Helena Hunting - Inked Armour

“Are you talking about the sex tonight?” I turned my head so I could see his face. “I made the suggestion.”

“Only because I’ve mentioned it before.”

“I wouldn’t have said anything if I hadn’t wanted it. I needed to be with you. I was the one who started it.”

“I don’t know if I agree with that. You have a history of caving, especially for me.”

“You think so? Who let who into their apartment that first time?”

“I kissed you, though. I made the first move,” he argued.

The flirting had driven me almost insane during the tattoo session. The buzz of attraction had been an aphrodisiac. “I couldn’t have given you any more of an invitation if I tried. Shall I remind you that I’m the one who provided a loophole for your ridiculous rule? I knew exactly what I was doing when I lured you into my bedroom. I wanted you. It’s always been me pushing you, not the other way around.”

He smiled slightly, maybe caught up in the memories, then his expression grew serious as he traced the outline of the wing curling around my shoulder. “I’m not just talking about sex, Tenley. I’m speaking in general terms.”

Water splashed and trickled over the side of the tub as I turned to see him better. “You’re not referring to the tattoo, are you? Because I specifically recall coming to you with it. Not the other way around.”

“No. That’s not what I meant. Although, I’d like to remind you, I asked you to come by the shop more than once, and I’m the one who convinced you to get the cupcake first.” His hand smoothed over my hip, close to the tattoo in question.

“I would have brought the design to you eventually, even without the persuasion. And the cupcake tattoo was a means to an end. The payoff was worth it.”

Hayden laced his fingers through mine. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I said, concerned by the serious slant of his brow.

“What would happen if Trey came back again?”

The odd question threw me. “He won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t have anything he wants anymore.”

“What if he did, though? How do I know you won’t leave again? That wasn’t something you wanted to do, but you went anyway.”

So this was the topic he’d been circling. I thought we’d already dealt with these fears, but in the wake of so much stress, they’d been unearthed again. What he didn’t understand was that Connor had been the expectation for my future. Being with Hayden was a choice.

“I wouldn’t make the same decision this time. I was in a different headspace then. I didn’t know how to deal with how I felt about you. There was so much guilt, and I didn’t know what to do with it.”

Hayden’s arms tightened around me. “I just don’t want you to leave me again. I can’t do this without you anymore.”

His expression made my heart hurt. “Hayden, you are everything I could ever want. You are the place I want to be.”

It was noon before I opened my eyes the next day. Tenley was slow to wake up and even slower to get moving. As she tried to sit up, she cringed and moaned, then flopped back down. She rolled over on her stomach, her face mashed into the pillow.

“What hurts?” The hood of my car was no soft place to get it on.

“My lower back,” she mumbled from under her veil of hair.

I threw the covers off and leaned over. I checked for bruising, then ran my thumbs down her spine. When I reached her tailbone, Tenley made a sound of displeasure.

“Right here?” I asked, putting a little pressure on the spot.

“Mm, and my hips are stiff.” She blew her hair out of her face.

“Let me make it better.” I started rubbing, and little sounds of approval escaped her when I hit a particularly sore spot. TK jumped up on the bed and started sniffing around, her nose bumping up against my leg. Sometimes we had to lock her out of the room when we were having sex because TK sat at the end of the bed and meowed at us otherwise. It was creepy and distracting as hell. Especially when Tenley started laughing.

Now, TK climbed right up on Tenley’s back and started to knead, getting in on the action. Then she head-butted my hand and plunked herself down right where I was massaging.

Tenley peeked over her shoulder. “It looks like your other kitty is jealous.”

“It’s not like she doesn’t get enough attention.”

I picked TK up before she started in with the claws and lay back down beside Tenley, settling TK on my chest. She nuzzled right in, rubbing the top of her head under my chin, purring up a storm. “How’s your back feeling now?”

“Okay. A couple painkillers should take care of it if it’s still bothering me later.” Tenley closed her eyes again.

I had other questions—about her use of medication, about what Cross and Miller had said to her last night, about Chris’s asinine yet brilliant idea for a New Year’s getaway—but all of those could wait.

“Tenley?”

“Hmm?”

I kissed the tip of her nose. “Do you want to open the rest of our presents?”

Her eyes popped open. “Oh my God! Of course!”

She rolled out of bed and sprang to her feet. In the next heartbeat she disappeared, dropping to the floor. I leaned over, not quite sure what had happened. Her hands appeared at the edge of the mattress as she hoisted herself up, coming nose to nose with me.

“Soooo,” she said, “I guess I haven’t fully recovered from that workout last night.”

I swung my legs around and slipped my hands under her arms. She muttered something about being okay, which was a load of crap because she wobbled like a foal, using my shoulders for support.

“We need to try out different positions,” I said to her boobs, which were right in my face.

“Right now?” Tenley’s voice became a sultry whisper.

I looked up. Her eyes were focused on my stupid dick, which couldn’t get with the program and deflate.

“Uh, no, kitten. We should put a hold on that until the staying-upright thing is less of a problem.”

She pouted, but I wasn’t about to cave. It was already after noon on our first Christmas together. I wanted to open presents while drinking coffee and eating the cupcakes I’d found hidden in the fridge last night.

When she no longer needed me for support, I rolled off the bed and rooted around in my dresser, yanking on a pair of festive pajama pants.

Tenley was still living out of an overnight bag when she came over, which needed to change. I’d cleared a section in my closet for her and she had a few things hanging in there, but no comfy lounging gear. I grabbed a pair of boxers for her and my STRYKER hoodie. She covered up all that sexy, bare skin, which made it easier to focus, and we left the bedroom.

After coffee was brewed and poured—Tenley making hers undrinkable with a shitload of sugar and cream—we sat down and exchanged the gifts under the tree. It was the first time in the past seven years that I’d actually looked forward to the holiday.

I passed the first gift to Tenley. She pulled the red-and-white-striped bow off the top and stuck it to her head with a cheeky grin. TK batted at the springy tendrils of ribbon as Tenley removed them from the box as well. Eyes bright with anticipation, with her fingernail she cut through the tape sealing the box. “Did you wrap this?”

“Yeah.”

She paused to kiss me. “You’re pretty incredible, you know that? This is a professional wrap job. You could start a side business.”

“I’ll get right on that.” I smiled as she attempted to unwrap the box without ripping the paper. She gave up halfway through and tore into it. I’d put forth some serious effort to make the presents look good. Every single gift had bows and ribbon and all that frilly crap on it. Even the tiny ones. Her excitement made it worth it.

Tenley tossed the torn wrapping into the wastebasket I’d set up beside the coffee table. She opened the box, folding back the tissue paper. A black hoodie sat inside. Tenley traced the skull-and-crossbones cupcake emblazoned in white over the left side of the chest. She read the lettering that arched above and below in a tattoo-inspired font.

“Does that say . . .” She lift the hoodie out of the box to get a better look.

“It’s supposed to be a joke.” Sort of. Not really. “I like the way mine looks on you and you’re always hijacking it, so I thought I’d get you your own. This one is your size.” I was doing that rambling shit again.

“Oh. So the PROPERTY OF HAYDEN STRYKER inscription is the joke part?”

“You should check out the back,” I replied, avoiding the question because it was not, in fact, the joke part.

She turned it over to find STRYKER in red lettering with gold piping across the back. It was about more than just liking the way my hoodie looked on her. I also liked the way my name looked across her back and chest. I would never admit, not in a million years, that I’d fantasized about inking my name on her somewhere. The crease at the inside of her thigh was definitely a favored option in my imagination. That way I’d see it every time I went down on her.

Until now, I’d never understood why people put someone else’s name on their body. It wasn’t erasable. Even laser was a painful and not-always-effective method of removing such mistakes. Memorial tattoos made sense, though. I’d even put one on Cassie, though we’d argued over the placement for weeks before I folded.

I could respect those guys who came in and had their kid enshrined on their back or chest or biceps. I figured it was a way for them to cement their role as a parent. But tattooing the name of a significant other on my body had always seemed ludicrous. Jamie’s LISA tattoo—across his lower abdomen no less—had baffled the shit out of me. Not so much anymore.