Brand Me (Imagine Ink Book 2) Read online

  Tori was hoping he could hear the humor in her voice and maybe overlook the hint of truth there.

  When Michael leaned forward, caging her with his arms and dropping his forehead to hers, she felt safe, protected…loved. “That’s not true, Princess, and we both know it. If you were always right, you wouldn’t be here with me, now would you.” He kissed her with so much emotion and understanding, she damn near lost consciousness, and it felt like another branding. This one left scorch marks on her bones.

  “Besides, aren’t you exhausted? Taking the lead, holding everyone together. Making it your personal crusade to try to, I don’t know, be responsible for everything all the time? Relax, worry about Tori, and maybe Michael just a little, but mostly Tori. Let someone else do it. Like I said, they’re adults, they can handle it.”

  Michael urged her down onto the mattress and worshipped her body in every possible way, repeatedly. Tori was happy, truly happy. After Michael fell into an exhaustive sleep, she propped herself up on her elbow and just watched him. The firelight flickering along his jawline gave him an almost supernatural glow. What saddened her was when his eyes started darting around under his lids; the contented relaxation fled his face only to be replaced by demons coming out to play.

  She knew it then. She had lost her heart to this man when she felt physical pain with every wince assaulting his face and each muscle jerk from under the covers. That’s when she realized, this is why he doesn’t sleep—not wanting to go through this is what had called him from their bed each and every night, but tonight, they had wine and he had a muscle relaxer.

  This was also how addictions were formed. When a body became too exhausted to function and a person realized alcohol, or pills, or a combination, could force them to sleep, they did what they had to do to survive the madness. Sure, there were plenty of addicts who were addicts for other reasons, but they were easier to get into recovery than the ones who had a legion of demons to face every night.

  Tori could only hope and pray Michael would not head down that path. If he could see Dr. Beckett immediately, there was hope. She wished she could convince him to leave Tennessee now. Keeping the cabins would mean nothing to him if he lost his soul. No matter what, she decided right then and there, looking at his face contort as those evil memories frolicked, she would see this man through his upcoming trials and if he would have her, through them all, for the rest of his days as his partner.

  But only if he allowed her to, wanted her to. She wouldn’t force him to let her in. Satisfied with her choices, she tucked herself close behind him and let sleep claim her.

  Michael woke in a cold sweat and shot to an upright position with the force of a cannon blast. Turning to Tori to ensure he didn’t wake her, he breathed a sigh of relief at her still-sleeping form. After a quick trip to the bathroom, he built up the fire and returned to bed. He slid under the covers facing her and wrapped her in his embrace, molding his body to hers.

  Just because he resisted the urge to curl up in the corner of the bathroom and cry didn’t mean he would be able to sleep, or even lie here and stare at the ceiling without having a major breakdown. Fuck, I’m pathetic. If he wasn’t crying it out like a two year old with a boo-boo, then he needed to be in her body to be calm.

  He had no plans to wake her up, so he just held her and stared into her angelic sleeping face to quiet the voices. As long as he focused and held her tight, he could cope, but the second his eyes fluttered closed, and his hold on her lost some juice, he was haunted once again. But admittedly, it was muted with her this close by.

  Michael jerked awake for the umpteenth time, tightened his grip, and refocused on Tori. The woman you love. It took him a sleepy minute to grasp where that voice originated, it had come from within. That alone disturbed him, he hadn’t been candid with himself in so long, he barely recognized it.

  His gaze traced her face through untainted glasses and he let the truth wash over him. He did love her, from the first snarky look she sent him. But it was her kindness that sealed his fate. She was one of the purest people he’d ever meet, the most genuine woman for sure.

  In his world, women wanted something from him. It was either to sleep with the lead singer for bragging rights, or sleep with the trainer for bragging rights, or, in Tonya’s case, the social status. They lived in a microscopic town and it was the big fish, little pond scenario. Michael knew he wasn’t all that in the traditional aspect, but in their little neck of the woods, well, no one ever really graduated high school. Born either popular or not, one lived within that clique, married and worked in it, and eventually died in it. Sadly, their kids were categorized the exact same way and the cycle continued.

  Everyone knew everyone and everyone’s great-great grandparents. If you didn’t go back five generations in that town, you were never part of the “in” crowd, and that didn’t change. So for Michael, it didn’t matter where he went or what he did, he would always be one of the cool kids back home. He could go to jail, assassinate a political leader, or streak naked past town hall, and he’d still be socially accepted. There were very few things that were unforgivable if you were one of the “in.” An offense against another of the same clique, if they ranked higher, was one.

  There were exceptions to every rule, even that one, but they were rare. Tori was from the next county over, but same story. Michael had heard of her family in passing growing up. They were unicorns. The Reids had managed to skirt the line between the two worlds and balance there for years. Even when Walker went to jail for assault, her family had enough, whatever it is it takes, to still walk that edge.

  Maybe it was because of the way it played out, maybe it was the victim, who knew. Either way, Tori would understand the dynamics and what would happen once they returned home and word trickled down south of him filing charges of rape here. After hearing John recount what Troy went through—what they all went through—he wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to ask such a thing of her. The Reids might not survive another small town scandal.

  One good thing would come of this, he thought with a humorless laugh, Tonya would run for the hills. Nothing he did or said fazed the woman. She wanted who she wanted and that was that. She bounced back from the whole sleeping with another man thing, by painting herself the victim in the public eye. Michael was the cold-hearted love of her life. She couldn’t break the ice around his heart and she was just seeking affection and validation. But she knew it was a mistake and it broke her heart to let another man touch her, boo hoo. Bullshit, but they ate it up with a spoon.

  Printing the wedding announcement and not canceling things was just another tactic of hers, or more likely, her father’s. To leave a devoted love at the altar was social suicide if they were of the right lineage. Tonya believed Michael would never commit such a small-town sin, but boy, was she going to be blown the fuck away. Once she found out about Wendy, she would be the one committing such an act. Of course, she’d come off smelling like roses since he brought the embarrassment down upon them.

  Michael didn’t give a flying fuck about status, never had. Matter of fact, he’d give it all up, everything in his life, just to be whole again, the man Tori deserves. Watching her sleep made him wonder if they could ever have the future he envisioned. He could see their kids, practically feel their happiness, but at what cost?

  How many people would pay the price for his history? The obvious answer would be Tori, but what about the rest of her family? Tori spoke fondly of her parents all the time, and certainly they were not the type to tie their worth to the value the community labeled them with, but what about their friends or the companies her dad had a hand in? What about Walker and Erika’s daughter, their work? What about Tori and Melanie’s plan? What about all that?

  Her face lit up like a fucking Christmas tree when she spoke of the store they planned to open. It wasn’t just a way to make money or a job, it was a dream, one she held dear. How would he cope if his attempt to seek justice crushed that dream? Michael knew
he couldn’t pay that price or ask her to foot the bill. No, he would seek justice, but he would distance himself from her until it was over and her business established, then maybe, just maybe, they could break the rules and become an exception.

  A genuine but sad smile landed on his face. He would savor the time they had left, explain to her his need to see this through alone, and see what the future brought. Tori was brilliant, she understood the score, and sadly, but luckily for him, she would comprehend the implications of getting wrapped up with him publicly. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t relish every second in her presence, taste her every moan of pleasure and experience every single shiver and goose bump on her silken skin until they had to part.

  After kissing her throat, he slipped into dreamland. This time, there were no nightmares; no Wendy, no impotence, no backlash or rumors or groupies—none of that, just the scent of Tori and a new day dawning. He dreamed of her chasing toddlers on the shore while gulls and waves provide the soundtrack. It was beautiful and serene; he never wanted to leave, but something was pulling him away, something…carnal.

  The emerald water faded, the sugar sands receded, and his focus narrowed down to his cock and the warm lips wrapped around it. When his eyes fully cleared, his sleepy gaze clashed with a sensually wicked one inundated with passion. Below those warm brandy eyes, his cock was disappearing and reappearing from her coral lips. Groaning, he fisted both hands in her hair and proceeded to fuck her gorgeous mouth with vigor.

  “Well, well. What a way to wake up,” he manage to grate out through the pleasure coursing through him. Having to pull out of her mouth would be devastating, but necessary. Then he realized, she’d thought of everything. With a condom on, he could come in her mouth and that damn near brought him to the end. His next words were stilted and laced with an impending orgasm he was sure would be volcanic. “Your mouth is Heaven, Princess, sheer ecstasy. I’m going to come so hard, it’ll blow your fucking mind, but I don’t want you to stop, okay? I want you to take it all Princess, you hear me. Every last drop.”

  Nodding her compliance, she gave a vocal acknowledgement as well, that vibrated down his shaft to his sac, and he was done for. Driving into her mouth one last time, he ground her face into the base of his cock and the feel of her repeated swallowing to draw his length down her throat was cataclysmic. “I fucking love you,” he breathed, barely above a whisper. If Tori heard his impromptu confession, she showed no outward signs.

  When she had drawn every drop of essence from his cock, and his muscles stopped spasming, he hauled her up his body and draped her like a blanket across his chest. Caressing the skin on her back, peppering kisses in her hair and riding the high, Michael was truly content for a wisp of time. “That was amazing. I could so handle being wrenched from sleep like that any day of the week.”

  Tori stiffened at his words and raised her head with worry on her face and an apology poised on her lips. “Oh, Michael, I am truly sorry. I thought you were awake, sleepy but awake. You spoke to me as if you were. I would never push unwanted physical contact on you. I’m…” The panic in her voice ripped his heart out and tore it to shreds. Will it always be like this? Would she forever see him as a victim she needed to coddle? In a way, it pissed him off, and for a moment, it was directed toward her. Will Tori ever see me as a whole man or will she always apologize if she takes the lead?

  The pain on her face shifted his anger to where it belonged; Wendy. She did this, she robbed him of being able to wake up the way every man dreams of, with his cock in a lovely lady’s mouth, and simply enjoy it. God, he hated that woman. That thought ushered in panic. What if she is pregnant with my kid, will I be able to love that child the way he or she deserves? Or will I see my attacker in that innocent face?

  What kind of person could hold a child responsible for the sins of their parent? He wished he could say for certain, not him, but fear he might be just that type ripped through his being with a vengeance.

  He weaseled from under Tori’s warm body and made a beeline for the bathroom. Along the way, he held his nausea at bay to soothe the woman he loved. “Oh, honey, no. That’s not ever a thing you have to worry about. I will always crave your touch. I can’t think of a better way to start my day.”

  Turning at the door, he winked at her, “Besides, you’re sexy as Hell when you’re aggressive. You need to set the pace more often.” Once he closed the door, he tossed the condom and turned on the exhaust fan. For one, hoping it would cover up any retching sounds he couldn’t silence, and two, if she thought he was taking a shit, she wouldn’t try to hold a conversation through the door.

  After a few rounds of dry-heaving, he gave himself a pep talk in the mirror, vowing not to let this ruin another minute with Tori. There would be plenty of time to berate himself and throw up about his fate, but he didn’t have all the time in the world when it came to them.

  Once they were back in Florida, and all this shit was all water under the bridge, he would reach out to her and see if she still felt the way he hoped she did now.

  He paused beside the bed and took at her sexy form. God help him if she wasn’t absofuckinglutely perfect—from the muscular curve of her ass topped with two lickable dimples, to the soft slope of her breasts which responded so readily to his touch; from eyes which had shone with love and understanding, to the way her thick thighs cradled his hips with custom perfection, and everything in between.

  “Do you plan to stand there and stare while you freeze to death or are you going to crawl under the sheets and make love to me?”

  Shit, you don’t have to ask me twice. In record time, he was between the sheets and had her draped across him like a security blanket once more. His kisses became insistent, and his hands moved with singular focus while he relished her sensual, slow, and methodical hip rolls. The recurring dreams he used to have right up until the night before he met her came rushing back into his brain.

  A vision of her riding him to completion while he pinched her nipples and she lost herself in abandon played on a loop through his mind. He wanted—no needed—that vision to come to fruition. He coaxed her into a sitting position with gentle, yet insistent hands and she seemed to be in sync with his thoughts. She leaned down for another kiss, and then rose again like a siren from the sea, tossing her hair over her shoulders and giving him an unobstructed view of every rope of muscle on her killer bod, not to mention, her fantastic tits.

  After donning a condom, he grabbed those amazing tits and kneaded them as she sank down on his cock inch by excruciating inch. Their mutual moans of rapture filled the cabin as their pelvises met, signaling he was balls deep in her luscious body. As she ground down on him and moved with increasing purpose, Michael let his visual appreciation drop below her attention-grabbing breasts, to her well-defined abdomen. Shit if she didn’t have a rock hard six-pack. Watching it ripple as she rode him was, fuck, he didn’t have a word strong enough for the impact of the sight.

  This…this is the sight that will carry me through my lonely days. The days until I have her in my arms permanently. The lonely days in case that never happens. Even the days when I’m old and grey. Yep, this is the moment that will get me through life, like a secret stash of food for my soul that will sustain it.

  That thought brought on an unexpected sadness and a surge of fuck nos. He couldn’t let her go, couldn’t give her that choice. Michael couldn’t survive it if she didn’t choose to stay with him or come back to him. That old saying if you love something set it free…well fuck that shit. Panic started tearing his soul in two at the possibility. Screw doing the right thing, screw sparing those around her. Like he told her earlier, they were adults, they could handle their own shit. Why should he deny the one thing that quieted his demons and fed his soul because of where they lived or what might happen?

  No fucking way, Tori was his and she would stay his. If she wanted her freedom, she’d have to ask for it. He wouldn’t manipulate her to keep her against her will, but he was through being a
good guy. What has that ever gotten me anyway? When had doing the right thing not rewarded him with a metric ass ton of bullshit? Never, that’s when, and he was tired of it.

  He was wrenched from his thoughts by the blissful sound of her chanting his name and the contractions of her sweet wet heat—home—beckoning him to follow her into that space in between—in between one second and the next, between pain and pleasure, between wanting it to happen and wanting it to last, in between…everything.

  The “in between” time is so brief, it can’t be counted as a whole, but a fraction. So instant, you blink and it’s in the past. Even though all that is true, there are times when it seems to span hours, and not always in a good way.

  This was one of times.

  As her body pulled his pleasure from him and she chanted his name, her voice went from the lyrical velvet of Tori’s, to the high, nasally pitch of Wendy’s. The pleasure, the homecoming he found in her body shifted to the violation he felt in Wendy’s. His demons started screeching, louder and with more venom than they ever had before, because now, they had won. They had stolen the only thing that could defeat them.

  His hands fell to her hips to throw her off his body. His heart knew it was Tori, but his head was shouting it was Wendy. “No. I said no! Get the fuck off of me.” With the words came the strength he needed to forcibly remove her. The strength he should have been able to muster in that hotel room that night, before he came, but couldn’t.

  From her new place on the edge of the bed, she looked up at him with such immense pain and confusion. Michael could barely comprehend what had happened. He rose to his feet and jerked on a pair of sweats. He loomed over her, knowing he must be presenting a rather intimidating manifestation by the tears spilling down her cheeks and her trembling lips, but he couldn’t pull back from that place.

  “Don’t. Ever. Touch. Me. Again.” The voice was not his, not even close. It was demonic and threatening. The widening of her eyes broke his heart, but his mind was still lashing out at Wendy. He turned away from her and tried to reconcile the two. When the mind and the heart were at odds, neither could function. If he thought he was broken before, he was gravely mistaken.