stand outside your window and play until you opened the door. And there’s something else you didn’t know about me. You love a hopeless fucking romantic.”

  She knew. She was counting on it. “What song?”

  He sighed, eyeing her with need, frustration and joy mingling in his gaze. “You’re going to make me do it, aren’t you? Make me play your song before I get my kiss.”

  Her song? “Not the whole thing. Just a few bars and maybe a chorus? I wouldn’t want to spoil your romantic plans.” She lowered her voice. “And I can promise more than a kiss.”

  He leaned over and grabbed his guitar, setting it on his bent legs. “I’ll have to hold you to that.”

  Those talented fingers that had brought her so much pleasure began strumming out a melody that Etta knew she would never forget, and when he started singing, tears filled her eyes.

  You know this, well this ain’t the first time that I met her

  She was just thirteen when she stole my favorite sweater

  In a hurry for fame, leaving home behind

  It was all I could see, all that was on my mind

  Saw her again as another year departed

  After all this time I came back to where it started

  Searching for my soul in New Orleans

  Looked into her eyes

  and then I, found another dream

  Oh,

  Henrietta

  Doesn’t believe when I say I could never forget her

  Stole my heart with one kiss and I just let her

  With her beside me the world is brighter—

  And baby it’ll only get better

  If you just let me love you Henrietta

  Etta leaned forward, holding his head in her hands and kissing him through her tears. She didn’t need to hear more as much as she needed to kiss him. This man. This impossible man who was everything she’d ever wanted and more.

  Her first crush had turned into a love she’d never expected. A love she hadn’t believed she would ever find.

  She lifted her mouth off his and looked into his eyes. “I didn’t steal your stupid sweater.”

  “It’s going to take a lot more than that to convince me.” Christie tossed his guitar carelessly to the side and climbed onto the bed with her, dragging her with him until they were both lying across the mattress.

  He kissed her again. “Damn, I’ve missed those lips.”

  Etta pulled his head back down with one hand, reaching between their bodies with the other to unbutton his jeans with impatient fingers. She’d missed him, too. Too much to wait.

  They tore at each other’s clothes until there was nothing between them but the condom she helped him slide down his thick erection. She wrapped her legs around his waist and lifted her hips, desperate for him.

  His mouth was on her breast when he shook his head. “Baby, not so fast. It’s been days since I’ve touched you. Forever since I’ve made you come with my tongue.”

  She moaned and shook her head. “Next time,” she pleaded. “I need you, Christie. Fuck me.”

  He growled. “You know I can’t resist those words coming from that lush, sexy mouth. But you’ll have to be quiet again, sweet angel. You have a family party going on downstairs and you wouldn’t want them to know what a wild thing you are, or how good I am at making you come. You’re already close.”

  She moaned with his first, deep thrust. God, he was good. “I hear Bone Daddy is down there. If we blame hi
m, no one will be surprised if I shout myself hoarse and they don’t see us until morning.”

  “Thank you, Bone Daddy,” he rasped, and the wicked sensuality darkening his blue eyes made her shiver. “Because it will take me at least that long to show you how much I’ve missed you.”

  A few minutes later Etta was groaning in pleasure as he filled her and laughing breathlessly at the same time. The bed was creaking. Obnoxiously and consistently with every sling of Christie’s hips. “Oh my God.”

  Christie was growling again. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the bed, kneeling on the throw rug that covered the hardwood floor. “My mattress may be on the floor, but at least it’s quiet,” he grumbled. “Oh fuck, Etta. Do you feel that?”

  She did. She could feel everything. She loved this position. They were wrapped around each other, close enough to kiss and look into each other’s eyes while his cock was sunk hilt-deep inside her.

  Heaven.

  He gripped her hair, wrapped his other arm around her waist and bit her chin. “Ride me, baby.”

  She used her hands on his shoulders for balance as she rocked against him, remembering the first time they’d been together in his office. How much she’d loved the out-of-control ride. How it had been better than the dream.

  This…this was even better.

  She could feel desire rising inside her, filling every cell in her body as she rolled her hips slowly, squeezing the muscles of her sex around him until he shouted her name.

  “Jesus, baby. Fuck, Etta, you’re going to kill me.”

  “No,” she gasped. “I’m going to love you.”

  She pushed his chest until he stretched out his legs and lay back on the floor. And then she really started to ride.

  Her back bowed and her hands clenched on his strong chest. With her legs bent on either side of him, she used the muscles in her thighs and set a hard, delicious pace that had the both moaning in pleasure.

  “That’s it, baby. Faster. Don’t stop.”

  “Christie. Oh God it feels…”

  “I know. I know, you’re fucking me so good, baby. It’s so good.”

  Christie’s grip tightened as she rode toward her destination, desperate to get there. She was so close. So close to going over the edge.

  He moaned and slid one of his fingers between her cheeks, pressing inside. The shock made her body shudder and her eyes widen as she looked down into his face. They’d never done anything that kinky before. She’d never thought…

  But just that touch set fireworks off in her head.

  His smile was tight. “There’s still a lot to teach you, sweet Henrietta. You’ll find out. I promise you’ll like it.”

  The idea of it, the image he’d just put in her mind… She was coming, her back arching as she cried out. He joined her, his hips lifting off the floor as his climax rocked his tall, lean frame.

  Long, gasping moments later, Etta collapsed against him, her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it started to slow. “Say it again?”

  He wrapped his arms around her. “I love you, Etta.

  She smiled. “I love you, too, but that’s not what I meant.”

  “Good morning, my sweet Henrietta?”

  “That’s the one.”

  She could hear the laughter in his voice. “It isn’t morning.”

  “I could have sworn it was.” As if a part of her that had been lost had just woken up to a new day. A new life. One she would never have dared to imagine for herself.

  “Get used to hearing those words.” He brushed her curls back with his hand. “I plan on saying them every day for the rest of my life. Do you know what I’m hoping you’ll be saying in reply?”

  “Good morning, honey, I made you a pecan pie?”

  He huffed out a laugh and rolled with her in his arms until she was on her back looking up at him. He grinned. “Let’s do it again.”

  ***

  Emmanuel was standing in the middle of the street looking up at the now nearly empty house, all the lights dark except for one on the second floor.

  After Etta and Christie disappeared upstairs, the people gathered in the living room had all started talking at once. What was the lead singer from Midnight Ryder doing in the house? Why had Rousseau’s cousin seen Emmanuel? What did it mean?

  Celestin had preened a bit, the giant café owner claiming he’d known it all along. That he’d been planning on introducing them before Etta left New Orleans.

  The others had taken it in stride and helped Theresa calm down, assuring her Emmanuel’s presence wasn’t a bad thing, even though the last time she saw him her daughter, Angelique, had been in danger. In fact, they mused, it might mean Etta would be moving home sooner rather than later. They’d find out soon enough, they told her, but it wouldn’t be tonight.

  It was a remarkably calm gathering, all things considered. But then, they’d all seen far stranger things, and every one of them knew what it was like to fall in love.

  The Mamas had decided to take the slightly confused but hopeful Theresa home with them for an “old woman slumber and plotting party” and Rousseau’s mother had agreed. After the woman left her own house, the others quickly followed, leaving Etta and Christie alone for the night.

  He turned away from the window when he heard whistling. The old man was taking his time, swinging his cane in time to the tune and strolling toward him.

  Emmanuel sighed. “Are we going to get the ‘I told you so’ over with already?”

  The man laughed and smoothed his beard as he stopped beside him. “The wise sage versus the harmless friend approach? That ‘I told you so’? That’ll keep. Why don’t you tell me how it went?”

  “Well…” Emmanuel shoved his hands into the pocket of his coat. “They appear to be doing fine. In fact, they’ve only come up for air twice in the last five hours. Once to get something to eat from the spread downstairs, and once when she convinced him to play that song for her again.”

  She’d also told Christie about Emmanuel. About her dream. The look on his face had been oddly satisfying when he realized how much it sounded like his.

  “I do enjoy that man’s music. He may not have the gifts the others do, but he has soul. And that soul belongs here. Now that he’s home to stay and she’ll be sure to follow, we can celebrate the win.”

  “Yes.” Emmanuel was happy for them, but he’d hated asking for Legba’s help almost as much as he hated needing it. He’d come through, though. Known just what to say to help Christie admit his feelings to Henrietta.

  Emmanuel had learned that he hated jogging and he needed a lot more practice when it came to talking to women. But he would have to figure it out as he went, because he still had a few loose ends. A few people he had promised himself he’d sort out before he dealt with what was finally coming for him.

  The hand on his shoulder startled him. “You don’t have to do it alone. I don’t know why you came back from the crossroads, or how, but I want to help.”

  “Why?”

  Papa Legba smiled. “I’ve heard I’m getting more eccentric in my old age.”

  Emmanuel shook his head, but he had to admit he was relieved. He was coming to a new crossroads, and there was no one better to have on his side.

  He glanced up at the window once more, hearing the familiar sound of Christie’s guitar drifting down to the street. “She wants to hear it again?”

  Legba bent over with the force of his laughter.

  “Ain’t love grand?”

  About R.G. Alexander

  R.G. Alexander (aka Rachel Grace) is a bestselling author who has written over 20+ books in the erotic paranormal, contemporary and sci-fi/fantasy genres for multiple e-publishers and Berkley Heat.

  She has lived all over the United States, studied archaeology and mythology, been a nurse and a vocalist, and now? A writer who dreams of vampires, witches and airship battles, and feels lucky every day that she gets to share her stories with her readers. She is happil
y married to a talented chef who is her best friend, her research assistant, and the love of her life.

  To Contact R. G. Alexander:

  www.RGAlexander.com

  www.Smutketeers.com

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  Dangerously Inked

  Copyright 2013 Eden Bradley

  Cover Art by Scott Carpenter

  Edited by D.S. Editing

  Dangerously Inked

  Eden Bradley

  Dedication

  As always, to my dear fellow Smutketeers, R.G. Alexander and Robin L. Rotham, without whom I could never survive. Also, to my beta reader and friend, Dawn, who always comes through for me in a panicked pinch. To the amazing, magical city of New Orleans, for endless inspiration. And lastly to my puppy Voodoo, who provided comic relief when I was about to tear my hair out, as well as many cuddly naps in my lap. Love you all!

  Chapter One

  So this was The Bastille, New Orleans’ most infamous dungeon. Finn took a quick inventory of the small reception area. He’d never have guessed what the nondescript warehouse among a row of warehouses on Magazine Street hid inside. Even this small chamber was luxurious, done in a purely Bohemian style: red velvet drapes and Moroccan lamps surrounded an enormous, carved desk, two small settees covered in gold brocade were piled with embroidered pillows, and the air was sweet with incense, as exotic as the city itself. This place promised to be everything he’d heard it would be. Even as he showed his ID and paid his fee he could sense the anticipation on the other side of the door that led to into the dungeon, could feel the low beat of music reverberate through the old wood floor.

  He felt at home right away.