Irrevocably Mine (Imagine Ink Book 3) Page 2

  “Excellent, as always. I got game in the courtroom, or conference room, as it were.”

  “No surprise there, Killer. You always give one hundred and ten percent to your clients and that’s why they love you.”

  “And why opposing counsels fucking hate me.”

  “No one could hate you, Stacy,” she heard on his exhale. There was the typical awkward silence that always descended over them when Dax complimented her. It wasn’t like that with everyone else. Stacy would always take it all in stride, but with Dax, it always felt different, more serious.

  “Hey listen, do you have time to swing by some time? I’ve got something I want to show you.”

  Stacy was still angry with him about what had happened at the Reid’s barbeque, and considered saying no, but she couldn’t deny the invitation with her body yearning for him.

  “Sure, I can pop by later today, if you want?”

  And by pop, you really mean, pop that dick in your mouth. That was Slutty Stacy, making slurping sounds and moaning Dax’s name in her head. Oh, myeverlovingmotherfuckinggod, I’ve got so many freaking voices in my head, I should claim them as goddamned dependents on my 1040.

  Mom Jeans Stacy was the pessimistic, glass-always-half-empty, parental figure her. There was also Bitchy, you’ll-never-be-happy, Stacy, Rainbows and glitter, oh-my-god-puppies-I-love-puppies, hopeful, Stacy, and now, Slutty-Slutty-Mcfuck-Me-Hard had to join the party. Her head was too fucking crowded, and sadly, none of them were the real her. Could she even remember the real her? Does that woman still exist? She wasn’t sure she knew the answer, but now wasn’t the time to think about it; it was time to prepare herself for being in close proximity to Dax and to figure out a way to stop herself from jumping him.

  “That works for me. See you later.”

  “Later.”

  Big Dax was hopeful when he hung up with Stacy. She owned a piece of his heart from the first day he’d caught a glimpse of her incomparable spirit, and she owned many more with every day that passed.

  They say you get honesty from drunks and children, and that was certainly true with Stacy. The night of her housewarming party, he had helped put a very drunk Stacy to bed, and she had said some things she probably wouldn’t have if she’d been sober. It was a moment of no pretense. She was vulnerable and genuine. That peek into who she was pretty much sealed his fate.

  As she drifted into her drunken slumber that night, she mentioned an ex and a crime and something about short hair. It didn’t make a lot of sense at the time, but it was clear that whatever happened had affected Stacy greatly.

  Dax held off as long as he could, not wanting to invade her privacy, but eventually, months later, once he realized how much he cared about her, he had called in a favor with Andy, Erika’s gay ex-husband, who just happened to be an attorney. He knew if he wanted the scoop, more than what he could learn from public records, he needed Andy’s Cracker Jack private investigator, Chuck.

  In a matter of weeks, Chuck compiled a complete folder on everything surrounding Stacy’s ex, Hank Olson. Dax had never thought he was a chicken until Chuck put that sealed folder in his hands. He couldn’t open it. He wanted to, God knew he wanted to, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  Instead of ripping into it, he asked Chuck for just the highlights and had learned Stacy was the victim of a burglary and assault and had been the key witness in Hank’s trial where he had been convicted of breaking and entering. Dax immediately filed the manila envelope away at his tattoo shop and refused to open it.

  Deploying Chuck was already a major betrayal, yet Dax somehow convinced himself that by not reading it, it made it less violating somehow. Now, he had to come clean with her about the envelope and what he already knew. It was the only way they could ever move toward having more than just friendship. And fuck, Dax was dreading having to tell her.

  She had already been through so much, not only with the ex, but also her battle with cancer. She didn’t know he knew, but that night, she’d also mumbled about cancer and her smile. She never brought it up again, so he pretended he didn’t know, but he did question her brother, John, about it. John was tight-lipped, but reading the cues and of course, her body, Dax put two and two together. He was a boob man, after all, so it seemed fairly obvious to him. That revelation stole a second piece of his heart that night.

  However, when it came to Stacy, he knew that no matter what she looked like under her shirt, he would absolutely love it. He adored everything about her. Stacy was a curvy, tiny package with denim blue eyes and short, platinum hair.

  Her orchids and amber scent caused him to go insta-hard, no matter where he was or who was around. He was in a constant state of arousal whenever he saw her, smelled her, or even thought about her—an awkward position for man his age, for sure.

  No matter what she wore, she looked absolutely edible. Unless she was dressed for yoga, she was dressed to kill, always in spiked heels and a skirt suit that screamed confidence.

  Confidence was the sexiest thing a woman could wear, and Stacy had it in spades.

  The first time Dax sat in the back of the courtroom while Stacy ripped an accused a new one, he was a goner. She was on fire, like an avenging angel sent down from the heavens to right wrongs. She took ownership of the biggest piece of his heart that day. That was the day all of the little pieces she had been taking over the last year finally added up to the whole.

  He unquestionably belonged to her now, whether she knew it or not. Dax figured Francis had cleared the way for him to finally come clean with her admonishment of his “sisters” earlier that week at the barbeque for pushing him and Gus together.

  He asked her over to see the table he’d made her, and if he were lucky, the table would grace one side of his bed instead of the one at her place. It only made sense since he carved the two bedside tables—one for her and one for him—as a complementary pair to his bed.

  Maybe it’s too much, what if she freaks out and bolts? Dax wasn’t stupid. He knew Stacy avoided relationships like the plague, and would probably look for any reason to escape what he was offering her. Plus, he knew she was already upset about him holding out on what he knew before the big barbeque announcement, so he couldn’t anticipate her reaction to his revelation about the folder info, and his gift. This should be interesting, to say the least.

  As Stacy drove to Dax’s house, she tried to rationalize her anger with him. The baby announcement at the barbeque still stung. Not because it was Gus carrying Andy and Marco’s baby, but because she felt on the outside once again. She was out of the loop, but Dax was firmly in. He’d known ahead of time that Gus was the baby oven for them, when it was supposed to have been Erika.

  Plans had changed when Erika was injured in a car accident last year, and could no longer carry Andy’s child, as had been their plan since high school. She still donated the egg, but having the woman Stacy was sure her brother cared deeply for pregnant with another couple’s baby wasn’t ideal.

  Stacy knew her initial reaction to Dax knowing was over the top, to say the least. Storming out of the barbeque with just a clipped goodbye and congratulations wasn’t the right way to handle it. She was strong enough to admit when she was wrong.

  However, that moment had solidified her placement on the outside rather than the inner circle, and she had already added that moment to those in her life when a piece of her soul had died.

  While she drove, she took a mental trip down Memories That Suck Lane. For some reason, it was never images that reminded her of these moments, it was scents.

  First, there was the smell of burnt wood and metal that marked her parents’ death. Then, the stench of the prison that reminded her that her baby brother’s life had been cut short. Next, the foul odor of her own sickness as the chemotherapy ravaged her body. Then, the plasticy whiff of silicon as the prosthesis touched her warm flesh for the first time. Expensive designer cologne was the next thief in a long line of many—cologne worn by a man she let into her ho
me, her body, her heart, a man who took betrayal to a whole new level. And now, thanks to the confirmation that she would forever be an outsider, chlorine had been added to the list. That scent of summer would now mark the latest in a long line of reminders of the pieces of herself she no longer possessed.

  Now that she had time to cool off, she realized Dax didn’t betray their friendship by not telling or warning her. It was not his secret to tell, and he was just being a loyal friend. When she looked at it like that, he offered the same to her and John. They were closer to Dax than anyone else in the Reid clan.

  There was a moment of doubt, but she ignored it. OMG Puppies started talking ninety miles an hour in her head.

  You know what, if you sleep with him, he might still want a relationship from you. You can date, and have sex, and move in together, and be a normal, happy couple. Stacy could practically hear her clapping ecstatically. Oh, that will be so nice, won’t it? To let your guard down and trust someone again. Whew, it’s a lot of work keeping guard 24/7. He has huge hands, and you know what that means?

  “Wait, did Puppies leave and Slutty take over?” Stacy whispered to herself.

  He can not only hold your heart in his palms, exposed, but he can cage it in his fingers and keep it safe without crushing it.

  “Yep, it’s still Puppies,” she whispered, somewhat in relief.

  Stacy let Puppies have free reign, all innocent hope and big-eyed, indulging just a bit in a somewhat normal fantasy, but after a few ticks of her watch, she gathered herself and went in search of Dax. She was not looking for a relationship today, just a good time.

  Dax had no intention of breaking up the pair of end tables he’d carved for himself and Stacy, but he needed an excuse to get her over to his place, alone, so he could put his cards on the table. With the ever-shifting dynamics within their little family, he needed to take the shot and see if it hit the target. If not, he needed to move on. Yeah right, like that’s ever going to happen. He couldn’t continue to pine away like a lovesick moron for another year, he just couldn’t. He knew she cared about him, or at least, she would if she gave herself permission to, he just needed to nudge her in the direction he hoped they’d take together.

  They had essentially become best friends. He was waffling on whether it was a more appropriate comparison that she was like his guy buddy or he was like her girlfriend. He settled on a perfect mix of the two. When he needed a buddy, either Stacy or John had become his go to pals. And when she needed, or rather, wanted a girlfriend, he was her girl.

  Dax had always been tight with Walker, and they still were, but Walker grew closer to his wife and daughter, as he should, and he grew closer to the Roberts siblings. With Stacy, it was a special bond.

  With every piece of pizza she scarfed down with abandon, he fell deeper. Every beer she guzzled and belched like a biker, his heart was lost. Every time she looked at him with that serious vibe resonating in her blue eyes that made him think she was on the edge of telling him some secret she kept hidden, she laid claim to him.

  It was a major risk. If she didn’t or wouldn’t allow herself to feel for Dax, it could blow-up in a big way and affect a lot of people. The last thing Dax wanted was to cause those he cared about any pain whatsoever, so he had already played it safe for a year. Screw that. Nobody ever got anything great by playing it safe.

  Dax was so lost in his thoughts and the clang of the hammer on metal, he let himself be snuck up on. “Knock, knock.” A shiver coursed its way through his body as that sensual voice broke through his internal pep talk. Superman’s kryptonite toe jam, he’d sell his soul to the fucking devil to hear it in the morning, every morning, after a long night of passion. Dax let his mind wonder what it would sound like while she stretched with the grace of a lioness, sporting only a smile and his cotton sheet, which would slip down to her waist as…

  Snapping out of his dirty thoughts, he flipped the switch, shutting down the heat source, released his tools to the anvil, and grabbed a towel. Dax turned toward her while he mopped sweat from his body and drank in her beauty before speaking.

  “Hey, you. Sorry about that, but I expected you earlier, and when you didn’t show, I figured something came up. Decided to get some stuff done.” Dax turned and tossed the towel onto his workbench, exchanging it for his shirt. As he donned it, he witnessed what he thought was lust, at least he hoped it was, flash across her rosy cheeks before she schooled her features.

  “Sorry, but I had some stuff pop up earlier. Couldn’t be helped.” Unsticking herself from the entrance, she stepped tentatively into his forge building. She took in her surroundings with a cataloguing gaze. At least it looks like she appreciates what she sees. “Wow, this is, well, it’s just, wow. John said this was back here, but I’ve never been past your workshop. Interesting,” Stacy said as she made to trail her finger along the hot bricks. Dax grabbed her wrist before she made contact.

  “Careful. It’s hotter than Hell. Not as hot as a traditional forge, but still enough to melt your skin.” His touch lingered as he allowed his thumb to gently caress her pulse. It was a rhythm he felt so in-tune with, so much so, he was positive when their bodies joined, they would sync together and it would become the tune he heard from within. Jesus, Dax, how much credit did you get when you traded in your cock for a vagina?

  Her baby blues darted to where Dax’s thumb was still sliding lazily back and forth over the silky smooth skin revealed as her loose watch dropped below her wrist. When her tongue darted out to wet her lips, Dax moaned aloud. Lucky for him, she didn’t give any indication that she heard it. If he thought the sight of her pink tongue licking her luscious lips sparked his imagination with the power of a nuclear detonation, he was about to experience a meltdown.

  Stacy leaned in to his personal space and placed the hand not held captive flat against his chest. When she peered up at him through her lashes seductively, his jeans shrunk five sizes. “I’m not one to fear the flames. I quite enjoy the heat.”

  As soon as the seductive look appeared, Dax was on the verge of dropping to his knees and begging her for everything he wanted. But it disappeared just as quickly and was replaced by that playful snarky demeanor he’d grown to love. This was the first time her seductive look was threaded with a thoughtful sincerity. She patted her hand against his chest and moved away, stating, “But I do thank you for protecting me from the burn.” She turned and pranced toward the door with that twinkle that made his knees weak.

  Dax was grateful for this little flirtation. It was common when they weren’t around those in the family who thought he should be with Gus. Not that it meant he was going to get his dick wet, which would be awesome, but seeing it today meant she had dealt with what she felt about his foreknowledge of Gus’ surrogacy. If he wasn’t mistaken, Dax detected a touch of seriousness in the last part of her statement.

  “Meet me in the house, I just need to put away a few things first.” His voice came out rough but timid.

  “Sure,” she answered before she sauntered out. Dax hated to see her leave, but he loved to watch her go, as the saying went. She was wearing yet another pair of heels that made a man wonder how the spikes would bite when digging into his ass. Or better yet, his shoulders. She really is one of a kind, Dax mused as he tidied up his work area. Most people think she’s a stone-cold bitch, because she knows what she wants and goes for it, but I know better. She was snarky, and yes, at times that came off bitchy, but she wasn’t at all, unless you were facing her in a courtroom. She was funny and beautiful and…I love the hell out of her.

  That was the first time he admitted the depth of his feelings to himself and it rocked him back on his heels. Now, he just needed to work on getting her into his life as more than a friend. Lucky for me, I know the first step. Most women will say the way to their heart is humor or honesty or kindness. All those things still applied to Stacy, but first and foremost, the way to her heart was through her sweet pussy. No, she wasn’t shallow, but she was a unicorn in that a
spect. Sex was an important part of who she would always be and damn it, he would give her the best night of her life, over and over until she realized she couldn’t live without his cock. Which, lucky for him, was attached, and that made it a package deal.

  Stacy was inundated with Dax the minute she entered the garage workshop. It was the same way each and every time, she didn’t even have to make it all the way into the house proper to feel Dax’s presence. It not only surrounded her, it entered her—through her lungs with each breath, and through her pores.

  To be that invaded by another person was disturbing. She wondered what it would be like in his bedroom—on his sheets, his pillow. It would probably be overwhelming. But you can’t wait to find out, can you? She wasn’t sure if that was Slutty, Bitchy, Mom Jeans, or Puppies who posed the question. Usually, their voices were unique enough to tell, even if their words were not. That alone was scary, she had always been distinctive in her internal bat shit crazy dialogue, but everything about this man usurped everything about her. Talk about scary. She promised herself two years, four months, and three days ago to never let anyone take over her life in any way, ever again. And she would fucking stick by that vow, come Hell or high water. Or, criminal exes or sexy tattoo artists, as it were.

  Stacy came to an abrupt halt, almost face-planting on an intricately carved…bedside table? Her breath arrested in her lungs as she took in the unbelievable details cut into the polished wood surface. It looked Celtic or Norse or something. Knowing Dax, it was Norse. It definitely had a mythological goddess vibe, all flowing locks and sexuality. The figure in the center of the top practically leapt off the surface and touched Stacy’s soul. The expression on the carvings face was knee-buckling. The figure’s loving gaze drifted right. It was as if her lover was there and the world revolved around him. The goddess had such freedom, to look upon something or someone that way, even someone unseen.