“Your house is insane.” I say as I lie on my back in his extra-super-duper-king bed. The sheets are so soft, and the comforter is extra fluffy. He has so many rooms, I don’t even know how many total, and every single one of them is tastefully put together by a really good designer. It’s still a little cold here. It’s beautiful, and the house has so much potential, but it’s not…home.
“It’s alright, I guess.” I can feel his shrug next to me.
“You guess?” I pop my weight on my elbow and look at him. “The house is a work of art. Why did you buy it if you don’t like it?”
He chews on the inside of his cheek before speaking. “This house belonged to my father’s family. Then they lost it, and I bought it.”
I peer into his eyes. “Don’t you like it, though? It’s gorgeous.”
He lets out a loud sigh and brings his hands under his head. “It’s beautiful, but it’s just…empty, you know. It’s not home.”
Oh, my poor Stephan. I know the feeling all too well.
“I had the same feeling when you left.” I lie back and stare at the ceiling.
“What do you mean?” He sits so he can look at me.
“When you left Little Hope and my home, it stopped being home. It felt like…you took the home with you, you know?”
He watches me for a few meaningful moments before speaking again. “I actually do.”
“Good,” I say with a smile. “I’m hungry.”
“We can order something. Perks of living in the city.” He winks and climbs off his giant bed.
“We’ve ordered every single meal for the time we’ve been here.”
“Yes, because we’ve had a three-day sex marathon and didn’t have time to cook.” His lopsided smile aims to make me forget how to think, and he knows it, because he uses it every time I need some extra convincing.
“Don’t give me that.” I point to his face, barely able to contain my own smile.
“Okay.” He throws his hands in the air defensively. “What is your plan then?”
“I can whip us up some breakfast.” I shrug.
“From what?” he asks, laughing. “I have beer and bourbon in the fridge.”
“Hmm, good point.” I lean against the headboard and pull the comforter over my body because if he sees me naked, we will not be getting any food, and I could use a break. To be clear, my coochie could. The man is insatiable and, quite frankly, not small. Far from it, and by day three of constant shagging, I can sure use a break. Like maybe a warm bath with a gallon of lidocaine in it. “Let’s order breakfast, but we should go shopping after to stock your fridge and pantry.”
His brows shoot up to the sky. “You want to stock my pantry?”
“Why do you make it sound so dirty?”
His laughter is light and carefree—I love the sound of new Stephan. He pulls me into his embrace and rests his chin on the top of my head. “Okay, we can go to the store later.”
My face nestles into the left side of his chest, right where he used to have an empty spot, now filled with new ink.
“Did I tell you how much I love it?” I give it a quick kiss.
“What?” He looks down at me.
“My name on your skin.”
“How do you know it’s your name?” He bites his lip, trying to suppress a smile, threatening to burst.
“C’mon,” I chuckle. “Why else would a person in their right mind put a damn ginger squirrel above their nipple?”
His body shakes with laughter. “I wasn’t in my right mind. But honestly, no self-respecting tattoo artist would ever put the name of his partner on his body—it’s like a call to the universe to deliver a painful breakup.”
“Seriously?” I cackle at this professional superstition—everyone has those.
“No jokes. We don’t do names on the body, and I made it a rule in my parlors even if anyone asks for it—I don’t want that shit on my conscience.”
I giggle. “It’s so absurd.”
“Maybe,” he shrugs, “but it’s true. That’s why we always find a way to find the right representation for the person we want on our skin.”
It sounds so dirty…but so right.
“A squirrel?” I lift a brow because c’mon, couldn’t he find a lion, or I don’t know, a sexy panther.
“That’s my little squirrel.” He leans to kiss my nose. “It’s because I knew you as Squirrel even before I knew you. Does that make sense?”
I look in his eyes and find the truth I’ve been searching for. “It actually does.”
The smile he gives me is heart-stopping and mouthwatering, and I just know my coochie will cry later.
“C’mere,” I pull his face to mine, “I need a kiss.”
He obeys with a laugh. “You are a very insatiable squirrel.”
An hour later, we order breakfast and eat at the small table in the sunroom. It’s a very vintage-looking place with old-fashioned flower curtains and wooden stools. I’m a little surprised he decided to keep it—it’s so not his style. To think of it, the whole house is a mix of styles. His room is very futuristic, and the living room and the kitchen are as well, but some areas still hold that feeling of old times. And I absolutely love it. I think after his bed, this little table is my second favorite place.
By the time the clock hits two p.m., we drive to the grocery store. We don’t have a list because he needs literally everything. He wasn’t joking when he said he only has liquor in his house. Even though for the past three days, I haven’t seen him touch or even look at the bottles once. I don’t think alcoholism is healthy, but in his case, I’m sure he had a reason for it so I don’t push (much)—he used it to dull the pain. Hopefully, he’ll have less of that now, so the need will subside eventually.
At the grocery store, I get everything I can get my hands on and drop it in the cart he’s pushing with the ever-present smile of a jolly fool on his too-handsome face.
We’ve got groceries for at least two weeks. And since we haven’t talked about how long I’ll be staying, I figured I’ll leave when I start feeling the tension.
“Oh, look at that!” I point at the plates with ugly flowers that sort of match the curtains in the breakfast nook of his house. “They’re adorable!” I rush to grab a few.
“They’re ugly,” he deadpans.
“They are not.” They are, but I still level him with a stare, causing a small smile on his lips. “I like them.”
“Then we’re taking them.” He leaves the cart and goes to pick up all the plates from the shelf.
“We don’t need that many.”
“We do,” he replies and places them into the already overflowing cart.
“We need a matching set then,” I chime in hopefully.
“Lead the way.” He starts pushing the cart with the determined look of a man on a mission.
We grab not matching mugs and bowls, check out, and load groceries into the car. Then he says he needs coffee, and right around the corner they sell his favorite blend in a small, local coffee shop.
We walk there, holding hands like a cute couple from a Hallmark movie. I’ve never thought that would be me, but here I am, perfectly content with the simple pleasures in life.
Then the moment happens. You know the one you might see in a movie when the sun shines, and something reflects in the light, and it’s so bright and yada yada yada? Well, that moment just happens to me. In one of the windows of a small store, a piece of jewelry winks at me. The sun reflects from the surface of the cutest emerald ring on the plant and blinds me. I freeze for a second and watch the ring in stupor. It’s never happened to me before. I’m not vain. I don’t buy expensive jewelry or clothes. I wear what everyone around me does. Besides the lingerie—that’s where half of my paycheck goes. But that ring cried out my name. A ring? A little too meaningful in my opinion, and a little too early. God, I hope Stephan didn’t notice.
Giving the ring a side-eye, I pull Stephan’s hand away from the shop as fast as possible.
“What just happened?” he asks, a hidden smile in his voice.
“Nothing. I just slipped on the ice. Let’s go,” I mumble, embarrassed, hoping he’ll let it slide.
He sends a doubtful look my way but switches the topic, and I’m forever grateful for it.
We get two orders of his favorite coffee and walk back to the car. Once he starts the engine, he starts patting his pockets.
“Shit, I forgot my wallet in the coffee shop.”
“Okay, let’s go.” I reach for the door handle to open it, but he places his hand on my elbow, stopping me.
“Nah, wait here. I’ll be right back.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” he waves me off, “I’ll be right back.”
He gives me a quick peck on the lips and leaves. I answer a couple of emails by the time he comes back. He gets inside the car with a force, bringing the cold air and the warmth of his presence with him.
“Did you find it?”
“Yeah, it was there,” he says, pulls me in for another quick kiss, and switches the gear on the car.
We drive home, where we put everything away together like a decent couple, and I start prepping dinner. Stephan starts the coffee machine, and once it’s done, he pours me a cup with the perfect amount of sugar and cream and props his fit butt on a tall stool at the island.
I put music on my phone and start shaking my ass to the rhythm when I notice a hot stare on me. Totally assuming Stephan’s thinking about sex, I give him a sultry smile.
That he doesn’t return.
“Is something wrong?” I ask as I carefully put the spatula on the table.
He shakes his head.
“Then what just happened?” I’m searching his face for any cues. To be completely honest, I’m still a little on edge, not knowing what to expect from him. I think he doesn’t know what to expect of himself either, since this guilt-free life is completely new for him.
“I think I like this house now,” he says quietly, and that wasn’t even in the top fifty things I expected him to say.
“Alright?” I ask carefully.
He looks around as if seeing it all for the first time. “Since you’ve been here, everything is the same…But not, at the same time. Does that make sense?” His brows pull together.
I walk around the table and stop between his spread legs.
“It does,” I whisper. “You like having me here.” I don’t ask—I state.
“I do. I think that’s what I was missing.” Then the familiar mischievous look lights up his eyes. “A hot woman in my kitchen, cooking me some raw meat.”
I smack his shoulder with my fist. “Then go find yourself any hot woman.”
“I should.” He bites his lips.
“You should.” I mimic the gesture, and his eyes dip to my mouth.
“I don’t think I can find someone hotter, though.” His voice turns hoarse.
“You probably won’t,” I whisper and put my hands on his shoulders.
“Then I should settle with you.” His large hands land on the sides of my waist.
“You should.” I lick my lips, knowing it drives him crazy.
And on cue, he pulls me into him with a thud and his lips land on mine. My hands move to the back of his neck, one of his most sensitive places. I know he likes me taking charge from time to time, and this is how I can control the kiss.
But this time, he doesn’t want it because his palm grabs the back of my neck, and he moves my head to the side, controlling me. Then his mouth lands on my neck as he starts sucking on the skin. Then he bites—a little painfully—and I gasp. He kisses the sting away, but I’m a little shocked. I’m always up for some fine line between pain and pleasure, but this bite stepped a little over it.
“Ouch,” I say and pull away.
“I’m sorry, Lei. I had to do that.” There’s no remorse on his face.
“Why?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“Cherry called today and said I have to come to the office tomorrow to sign some things. And I will have to leave you there hanging out by yourself for ten minutes.”
“And?”
“Ten minutes in a place like mine for a woman like you is a lot.”
“A lot for what?” I can feel my forehead wrinkling.
“For snatching you. Obviously.”
I begin laughing. “That was a good one.” I think he’s joking, but he’s dead serious.
“I’m serious. You are clearly into tats and bad boys, and there is plenty of that there. I don’t want to risk it.”
“And that?” I point at my neck.
“That’s my insurance that everyone will stay the fuck away.”
He’s dead serious, and I want to laugh. Like laugh to the point I’ll start crying, but his face tells me that it’s a bad time for joking. So, I sober up, come closer to him, and put my hands on his shoulders. Tactile contact always helps to deliver the message better.
“Why do you think I’ll jump ship the moment I see some other hot dude?”
He swallows before speaking. “Because I still can’t believe you’ve chosen me.”
“Stephan,” I whisper, surprised at how insecure this wonderful man can be. “I can’t believe that you chose me either. I’m a small-town girl, a boring sample of rural life, and you’re a city millionaire with an empire you’ve built yourself. With a body and face of a Greek god. I’m sure there are thousands of women willing to warm your bed, and yet here you are, playing house with me. Do you think I’m not scared?”
“You shouldn’t be.” His eyes move between mine as his hands squeeze my waist. “You should never fear I’d choose someone else. That I’d even look at someone else.” He chuckles. “Hell, that I’d even think about thinking of looking at someone else.” He takes my chin between his fingers. “You are the only thing holding me together. And the whole world knows that. If you ever leave me, I’ll fall apart.”
I rest my forehead against his. “How did it all happen?” I feel his warm breath on my skin. “Yesterday, I was a single girl with no feelings for anyone and no prospects, and now I’m here, with you. It already feels like we’re a unit.”
He chuckles and rubs his nose against mine. “I like the way you think. We’re a unit. I’ve always felt like there was a piece of me missing. I just didn’t know it was you.”
“We fit.”
“We do.”
“You might want to deal with Alex first, though.” I smile and feel him smiling back.
“This time, I’ll fight back.” He thinks for a second before adding, “Actually, I might punch first this time.”
“I sure hope you will.” I lightly kiss his cheek. “I happen to like your face the way it is.”
“You won’t believe it, but I happen to like it too.”
“Are you wearing eyeliner?” I whisper the question into his ear, and he laughs. A full belly, good-natured laugh.
“Et tu Brute?”
“Your eyes are very pretty.” I shrug shyly.
“No, I’m not wearing eyeliner. I have my father’s eyes.” He pulls me back into him. “In fact, I look a lot like him.”
“Do you have any pictures of him?”
“I do.” He nods. “I can show them to you.”
“After dinner.”
“Alright.”
We eat dinner in a very nonformal way, meaning I’m wearing his T-shirt with no panties on because he still managed to fit in a quickie before we ate, and he’s wearing my favorite gray sweats. Love that piece of clothing. Definitely created by a woman—a very smart one—we all should praise her every time a well-hung man’s junk flops around in those.
We talk about pretty much everything, and I feel like since the veil of guilt was taken from his eyes, he sees the world differently. And I like this new person a lot.
The next day, as promised, we go to the same parlor I had visited him at before. I felt awkward coming here again, especially when I was met with a nasty look from the same receptionist. When she saw us holding hands, her nostrils flared, and I swear I saw steam coming from her ears. Huh, someone has a crush on her boss.
The same guy who showed me in before gives me a nod of obvious approval as we pass his station. A few people say hi, and as Stephan predicted, a few very curious, flirty smiles are sent my way. I return them all with a polite smile of my own and grip Stephan’s hand tighter.
When he opens the door into his office, the same woman, Cherry, is sitting at his desk and arguing on the phone. When she sees us, she lifts her fingers in the air and keeps fighting with the person on the line. And I’d say she’s winning.
Once she’s done, she aggressively clicks the screen, drops the phone down, and pulls on her hair. “Fucking asshole!”
“What happened?” Stephan’s voice turns concerned, and I see his protective side begin showing. I’ve never thought of myself as a jealous person, but maybe it’s because I haven’t found someone I was scared to lose, but even knowing their sort of relationship, I feel a little twinge of the green creature. I try to suffocate it because Cherry was the one who saved Stephan’s life. If she didn’t call me when she did…I don’t even want to think about it.
“The vendor is being a dick. They delivered the wrong colors, and now he’s telling me it’s our fault because we haven’t placed the order correctly.” She throws her hands in the air angrily.
“Want me to take over?”
“Fuck no.” She waves her slender hand dismissively. “You do you. Or her.” She winks at me, and I smile in return. She is rude and crass, and I love her. “I’ll deal with the fucker.”
“You sure?” He doesn’t sound convinced.
“Duh. Of course.” She rolls her eyes, and I finally understand their dynamic. She does more for him than I initially thought. She’s not only his friend and his family, but she’s also his confidant and the person who’s holding his business together. Quite literally. An instant rush of gratitude overcomes me, and I, despite me being…well, me, rush to her side and envelope her in a hug.
She freezes for a moment, but then she gets her wits together and wraps her arms around me, giving me a hefty squeeze.
“Do I want to know what’s happening?” Stephan asks, confused.
“No!” we cry in unison, and only then do I pull away. But not before I give her another squeeze.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“No,” her voice hitches, “thank you.”
We understand each other, and I go to look up, finding Stephan with a small smile of satisfaction on his face.
As they chat business, I look at the pictures of the tattoos on the walls.
“Those are awesome. Who made them?” I ask to Cherry’s satisfaction, because her face turns into one of a cat who just ate a canary.
“Those are made by the very hand of your boyfriend.”
Boyfriend. We haven’t put any labels on our relationship, but after all the talks, I’d assume he is.
“All of them?” I ask with raised brows.
“Yep,” she pops the p, “all of them. He had style.”
“Had?” I ask in confusion.
“Yep, had.” She glares at Stephan. “Now he won’t ink anyone. Doesn’t even draw shit.”
I turn toward them. “I want you to ink me.”
Both of them look shocked. Yeah, I didn’t see that one coming either, but roll with me here, please.
“I don’t ink anymore.” He shakes his head vigorously, visibly slipping into the dark state of mind.
“Alright.” I shrug. “I’ll ask someone to ink me then. I want a tattoo on my ass.”
“Fuck no!” Stephan exclaims as his neck strains and turns red. Hook, line, and sinker.
Cherry snickers as she takes a step back. “Let’s ask Hulk. He lo-o-oves ass tats. Very good and,” she clears her throat, “hot blood. But his hands can do some real magic.” She takes another step back. Her face full of mischief while Stephan’s face turns redder.
“Who’s Hulk?” I play along.
“That young stud you saw when you walked in here.” She points her thumb behind her back, a wide smile on her lips.
“Cool,” I shrug, “let’s ask him.”
“I said fuckin’ no!” Stephan’s voice booms in the tight space, nearly deafening us all. Then he adds quieter, “I’ll ink you.”
“Sure,” I reply calmly, while sending Cherry, who’s trying to hold herself together and not burst into laughter, a grateful smile.
“Wait here.” Then he turns to me and adds, “Don’t come out.”
“I won’t,” I promise, widening my eyes innocently.
Once he disappears from the room, we start laughing. I’ve never seen him like that, nor did I know he could be such a caveman. Do I like it? No. I freaking love it. I’ve always known I wanted a relationship to consume me. I wanted another person to breathe me, and I wanted to do the same. I just didn’t know it was achievable.
“I love it,” Cherry says between hiccups. “I’ve never seen him like that. Oh-h.” She grabs her side. “Ouch. Haven’t laughed like this for ages.”
“Thank you,” I say, knowing what she means.
“Thank you too.” She nods. “But we’ll never speak of it again, alright?”
I nod in return, happy that she chose this way. She worries about him, but she also knows and respects him enough not to talk behind his back. She just became one of my favorite people.
A few minutes later, Stephan comes back with a tray full of things needed for inking, I assume.
“What do you want?” he sits in his chair and asks gruffly, still grouchy from us tricking him.
“Surprise me.” I give him my best megawatt smile I know he can’t resist. If he learned I say ‘yes’ every time he gives me a bad-boy smile, I totally figured out his vice.
His face brightens as he pats the table in front of him. “C’mere.”
“And this is where I leave you to it. Remember,” Cherry lifts her pointer finger in the air in a warning while she walks outside, “the walls are thin.”
“Ready?” he asks me with a boyish smile. His face is free of worries, and now I see why Cherry wanted him to ink again—it’s his place of happiness. He might not notice, but he transforms into real Stephan. Archie’s mask of a tough guy drops, and he is just Stephan. I think I’ll be walking with ninety-nine percent of my body covered in ink if it would put that happy smile on his face.
“I am.” I prop myself on the table, lie on my stomach, and pull my pants down.
“You weren’t joking about the spot, huh.”
“Nope.” I accept the pillow he passes me and put it under my face. “Told you I want it on my ass.”
A few painful hours later, when he starts cleaning the tattoo, I hop off the table and walk to the mirror. When I see what he’s done, my eyes go all watery, and a tear slips down my cheek.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says with a proud smile in his voice.
Here is this arrogant man that charmed everyone.
Myself included.
A tattoo of a tiny, black panther gently touching a tiny squirrel with its paw looks back at me from the mirror. The details are amazing, considering the piece is small by itself. He truly has amazing talent.
On the drive back home, Stephan holds my hand the whole time. It’s cute and adorable. I bet people who see his mask—Archie—wouldn’t expect him to be so sweet, but he is. So sweet and so very gentle.
“What was that about?” he asks, referring to our hug. I think.
“Nothing. Just two women bonding.”
“With Cherry?” He sends me a quizzical look. “I love Cherry. Adore her. She is my family. But she’s a total bitch, and she doesn’t like anyone. I haven’t seen her bonding with someone right off the bat. What did you promise her? Our firstborn?”
I chuckle, “She’s cool.”
He sends me another quizzical look and keeps driving. He doesn’t know the extent of things she does for him, and I’ll make sure she gets noticed more, because I think she’s been that person who’d been holding him together before me.
