Beneath This Ink (Page 52)

“Not particularly.” That was the least of my worries tonight.

“Then go upstairs. I think you know the way. I’ll be up when I get there.”

“That’s it. That’s all you’re going to say?”

He gestured with his latex-clad hands. “I’ll have more to say when I get there.”

I huffed out an expletive, and a smile ghosted over Con’s features. “Got a feeling I’ll have a wildcat on my hands if you’re this worked up already.”

I didn’t deign to reply. I spun on my heel and grabbed the handle of the first door to the right and yanked it open. Con’s laughter followed me up the stairs even after I slammed it behind me.

Men.

I might’ve expected a wildcat, but what I found when I finally made it up to my place an hour and a half later was closer to a kitten.

Curled up in the center of my bed, Vanessa was dead to the world.

I shook my head at the turn of phrase. After last night, it was too real a possibility—one too narrowly avoided—to consider.

The whisper of her even breathing was the only sound from inside my apartment. Outside, the noises of the city faded away, because my only focus was on her. I’d walked up the stairs expecting to fuck her senseless, but now all I wanted to do was sit and watch her sleep.

And yeah, I knew that was fucking creepy.

The entire rest of my session, one where I’d finished a portrait of a man’s dead wife on his arm, I’d thought about her words.

None of this makes any sense. I shouldn’t be here. But there’s nowhere else I wanted to be.

What the hell did that mean for us?

When she’d stepped back into my life, I’d seized the moment. I’d carpe’d the fucking diem. I’d gone after the opportunity that had slipped away from me and put the mystery to rest. And now? I wasn’t sure where to go next.

My life didn’t allow for complications. I wasn’t going to drag her down into the darkness where I’d spent the last few years.

A darkness that was growing.

Because now I wanted to track down the fucker who’d pulled a gun on my woman and shot at her. What was one more to add to my prospective body count? Hennessy could read me all too well, because when he’d stopped in here today to give me an update on Trey, he’d asked what my plans were. The update, while appreciated, was one I didn’t really need because I’d already been to the hospital and gotten one myself just as soon as I’d dropped Vanessa off a couple blocks from home. I’d continued to call the hospital on the hour to see if there was any change in his condition. And Hennessy’s question about my plans? I’d punted on that one. Said the right things. Hell, I might’ve even said, I’ll let the law handle that one. I’m sure Hennessy knew I was full of shit.

But what could the man really do about it? Not a damn thing.

Back to the sleeping woman in my bed. I tried not to read too much into the fact that she wasn’t sleeping on my couch. For some reason, the fact that she was in my bed seemed so much more personal. So much…just more.

That is such a chick thought. I shrugged it off and stripped out of my clothes. A quick shower, and I was crawling into bed beside her. Two nights with her in my arms was a bad idea. It was the kind of thing I could get used to, and then once I handed over that deed, she’d be gone, and I’d be back to my one night, hit-it-and-quit-it lifestyle.

It sounded so unappetizing when compared to this warm, gorgeous woman in my bed.

But was there really any alternative? Realistically, this was going nowhere. I’d asked her for my shot. And I’d gotten it. I hadn’t thought beyond that. Didn’t have a plan.

I thought of the deed I’d had my lawyer draft the day after the Boys and Girls Club dinner. It was practically burning a hole in the drawer of my desk in the break room.

A better man would…

“Con?” A sleepy voice cut into my thoughts as Vanessa rolled to face me. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

The question was so goddamn domestic, like something a wife would ask her husband when he came home after a late night out and she couldn’t quite stay up until he got in. I squeezed my eyes shut for a beat. Just one more thing I liked too much.

“I think I did just wake you, babe.”

She snuggled in to my chest, still half asleep. “You smell good.”

“That’s what happens when you shower.”

“Mmmmm.” She pressed a kiss between my pecs, and her clever little tongue reached out to flick my nipple.

“Whoa, honey. What’re you doin’?”

Her voice husky with sleep, she said, “What does it look like?” Her sharp little teeth caught my nipple and tugged.

“You need to sleep.”

A small hand connected with my shoulder, shoving me to my back. “Don’t tell me what I need. Too many people tell me what I need. No one ever asks me what I want.”

I laced my hands behind my head and nodded down to my body. “Then take what you want. What you need. Only a stupid man would stop you.”

She didn’t look at me when she asked, “And you’re not a stupid man?”

“Not tonight I’m not. Tomorrow could be a different story.” And it could be. Because tomorrow I was due to make some decisions. Figure out exactly where this thing was going—and when I was going to end it. But for tonight, I’d take pleasure in being what she needed.

“At least you’re honest.”

Not hardly.

Vanessa made quick work of peeling off her dress, and the bra and underwear beneath it. Caught up in her creamy, unmarked skin, my fingers ached to reach up and cover her breasts. But I kept them where they were, eager to see how she’d take the reins.