Lauren Dane: Drawn Together

“Oh sure.” She handed them over.

Contrary to popular belief, she did have filters. A few anyway. She’d been working on it. Which is why she didn’t blurt out the question she was dying to have answered about who had decorated the entry.

She didn’t get involved with married men. She didn’t have a lot of rules about her sex life, but that was one of them. She did not break her personal rules.

“Come through. Would you like a beer or a glass of wine? I hope chicken is all right. I should have asked if you were a vegetarian.”

She followed him, checking out that ass and the broad expanse of his back. He’d look mighty fine with ink.

“Do you have other tats?”

“I do. Three others.”

“Beer, please.” She sat at the large island in the kitchen, watching him pull the beer from the fridge and crack it open. He had nice hands. Big. He moved with ease in his space. Though she’d seen him at the party and he moved with ease there too.

Confident.

He handed it over once he poured it into a glass and then clinked it with his.

“Chicken is fine. Who did your other work?”

“Two of them I got in Boston. The other in San Diego. How many do you have?”

“Six. Brody did them all. He’d kill me if I got them from anyone else.” She snorted. “We’re territorial, you know. Tattoo artists.”

“Don’t report me then. We’ve got about half an hour until the food is ready. Want to go out back? I picked up some appetizer-type stuff. You can show me the sketches while we have our beer.”

He took her elbow and steered her out, not really waiting for her answer. But it wasn’t rude, it was more . . . in charge.

Out back was a gorgeous deck overlooking the water and the lake beyond. He indicated for her to sit on a couch so she did. “This is pretty swank.”

He nodded. “I can’t complain. We used to live on the Eastside, but Carrie, my daughter, wanted to go to a high school over this way. She liked being able to help me decorate this place. Our old house . . . well, it wasn’t hard to move.”

That answered her question about who’d put the female stamp on the entry. “The mother?”

He was quiet a while. She figured that if he didn’t want to talk about it he wouldn’t.

“Yes. It was a house I bought for my ex-wife as a wedding present.”

“What’s that story?”

She drank her beer and sat back, looking out over the yard and the view.

Jonah wasn’t used to people asking him really personal questions like this. Sure, his nosy mother and his brothers, who really had no manners when it came to family stuff. But not strangers.

It was oddly freeing.

“She left.” He shrugged. “It was okay for about eight years. We had some good times. But she wasn’t happy after that.”

“What about your daughter?”

“My ex wasn’t happy as a mother either.”

A look flashed over Raven’s face. Rage. And then it was gone. “She walked away from her kid or did you take your daughter from her?”

He started. “Do I seem that type to you?”

“People are seldom what they appear to be.”

“That’s pretty jaded.”

“That’s pretty reality. I don’t know you that well. You clearly have a lot of money and you’re not used to hearing no. Would you be the first rich powerful dude in history to railroad the wife to snatch the kid just because he could?”

Put that way . . .

He blew out a breath. “I’m not an asshole. No. I didn’t snatch my daughter. But I would have if I needed to. My ex is far happier with my money than our kid. She walked away. Carrie was twelve so she made the choice to stay out here. Her mother lives on the East Coast.”

“She sounds swell. Your ex I mean.”

He paused and then laughed. “She’s missing out on the best thing in the world.” Jonah shrugged. “I can’t pretend I understand it. It used to make me mad.”

“Why not relieved? I mean, I know people who’ve gone through hellish custody battles. It sucks she’s a twat and doesn’t give two shits about her kid. But it sounds to me like your kid is better off without her mom in her life. Just because someone gives birth to you doesn’t mean they’re your fucking mother. Being a mom, or a dad for that matter, is more than biology.”

“There’s a story.”

“Everyone has a story.” She pulled a big pad out. “Here are some of the designs I worked up for you.”

“I’d rather hear your story.”

She sent him a raised brow and he liked it. A lot.

“Fine. But as you noted, I don’t like being told no.”

Her smile sent a shiver through him. “You’ll get used to it.”

He took her hand, turning it to press a kiss at her wrist. She smelled good. Warm. He liked the pleased surprise on her face and the indrawn breath.

“Or maybe you could get used to telling me yes.”

“You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “I’m told it’s a flaw. I’ll try to be worth it.” This woman was a challenge, yes. But one he had every intention of undertaking. He wanted in.

“Hm.”

He grinned as he sat back, taking the sketchbook and opening it.

“Wow. These are incredible.”

And they were. Such a range of styles and designs.

She scooted closer. “This one.” She pointed to a design with multiple wolves. “Could go from your lower back up to your shoulder. I’d need to see where your other tattoos are to figure out how to integrate if they’re close to your back.” She turned the page. “This one would fit nicely square in the center.”

Stunning. Concentric circles of design that built to create the image of a wolf head.

“It’s more Celtic. The first is more Nordic.”

There were others, but his attention kept returning to those first two. “Which do you like best?”

“You’re a big man. Imposing. Intense.” One shoulder lifted. “I like to see the skin where the tat would go. What your musculature is like. A bold tattoo needs to sit just right.”

“Are you trying to get me naked?”

She smirked. “I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait.”

He pulled the T-shirt off and she hummed. That hum was a caress.

She stood. “I need you up so I can get a better look.”

He obeyed, staying very close. She didn’t move away. Instead she looked up into his face. “Goddamn.”

As compliments went, it was a pretty good one.

She circled him, near enough to brush the heat of her body against his skin. Her palms smoothed over his shoulders, across his back, down his spine. She traced the tattoo on his right shoulder.

“Decent work. I can touch it up here.” Her fingertips brushed a spot of sensitive skin.

“Does it need that?”

“Only if you want it to look nice.”

He turned his head and she was so very close. A quick movement and his hand cupped the back of her neck as he took that mouth of hers in a kiss. Hard and fast.

Her taste rushed through his system like wildfire as she opened to him. Her tongue slid along his as he claimed, took, demanded.

She kissed like she meant it. Matching him move for move. He’d kissed women before. But this woman knew what she was about. Took her time, tasting him. A nip of his bottom lip sent a shiver through him. He hauled her close, the sweetness of her curves against him. He was hard. So fucking hard.

All from a kiss.

When he got this woman naked they were going to set shit on fire.

He eased back, taking her bottom lip between his teeth a moment. “That was as good as I imagined.”

Her smile was the furthest thing from coy possible.

“Dinner should be finished soon.”

“Where are the other two tattoos?” She didn’t step back and he didn’t let go, but he had to move to show her.