Beloved Ink Page 6
Heart-stopping because he looked so genuinely happy to see her that it made her do a double-take. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked at her like that, let alone somebody with his chiseled body, deep, dark eyes and shadowed jaw.
“You didn’t.” She stood, sparing a glance at the man who’d shared the bench with her.
For a second, he looked like a kid whose ice cream cone had just fallen on the sidewalk. Then he stood, shook his head and nodded at Hannah. “See you later.”
He was out the door before she could reply.
“Was he bothering you?” Ben asked as they made their way toward the exit.
“What makes you think he was bothering me?”
“He’s a regular here. And he’s one of those guys who’s always making excuses to talk to female members.”
“He didn’t say or do anything inappropriate. Just talked a lot.”
“Well, let me know if he ever does.”
She arched a brow as they crossed the parking lot. “What would you do – beat him up for me?”
“Of course I would.”
“Oh, really?”
“Uh-huh. Haven’t you seen any movies? Kicking the ass of a guy creeping on a girl is a surefire way to get the girl for yourself. I’m a little disappointed that he didn’t say anything out of line. But hope springs eternal…”
Her toe caught on the asphalt, and she took an awkward step as she fought to ignore the ridiculous surge of butterflies that’d just flooded her empty stomach. In that moment, she felt about as mature as a twelve year old.
“I’d like to think I could defend myself,” she said. “I wouldn’t want you to get in a fight and get kicked out of the gym.”
“Please – fighting indoors is for amateurs. I’d challenge him to a showdown in the alley out back. Obviously.”
They stopped where their cars were parked, just a few spaces apart.
“I’ll meet you in the lot on Smallman?” she asked.
“See you there.”
She didn’t question herself this time as she climbed into her car and drove, just enjoyed the sense of happiness that’d superseded her doubts.
* * * * *
A line that stretched to hell and back wound outside the doors of the Primanti Bros. restaurant in the Strip District.
“Damn,” Ben said with a glance at Hannah. She looked stunning, as usual, especially with a post-workout glow. “Looks like everyone had the same idea we did.”
“No kidding.” Hannah stared at the line and crossed her arms beneath her breasts.
“Cold?” She’d gotten a coat, though she stood with her shoulders rounded, as if the chill was bothering her.
“It’s a little chilly, don’t you think?”
“No, but I’m hot-blooded. Always have been. We don’t have to wait outside to eat here.”
“Is there somewhere else you want to go?”
“We can find a place. Come on.” They started walking.
They passed another sandwich shop, then a bakery and a coffee house that was closed for the night. Half a block later, the rich scent of frying steak hit them like a ton of bricks.
“Wow, some place smells good,” Hannah said.
Ben’s stomach felt hollow and pinched, the aroma was so appetizing.
“You think that’s it up there?” He nodded toward an awning strung with tiny white lights. There were a few outdoor tables, but they were empty. As they drew closer, it became obvious that the restaurant’s doors were open, spilling light and scents out onto the sidewalk.
Music drifted out too, some sort of jazz. It sounded like it might be live.
“I think so.”
They stopped on the sidewalk, just a few yards from the doors. The lettering on the awning identified the place as a steakhouse and wine bar. Ben had never noticed it before.
“Want to have dinner here?”
“I don’t know… It looks kind of upscale.” Hannah looked down. “I’m wearing jeans.”
“So am I. I don’t think it’s too fancy for jeans, though – we’ll be fine.” Most of the surrounding restaurants were inexpensive; surely this one wasn’t too classy for casual clothes.
“Are you sure? It looks so romantic. There’s music, and the lights…”
She had a point about it looking romantic.
“You look great.” Was she hesitating because she was worried about her clothing or because of the romantic atmosphere?
She met his eyes, saying nothing.
He didn’t feel the evening’s chill at all. A deep, burning heat spread through his chest and he couldn’t look away. If it was romantic, fine. He’d take it and run with it.
“You look great. Let me take you to dinner.”
Jazz music drifted from inside, softening the dull noise of strangers’ conversations passing them by on the sidewalk.
“Okay.” She unfolded her arms from across her chest, and they turned toward the door together.
It was warm inside, almost hot. At least, to him it was. Hannah seemed comfortable. She walked with grace, her arms relaxed at her sides as a hostess seated them at a table against the far wall.
The lighting was dim. Moody. Romantic. Whatever you wanted to call it, it made things seem more private than they actually were. Sitting across from Hannah, he felt more alone with her than he ever had.
Given her hesitancy toward romance, he could see why she’d debated over whether to come inside.
But she had, and she didn’t seem uncomfortable now. In fact, she flashed him a smile before picking up her menu.
“I think I want whatever it is we could smell out on the sidewalk.” She scanned the menu. “Although everything sounds tempting…”
“I see what you mean.” The menu did look good – all of it. Except for the chicken. Ben got so sick of eating chicken at home that he never ordered it when he went out. “I’m so hungry I could eat anything. Do you want to share an appetizer?”
“Definitely.”
He placed the order as soon as their waiter appeared. By the time it arrived they’d chosen entrees, too.
“Can I get you anything else?” their server asked after delivering their meals.
“Actually, yes,” Hannah said. “Could I get a glass of your house red to go with this?”
“Of course.” He turned to Ben. “Would you like anything?”
“No, thank you.” Ben had ice water, and he was sticking to it.
“Sorry if I put you on the spot,” Hannah said after the waiter left. “I didn’t mean to be rude – I thought you might want a beer or something.”
“Not rude at all. I just don’t drink.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. I’m not twenty-one yet, so…” He shrugged.
She froze, her gaze snapping to his face. “Wait! You’re kidding, right?”
He couldn’t fight the grin that spread across his face.
“Oh my God.” She bowed her head, laughing. “You scared me for a second.”
“Why?” He looked right at her and arched a brow. “Thinking of robbing the cradle, were you?”
She scowled, though he could see she was biting her inner lip to keep from laughing. “How old are you really?”
“Twenty-five.”
“And that’s your real age – not a joke?”
“Not a joke. How old did you think I was?”
She shrugged. “I could tell you were in your twenties, but you’re hard to narrow down. Your skin is so smooth, but you always seem to have stubble and that makes you look older… I guess I figured you were a little closer to my age.”
“Which is?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Ah, an older woman after all.”
Her scowl returned, and her eyes glittered in a way that said she was laughing inside… Either that, or that she wanted to throw her steak knife at him.
The waiter appeared, saving Ben by lowering a glass of ruby red wine onto the table in front of Hannah.
“Anything else?”
“No, thank you.” She picked up her glass and took a long sip.
“I hope you don’t mind that I’m drinking in front of you,” she said when the server was gone. “I feel like I’m being rude.”
“I don’t mind at all – order whatever you want.”
It was mostly true. He’d enjoyed the occasional drink or three or four in the past, and it grated that he had to be so stringent now. It made him feel like he was being uptight, and there were days when he longed to sit down and unwind, forget about the things he couldn’t get away from without some sort of chemical aid.
But he had a sick treasure trove of memories – the worst of his life – to keep him on the straight and narrow. The idea of drinking scared the shit out of him.
He never wanted to wake up in jail again. Never wanted to have to be told what he’d done because his memory was a gaping black hole. Never wanted to slip back into his own mind and feel like someone new – someone he didn’t like, who couldn’t go back…
But he didn’t mind watching Hannah with her wine. Her fingers looked delicate against the glass’ wide curve and the red liquid lapped at her lips, reminding him of the lipstick she’d been wearing the first time he’d met her.
“I’m hoping this’ll take the edge off the burn from the gym,” she said, raising her glass. “Leg day kicked my ass.”
“Hate to tell you, but alcohol might just make that worse.”
She lowered her eyes so that her dark lashes touched the tender skin beneath. She wore no make-up, and her hair streamed loose over her shoulders, visibly glossy even in the low lighting.
She was almost too pretty to be real.
“You’re probably right.” She took another sip anyway. “I guess I have a ways to go before I’m a real fitness enthusiast.”
“Not like I’m in any position to judge, with my diet. You have to indulge every now and then.”
“Easy for you to say, when you look so perfect.”
He tried to hold back a grin, but it didn’t work.
She pressed her glass against her lips and looked away.
“Thanks.”
She nodded, resting an elbow on the table.
“You know, I think the reason I’m able to get away with my junk food habit is my youth. What with being under twenty-one, my metabolism is in its prime…”
That made her laugh, and she relaxed against the table, leaning toward him.
He noticed that, just like he noticed when her cheeks got pink and her gaze drifted down, away from his face, but not his body.
He was halfway hard under the table. The way she looked at him kept him that way throughout the meal, until they were done and the check had been delivered.
When Ben opened the folder, there was only one bill.
Hannah frowned. “He should’ve asked whether we wanted to be billed separately. I’ll ask him to split it up for us as soon as he comes back.”
Ben slipped his bank card into the plastic pocket. “I’ve got it.”
“You don’t have to—”
“You agreed to let me take you to dinner, so I’m paying. I intended to from the beginning. It’s not a big deal.”
She looked at him like it was.
“Thank you,” she eventually said, her gaze lingering on his, then dipping down to the tabletop.
Her wine glass was empty. She’d only had one drink. Now, she looked like she would’ve reached for the glass, had it been full.
He would’ve liked to reach for her, but he held back, resisting the urge to touch her hand or the small of her back as they left the restaurant together.
“That was really nice,” she said as they walked down the street, toward the lot where they’d parked. It was dark, and her breath fogged the air when she spoke.
“Yeah, it was.”
“Aren’t you freezing?” She reached out and touched his arm. Just brushed it with her fingertips, but the sensation shot through him like electricity, heating his entire body and leaving him feeling faintly stunned.
Stunned, and then charged with energy. It was the first time she’d touched him since she’d pressed money into his hand back at Hot Ink. It felt like she’d just flattened an invisible barrier that’d divided them, unleashing raw energy that crackled in the little bit of air between them.
CHAPTER 7
“No,” Ben said. “I’m warm.”
It was finally cold enough that he felt the chill, but there was a fire smoldering beneath his breastbone, and that kept him from feeling the worst of it. He could stand the walk back to the parking lot just fine.
“I can’t believe that.”
“You’re just not used to the climate here. Besides, I told you I’m—”
“Hot blooded,” Hannah said, brushing his arm again. “You’re not even cold to the touch. It’s crazy.”
Hot or not, a shiver slid slow and easy down his spine. She was flirting with him, no doubt about it. And he couldn’t blame it on the wine – she’d only had one glass, an hour ago.
He thought of the way she’d looked at him back in the restaurant, and it clashed with the memory of what she’d said at Hot Ink. Just days ago she’d said she didn’t want to date…
Had she changed her mind? Maybe he’d misread things; maybe she’d said that just to get him to leave her alone. Maybe she was open to the idea, now that she knew him better.
The idea almost seemed too good to be true. He turned it over in his mind, looking for holes in the logic.
“Thanks for having dinner with me,” he said when they reached the lot where they’d parked their cars side-by-side.
She turned to face him, her gaze locking with his. “Thanks for taking me.”
She didn’t go to her car. Just stood there, looking at him. Her face was smooth, but there was an intense look in her eyes. Like she wanted something.
His arm still tingled where she’d touched him for no reason at all, twice. He leaned down and kissed her before he could second-guess himself.
Her lips were warm and still tasted like wine. The flavor intensified when she opened her mouth and let him in.
Satisfaction hit him hard and his lust spiked, tearing through him and exposing the viscera of his desire. Kissing her deeply, he buried a hand in the hair he’d been wanting to touch for so long and pressed the other against the small of her back.
She melted against him like she’d been expecting it.
The feel of her body against the front of his was exquisite. He relished it all: her breasts against his chest, soft and pressing, and her hip against his thigh, rounded and promising. Most of all, her belly against his hard cock.
She had to feel it, but she made no move to pull away.
Excitement pooled hot at the base of his spine as she ran her tongue along the length of his, her hands settling on his sides and her fingertips pressing against his ribs. Digging in.
All the fantasies he’d entertained over the past few days came rushing in: her running on the treadmill, breasts bouncing, her wearing nothing but her tattoos, her wearing that red lipstick and leaving traces of it on his body, around the base of his dick…
He pulled her tighter against him, kissed her harder.
And then they pulled apart.
Her gaze locked with his, and her lips remained cracked. They were swollen from being pressed against his, and he filed that image away, knowing he’d think of it later.
“You said you weren’t interested in dating.” He was eager to have any doubts and misunderstandings out of the way so he could give in wholly to his desires without guilt. “But you seemed pretty interested in that.”
Her face was pink. She blinked, her hands still resting on his sides.
He no longer had a hand in her hair, but he kept one on her hip, not wanting to let go.
“I don’t think I’m ready for a serious relationship,” she said, “but a physical one… That might be a different story. If it was with you.”
She just wanted sex?
His dick twitched at the thought, but the euphoria sparked by their kiss was undercut by something else. Something he didn’t like.
“What do you think? Would you like to give that a try?”
He tasted blood and realized he’d sunken an eyetooth into his inner lip. Sex with no strings attached, with someone as stunningly sexy as Hannah... What an offer.
His balls ached at the thought of doing anything other than blindly following her lead, seizing the free pass she’d just flashed at him. Except…
Except part of what made him so hard for her was the thought of those strings – anything that might tie her to him. He wanted her. Not her body for an hour or two, or even a night.
There’d been times lately when life had seemed truly meaningless to him. He wasn’t up for anything that echoed that sentiment. He wanted what he did to matter, to be something he could revel in, not try to forget about afterward.
He tore his gaze from her swollen lips, meeting her eyes instead. “I don’t think I can do that. And I won’t lie to you.”
He heard her exhale, felt her pull her hands slowly from his sides. “Oh.”
“Not that I don’t want you,” he said, painfully aware of how hard his cock was and how much he wanted to feel her – any part of her – wrapped around it. “Not that it doesn’t hurt to say no.”
He was also aware that this – what he’d felt within the past five minutes, the good and the bad – was the most he’d felt for anyone or anything since he’d reached the full therapeutic dose of his current medication a few months ago. Hannah had broken the barriers that’d boxed him in without even realizing it.
He felt alive in a way he hadn’t in a while. It was good and bad at the same time. But it wasn’t dangerous, or intense enough to shred his self-control. It was just right, which made it even harder to deny.
“Please forget I asked.” She took a step backward, dragging her gaze down and moving toward her car.
Forget? As if that was possible. He’d think about what she’d suggested – what he’d turned down – all night. And beyond that, he was sure.