Abiding Ink (Inked in the Steel City #4)

by Ranae Rose

“How cold are you when we’re outside?” Tyler asked, eyeing her thick jacket. “Is it uncomfortable for you?”

  Mallory shrugged. “Not really, especially now that I’ve had a hot drink.”

  “Then if you’re not opposed, I know somewhere we can sit down to eat that’s better than the inside of a car.” It was more of a summertime retreat than a December-friendly thing, but he had to work with what he had.

  “Okay.”

  He led her back around the corner, to Hot Ink.

  They didn’t go indoors. Instead, he led her around the side, to where the fire escape stood out dark and just barely snow-coated in the brick building’s shadow. The place was only three stories high – Hot Ink took up the first floor, the second was an apartment Jed had lived in until recently and the third was an unused storage space, so far as he knew. The fire escape led all the way to the top and had a ladder that went to the roof.

  “Careful,” he said. “The metal might be slick from the snow. Here, let me carry the food.”

  They climbed to the top of the escape and he urged her to go up the ladder first, just in case – he’d catch her if she fell. She didn’t even slip, but he watched vigilantly anyway, his gaze glued to her yoga pants. If it’d been daylight out, the sight of her climbing up the side of the building in those probably would’ve stopped traffic.

  “Toss up the food,” she said when she reached the top. “I’ll catch it.”

  He had a sudden vision of the takeout bag landing on the steel grid beneath his feet and exploding in a burst of duck and soy sauce, but he complied.

  She caught it neatly and waited for him to climb up.

  “Good,” he said when he reached the roof. “Jed forgot to take the umbrella down. I was counting on that.” Walking to where a round patio table sat in the middle of the flat roof, he opened the umbrella. It sprang open, shedding snow in a violent flurry that took several minutes to settle. Meanwhile, Tyler dusted a light layer of powder from the table and seats.

  Mallory set the bag down on the tabletop and began unpacking its contents. “Does everyone eat up here during the summer?” she asked, handing him a pair of chopsticks.

  “Having a table up here started as a joke because Jed was always getting on people about eating in the shop. But yeah, it gets used, just not usually while it’s snowing.”

  She took a seat, scooting her chair forward so that it was under the shelter of the umbrella, protected from the snowflakes drifting down from the dark sky. The shop sign’s neon glow didn’t reach the roof, but there was enough streetlight to eat by. “I like it. It’s like sitting inside a snow globe.” She opened a container of chicken and broccoli.

  “It was either this or invite you back to my car for dinner, and I figured that’d be kinda creepy.”

  She laughed.

  He liked the sound. It rang in his ears, even after she went back to eating. They talked a little more about Hot Ink – she didn’t seem as embarrassed, now that her secret was out in the open. He tried not to wonder too much about her new tattoo, but he failed. Miserably. When they finished eating and she dropped her chopsticks back into the bag, tidying up the table, he rose.

  Snowflakes drifted down, settling in her hair when she strayed out from beneath the umbrella’s shelter. Her breath was misty. Hopefully he hadn’t frozen her with his rooftop dining idea. He could still feel the heat she’d leant him back when she’d touched his hand in the café, when they’d walked down the street with fingers entwined.

  He reached for her again, but didn’t settle for holding her hand. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her close, so that nothing could slip between their bodies – not even a snowflake.

  It felt natural, like a reflex. Beneath her thick winter coat, he could feel hints of her shape, but not her body heat. That was all right – he felt it when he slipped a hand behind her head and lowered his mouth to hers.

  Her lips were soft and when they yielded to his, his dick throbbed against his jeans. Slipping his tongue into her mouth, he went deep, liking the way she kissed him back. As the kiss went on, the air gradually disappeared from his lungs, leaving him as breathless as his first look at her in the hospital hallway had. He had to remember to breathe – with desire for her rushing undiluted through his veins, drawing breath no longer seemed like a strictly vital function.

  Other things seemed more important – like getting closer to her. Getting inside her. He hardened some more as she leaned into him, pressing her body more firmly against his. Trapped between them, his cock ached for more than just pressure, for deliberate contact.

  By the time their lips parted, his mind had filled with visions of lifting her onto the table and getting between her thighs – feeling her wrapped around him, somehow, as he explored her mouth.

  Damn cheap patio furniture – it would never hold up to what he had in mind. Damn December and damn the cold.

  Her eyes shone as they met his, and she didn’t pull away from him. If anything, she leaned a little more heavily on him. The added weight and pressure of her body against his was sweet torture. He ached to move against her, to feel some friction against the steel-hard shaft of his cock. Shifting his grip on her, he gave in just a little, rubbing one hand against the curve of her hip and letting the resulting friction warm his palm.

  She sucked in a quick breath, and he felt her flinch the tiniest bit.

  It took a moment for realization to hit him. “Your tattoo.” Focusing now, he felt the telltale texture of bandages beneath her yoga pants. “Sorry.” He shifted his hand higher, touching bare skin at her waist.

  She drew another quick breath, but no flinching this time. No pain.

  “It’s okay. It’s just a little sore. No big deal.”

  He imagined the tattoo machine implanting color into her skin where he’d touched her, at her hip. She was lean enough that he felt the curve of bone, and knew it must’ve hurt. It hurt him to think about, mostly because the idea of tattooing her there – the idea of her being tattooed there – made it feel like his dick was going to burst his jeans zipper.

  Hell, he’d settle for just touching her there again, when it healed. “What colors?” he asked, because he couldn’t help himself. “What color ink?”

  “Purple,” she said. “Black. Purple and black.”

  Her answer sent another bolt of longing straight down his spine, to his groin. He could picture the bold colors against her skin. He didn’t ask about the design. He’d rather see it with his own eyes. If he had to wait a while, he had to wait a while. He was already going to have to go home after this with a set of aching balls. What was a little more torture?

  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and the motion sent his hand sliding a little higher against the flat plane and soft skin of her belly.

  His fingertips tingled like he was touching something electrically charged, and he stroked her skin slowly, reveling in the silky feel of it. Beneath the downy layers of her jacket and sweater, her body was hot, not in the least bit chilled. The lower curve of one breast brushed his knuckles, and she exhaled softly, her breath rushing against his chest, his jacket, in a cloud of vapor.

  He traced the curve with his thumb and fresh lust rushed over him like a bucket of scalding water dumped over his head. The material of her bra was satiny and thin, allowing him to feel her heat radiating through it. When he slid his hand over her breast, cupping the full weight of it, he could feel her nipple pressing hard against his palm.

  It was more temptation than he could bear, and there was no outlet for it. Not on the roof. Not that night. With his cock throbbing with a need that beat in all his major pulse points, too, he withdrew his hand slowly, taking her mouth in another kiss.

  She leaned into him, making the space between their bodies disappear again.

  He was careful not to touch her fresh tattoo as he teased her tongue and she teased him too, eventually rocking back on her heels. When he opened his eyes, snow swirled between her s
wollen lips and his, falling heavier than before.

  “If we stay up here any longer, I think we’re going to end up snowbound on the roof,” she said.

  He brushed the snowflakes from her hair, feeling them melt into her curls. “We’d better get out of here, then. I don’t think I’d survive it.”

  “Are you that cold?” Concern flashed in her eyes, and her half-smile faltered.

  “Not at all. I meant that I think it’d kill me to be stuck up here with you any longer. Too much temptation and no way to give in without getting frostbite on some important body part.” He teased, but he meant it, too.

  Luckily, she laughed. “I don’t want you to lose any body parts.” Her gaze flickered south for half a second, and his dick gave an answering throb. “Come on.”

  He gathered up the remains of their dinner and climbed down the ladder first, giving her a hand when she reached the bottom after him. They descended the fire escape stairs together, and when they reached the bottom, they were back in Hot Ink’s neon glow – back in the real world, with a few other people passing here and there and snow falling thicker than ever.

  “I’ll walk you to your car.” He rested a hand against the small of her back but resisted the urge to wrap his arm around her, not wanting to irritate her freshly-inked skin. “Be careful,” he said when they reached her vehicle. “The streets will be getting slick.”

  “I will. Thanks.” Her gaze lingered on his, and he was impervious to the cold. “I know you have family visiting and people get busy this time of year. So just in case I don’t see you before then…” She took a step forward, breath swirling with pelting snowflakes. “Merry Christmas.” She pressed a kiss against his jaw and he let that be that, because anything more would’ve strained the limits of his self-control.

  “Merry Christmas.” The holiday seemed far away as she climbed into her car, leaving him to withstand the silent night alone, aching as he made his way back to his own car, snowflakes evaporating the instant they hit his overheated skin.

  * * * * *

  The decorations were still up when Mallory got home, but the distinct aura of Christmas cheer generated by all the tinsel and hot chocolate seemed to have faded during her absence… Or maybe she was just imagining things because no amount of glitz or glitter could compare to the rooftop encounter she’d just shared with Tyler.

  Her heart picked up pace as she let the memories slip over her for one hot moment, dispelling the chill she’d brought inside.

  “Mallory.” Her mother waved from where she sat on the couch, facing the TV.

  “Hey mom.” Reluctantly, she stopped reliving his kiss, his touch.

  As she entered the living room, shedding her jacket, it was obvious she wasn’t just imagining things – there was a definite difference between the woman she’d left smiling and chatting with Theo and the woman perched alone on the couch, pretending to pay attention to a commercial. “How’s it going – anything good on?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why watch TV, then? I’m sure I have a book you could borrow if you’d rather read.”

  “Actually, I was waiting for you to get home.”

  A hint of dread tainted Mallory’s consciousness. What had happened – had her father called again, stirred up more hurt feelings?

  Her mother looked away from the TV, meeting Mallory’s gaze directly. “You left me alone with Theo.”

  “Is that a problem? I mean, I had an appointment to keep. Did something happen?” It was hard to imagine Theo offending anyone, let alone her mother.

  Her mother arched a brow, looking uncharacteristically shrewd. “Just me, him and Swiss Miss … I bet you thought it’d be real cozy.”

  A hint of heat crept into Mallory’s cheeks. “I take it he stayed to finish his hot chocolate?”

  “He stayed. And he asked me… He asked me if I was seeing anyone.”

  A spark of satisfaction flared to life inside Mallory despite her mother’s frown. “Why are you so upset? You’re not seeing anyone.”

  “That’s not the point. It was embarrassing. Mallory, you know I’m not looking for a man. How could you try to set me up with Theo?”

  “It never occurred to me to invite him to stay until I saw what a good time you were having talking to him. I thought it’d be nice to have some company for once, and he’s such a nice guy. I didn’t want to rush him out just because I had to leave. I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

  Her mother’s frown flickered, betraying conflicting emotions. “I’m not looking for anyone. I—”

  “I know you’re not looking mom. But that doesn’t mean you won’t cross paths with anyone who’s interested. For the record, I think Theo is great. What did you tell him?”

  “What do you think? I told him I wasn’t interested in seeing anyone.”

  “So you’re not even going to consider giving him a chance?” Mallory was already imagining her mother getting out of the house more, maybe going on a date, having some fun with a nice guy like Theo. It seemed like the perfect opportunity for her to forget about the past and live a little … and instead of seeing it that way, all her mother was doing was glaring across the living room like Mallory had betrayed her.

  “I’m done taking chances. Besides, he’s divorced.” She said it like it was a crime.

  “So are you, mom.”

  Her mother’s frown deepened. “I never wanted to be. Not really.”

  Mallory’s heart softened as she eyed the lines around her mother’s mouth, and so did her voice. “I know. Maybe he didn’t want to be, either. People get divorced for all sorts of different reasons. Just because he’s been married before doesn’t mean he did something terrible to end the relationship.” She knew her mother was thinking of her father, but she wouldn’t let her project those doubts onto Theo. Not if she could help it.

  Her mother sighed. “Maybe not. But does it matter? I was looking for a sale on toaster ovens when I went out today, not a date. I was wearing this ratty old Christmas sweater and God knows I’m twenty pounds heavier than I was before.”

  She didn’t need to define “before”. Mallory knew better than anyone that her mother bisected her life into two distinct time periods: before the divorce and after. Even now, eight years after the fact. She divvied up her existence into then and now, black and white – happy and unhappy. And she just wouldn’t stop.

  Mallory narrowly repressed a sigh. Her mother had always been a family woman – her three kids and her marriage had been her life. When she’d discovered her husband’s affair, she’d been devastated. And Mallory didn’t – couldn’t – blame her. Not at all. But God, she couldn’t stand to see her mother stagnate, refusing to let herself enjoy life, even now.

  “Theo obviously likes you the way you are, mom. You never know – you might like him too if you gave him a chance.”

  Her mother brushed off the comment, and Mallory hugged her anyway. “I have work in the morning. Goodnight.”

  In the privacy of her bedroom, she finally breathed a sigh. She knew her mother better than anyone, but even so, she got a sick feeling that she was only beginning to realize how damaged she’d been by the betrayal and divorce. It seemed like the effects of love gone wrong really could last a lifetime.

  It was a scary thought, especially since Mallory could remember a time when her mother had been happy – when her parents had seemed happy together. Surely there’d been a time when they’d felt the rush of irresistible attraction, when they hadn’t wanted anybody but each other.

  Just like she couldn’t imagine herself wanting anybody but Tyler even though she knew she was being pulled in way too fast. Less than two weeks ago, all she’d wanted was a date to a party. He’d been sexy, tempting and available… And now he was all those things and more. There was no denying it: she craved him. She looked forward to seeing him again in ways she hadn’t even imagined a couple weeks ago.

  Did relationships always start out like this, even if they were doomed? And i
f so … how was anyone supposed to tell the difference between future happiness and heartbreak?

  CHAPTER 7

  “C’mon. Just say we’re going out together – you know, brotherly bonding and all that.” Dustin implored Tyler with round, blue eyes.

  “No way.” Tyler pulled on his jacket, already glancing toward the door. Even Dustin’s whining couldn’t put a damper on his mood. In a few minutes, he’d be on his way to see Mallory – it was the day before Christmas Eve, and they both were free.

  Dustin breathed a long sigh, mumbling something under his breath. “You know, you really suck at upholding the code. It’s like you don’t even care.”

  “I don’t care. Listen, you’ve spent less than two hours with mom and dad since you got to Pittsburgh. Don’t be an ungrateful shit. They’re paying for half your tuition and you know they’re working their asses off to make it happen. The least you can do is hang out with them when you’re in town.” Tyler shot Dustin a stabbing glare, vaguely surprised by how pissed off he was.

  Yeah, Tyler’s education was a bit of a sore spot for him. It wasn’t that he begrudged his little brother the opportunity to go to college; it was just that he hated to see him so ungrateful for it.

  Tyler hadn’t gone to college at all. Instead he’d apprenticed to his uncle, learning to tattoo. And Kassie had chosen to start out at a community college, which cost pennies compared to Dustin’s out-of-state tuition. For their parents – a warehouse foreman and a receptionist – the cost of Dustin’s education was a big deal.

  And while Dustin’s grades were okay, they weren’t amazing – no surprise there, considering the amount of time he spent partying.

  “More like a third of my tuition,” Dustin grumbled. “I’m up to my neck in student loans, for the record.”

  “Guess you should’ve gone somewhere in-state, then.”

  Dustin rolled his eyes. “You sound just like dad. Fine, I’ll go over to their place. Might as well if you’re going to act just like them.”