Inked Obsession by Carrie Ann Ryan

Chapter 19

Eliza

Ifrowned at the email from my in-laws and quickly shut down my browser. They wanted to talk to me. Not to apologize for springing life-altering ramifications on me out of the blue in public, but because they wanted money. They wanted to help the woman they had desired as their daughter—not the one they’d gotten.

I couldn’t deal with any of that right now. I had no idea what I was doing and what I would do when it came to Natasha and her daughter. I’d deal with it later.

Something I kept telling myself.

Instead of dwelling on my unfaithful—and apparently, doomed—marriage, I had spent the morning working on designs for a client and was now getting ready for my date.

A date with Beckett Montgomery.

I still wasn’t sure how that had happened, but I couldn’t go back now. In many respects, there was no going back to the way things were, or even the new normal I’d created.

Now, there was a new-new normal that looked as if I’d fallen off a cliff, but I might as well figure out what I wanted.

At least, that was what I told myself. Tonight, I would figure out if going on a date with Beckett Montgomery was what I needed, or a horrible mistake. He was still my friend, and there was something more there. Something I’d been ignoring for a long time.

I didn’t want to ignore it anymore. I wanted to see if the way we were with each other was because of the vacation atmosphere or because of what we could be.

And, at the same time, I would try not to think about any of it too hard. Because, somehow, all of this would work. Or I would stress myself out to the point where I couldn’t focus.

I swallowed hard and pulled myself away from my laptop. And then I told myself that thinking too hard about anything—about Beckett, the Montgomerys, my brothers and their new lives, and Marshall’s issues—needed to be put on the back burner. At least, for now. I could think about the future and what everything meant later.

For now, I’d try not to throw up because I was super stressed about my date with Beckett.

I checked my reflection and touched up my lipstick. I had gone with a flowing black wrap dress, similar to the one I had worn on vacation, but this one was different. It had long sleeves that belled out slightly at the wrists with a slight ruffle that matched the one at mid-thigh. It showed off my breasts, but not too much. I had on strappy, sandal heels and wore very cute underwear. As in the sexiest pieces I now owned because I wasn’t going to wear sexy lingerie that anyone else had seen. I had tossed those, anything that Marshall had ever touched, actually, because I didn’t want to be that person anymore. I was on a new path now. Whatever that meant.

I wore the sexy underwear for myself. And for Beckett. He had already touched and tasted and licked every single inch of me. We might even be having sex tonight. It might be a foregone conclusion, or it may not happen at all. I didn’t know. Regardless, I didn’t want to be stuck in my comfy cotton panties the first time we had sex in Colorado.

Which now that I thought about it, sounded very odd. We’d had sex before. We might have sex again. And if we did, he was going to get a look at my new sexy underwear.

And now I needed a paper bag to hyperventilate into.

I touched up my bold red lipstick and finger-combed my hair. This was all he was going to get. But I looked damn hot.

Even if I was nervous as hell.

The doorbell rang, and I swallowed hard. There was no turning back now. I went to the door, grabbed my bag and my wrap on the way, and opened it to reveal Beckett standing there. He wore a smoky gray button-down shirt, dark gray slacks, and looked fucking hot.

Why had I missed that for so long? Oh, yes. Because I had been married and had told myself I wasn’t allowed to look at anyone else, even though it shouldn’t have been a big deal since I’d told Beckett he was allowed to find married women attractive. I had been a good wife. But I wasn’t married anymore. And I really wanted Beckett Montgomery.

“Wow,” he muttered as his gaze raked over me. I swore I could feel his gaze on my skin as if he caressed me with his hands. I swallowed hard, my knees practically shaking.

“Wow,” I echoed, and he smiled at me.

“You look amazing,” he muttered.

“I would say the same thing about you, but then I’d just keep repeating what you say.”

A cool breeze shifted over us, and I stepped back instinctively. I knew we needed to go, but I couldn’t, not just yet. He stepped in, and I closed the door behind him.

He looked at me, his gaze dark as he bit his lip. I nearly came. His forearms were even showing, goddamn it. Why were his forearms so sexy?

He looked at me, and then his lips were on mine. My bag fell to the floor, the wrap pooling at my feet. He kissed me hard, and I was grateful that I had put on lipstick that wouldn’t smudge, no matter what he did. His tongue dipped into my mouth, and I groaned. I pulled on his shirt, my fingernails digging into his muscles. He cupped my ass and lifted me. I let out a squeal, and then I kissed him hard again. Before I knew it, my back was against the door, and I was shaking, his body pressed against mine, the hard ridge of his cock firm against my heat.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“I thought we were going out,” I muttered, and he winked.

“We will. After.”

I swallowed hard. “After.”

And then he kissed me again.

My body shook as he rocked into me. Both of us were clothed, but my dress was up around my hips, and his hands were digging into my thighs. He would leave bruises, and I would like them.

He rocked against me, and then I was tugging at his belt. He grinned, bit my lip, and then licked my shoulder where it was exposed as he held my ass in one hand, pressing me against the door as he helped me undo his belt with his other hand and then shoved his pants down.

“I’m on birth control,” I muttered. “And clean.” I had gotten tested just in case, and everything had come up clear.

He nodded, his pupils going wide. “I’m clean, too.”

And then he shoved my panties aside and delved. I came, my whole body shaking just from his fingers inside me. He stroked his thumb over my clit, and I shook. And then he was ripping my panties away, and his cock was inside me. He speared me with one thrust, and I met his gaze, both of us shaking.

“Dear God.”

“Fuck me,” I muttered. “Please.”

“Anything you say.”

And then he moved. He rammed into me, harder and harder. I braced one arm on his shoulder, my other palm against the door, keeping me steady as he fucked me hard.

We both shook, and I knew my heels would likely leave marks on his body, just as he would leave marks on mine, and I didn’t care. I wanted his touch; I wanted his mark. I wanted everything.

It had never been like this before, and I could barely breathe.

Because this was the man I desired, for here, for now. I didn’t know about forever, but I didn’t care.

Because, right now, Beckett was inside me, and I was coming again. Hard. He slammed into me one more time, his thumb on my clit, and then he came, filling me with his seed. He was warm and hot, and his mouth was on me, and I really couldn’t breathe.

I wrapped my body around him, shaking as I looked down at him.

“Whoa.”

“Hello,” he said, teasing.

“That was not what I was expecting,” I panted.

“Not at all. But damn.”

I looked at him then and smiled. “Okay, then.”

He kissed me gently, carefully sliding his hands down my body as he slid out of me and lowered me to the floor. He kept kissing me as he picked me up again, cradling me to his body as he carried me to the kitchen and set me down once more. Then he reached for a towel and began cleaning us both. No words were spoken, just the careful touches and kisses from a man fully sated and in control.

I was lost for him, and I had no idea how it had happened so quickly.

He pushed my hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “I’m really glad I came over.”

“I thought you were taking me to dinner.”

“Yes, but I wanted a taste first.”

He kissed me again, and I knew I was lost.

We cleaned each other up, and I knew my hair and my swollen lips probably looked like I had just been fucked, but I had, so I didn’t care.

I put on another set of panties, a little sad about the ones I had just lost.

“To dinner?” he asked, clearing his throat.

“Yes,” I whispered.

Because it couldn’t only be about sex. Not when he was also my friend.

But hell, what a way to begin the evening.

We madeour way to the restaurant, my heart still pounding from the feeling of Beckett touching me, being with me. Every once in a while, he looked at me, and we would just pause in what we were saying. I knew he was likely thinking about what had just happened, too.

We pulled into the parking lot, and he turned off the car before looking at me again. That was Beckett. He always gave you his full attention, even if you knew he had to be thinking of a thousand other little things because he had so much on his plate. His family, his business, and a very traumatic incident that I knew still hurt him, even if he felt a bit lighter about it now. All of that was there, and he still gave those he cared about all of himself. Just like he was doing with me now.

“We didn’t talk,” he said, and I winced.

“No. We didn’t. There wasn’t much talking needed at first.”

He looked at me then, and I wanted to reach out, do something. But I also knew if I leaned forward, we would probably end up having sex in the car and likely get arrested. This was so unlike me. Maybe I was moving too fast. I needed to focus. I needed to do exactly what Beckett was doing.

Focusing.

“I don’t know what I want, Beckett,” I said.

“I know,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I want, either.”

“Is this our first or our second date?” I asked, letting out a hollow laugh.

“I don’t know. It’s our first date here, but I think dinner out more than once at the beach counted as dates. Don’t you?”

“Considering we’ve already slept together more than once; I’m going to go with yes.”

His lips quirked into a tiny smile before he shook his head. “I don’t know where my head is, Eliza. It should be here, and it is in some respects. But I don’t know what I’m supposed to want. I wasn’t expecting you. I wasn’t expecting this.”

That brought a laugh out of me. “And you think I was expecting this? I went to that beach to try to figure out what I needed to do with my future. And then you were there, and things just clicked. I don’t know what I want for the future. I was already married, Beckett. I thought I was happy. Not too long ago, I’d just started thinking about maybe dating again. Nothing serious. But here we are, and you’re my friend, Beckett. It’s always going to be more than just casual with us. Do you get that?”

“Of course, I do. That’s why I kept telling myself I shouldn’t want you. But here we are. I want you, Eliza. I don’t want to not want you. But I also know that women need labels.”

“That’s sexist,” I growled. “You’re the one who brought it up. Clearly, you’re the one who needs labels.”

He sighed. “You’re right. I do. Maybe. Or perhaps we can just say that we’re taking this slowly.”

“Beyond having sex with one another?” I said dryly.

“Sex is serious. I’ve never been one to sleep around.”

“I know that, Beckett.” Even though him reaffirming it in my mind warmed me inside.

“Sex is serious, but we can be serious in our intent about it.”

“If it doesn’t work anymore, if we find that we’re better off as friends, then we walk away and continue our friendship—and stop looking at each other like we want to rip each other’s clothes off.”

He shook his head, a smile playing on his face. “Exactly. You have a way with words.”

“Not always.”

“Well, with me, you do.”

“Okay, then. We’re going to go in there, and we’re going to eat some amazing food. I’m not going to just eat a salad and pretend I don’t eat.”

“Please, get something that you want. It’s probably going to be good and I’ll want to steal some off your plate.”

“We can get a plate of fries for the table,” I added, and he laughed.

“I saw that in a movie once. I like the idea.”

“That way, we always have fries, and we never have to steal those off each other’s plates—even if we’re in a fancy French restaurant. They have the best shoestring fries.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Again, read it in a book. Or was it a movie? As for us, this, I don’t know exactly what I want, Beckett. Things are going really fast. Maybe too fast.”

“Then we take a step back.”

Cold seeped through me. “How far?”

“Our families know that we slept together because we can’t keep secrets.”

“We don’t want to,” I corrected.

“True. And because they’re Montgomerys, and Lee and Brenna count as Montgomerys.”

“True,” I echoed with a laugh.

“Well, since they are Montgomerys, they’re going to be in our business. But we don’t have to let it become more than this.”

“So we date, we hang out. We’ll be each other’s people for things to do when we’re not horribly busy.”

“And you can talk to me. Because I know there are things on your mind.”

Marshall and his family filled my thoughts. Same with my brothers. I swallowed hard.

“I need to talk with the girls. But, yes, it’d be nice to have someone else to talk to.” I let out a breath. “And you can talk to me. About anything. Everything. You need to talk to someone, Beckett.”

“I know. And I will. I’ve already talked to you more than anyone recently. And that is just sad.”

“You’re doing better.”

“I’m trying.”

“Okay, then we figure out what we want. Slowly. But there’s no promises, other than we don’t hurt each other. I don’t know what I want beyond that, Beckett.”

“Same,” he said, and I didn’t know why it twisted something inside me that we wanted this to be our version of casual. Or maybe it was the promise that couldn’t be broken because there were no deep promises within it other than the care for one another’s feelings.

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say. But it didn’t matter. Because I would figure it out. I was a new me. I wasn’t only a window. I was someone figuring out what they wanted in life. I smiled at Beckett, and then something caught my attention out the window.

I blinked, and cold washed over me.

Two people that I knew very well, that never really liked me, walked hand in hand, a little girl at their side along with a striking woman with rose-gold hair that flowed down her back. She laughed at something the little girl said.

Marshall’s parents.

And their granddaughter.

And Natasha.

They were here. In real life. This wasn’t a dream.

They were going into the restaurant I was supposed to go into with Beckett, and nothing made sense. What was that odd ringing sound in my ears? Why couldn’t I breathe?

“Eliza? Eliza.”

“Can you take me home?” I whispered, my voice hollow. I wanted to leave. I wanted to get under my covers and hide. Because it was either that or scream at a woman in front of her child and probably scare everybody within a thirty-mile radius.

Because that was Natasha. The woman my husband had loved. The woman my husband had impregnated and hid from me. That was the woman and the daughter my in-laws loved. And they were going out for a family evening. And here I was, sitting in a car, wondering if I could even make a promise.

“Eliza. Talk to me. Do I need to take you to a hospital? What’s wrong?”

“Please, just take me home. I just need to go.”

He turned to look, his gaze narrowing.

“Is that…?”

“Please. I need to go home.”

“Okay. I’ve got you.” He started the car and reached out and gripped my knee. I held onto his wrist, using him as my lifeline. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

The little girl was real. I had seen the photos. And Marshall’s parents had told me. My brothers had confirmed. Everybody had told me that the little girl existed, and here she was. And she was so cute. She laughed, and she was old enough to talk and walk and do all those things that real-life human children did.

Marshall’s love child was real.

And she looked so much like him.

Marshall’s parents hadn’t even stopped to think about me. No, I was just the woman standing in the way of everything they had ever wanted. And, somehow, things were supposed to make sense? But they didn’t. Nothing would ever make sense. I would never make sense.

Somehow, in the quiet, we pulled into my driveway, and I staggered out. Beckett was there, holding my hand, and I hoped to God that Annabelle and Jacob weren’t looking outside right now to see me. Maybe they would think I was drunk, and Beckett was walking me inside.

But I was too numb to drink. To numb to do anything.

“Eliza. You’re scaring me. Do I need to get Annabelle?”

I shook my head, my keys falling out of my hand as I tried to unlock the door. He held me around the waist, bent down slightly to pick up the keys, and let us in. He closed the door behind him, the same one we’d just had sex against. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Was that Marshall’s…I don’t know what to call her?”

“Yes, that was Marshall’s lover and his child. And his parents. The people he loved but didn’t provide for in the will,” I growled out.

“Eliza.”

“There was nothing in the will, Beckett. Nothing. He was overseas in combat. They constantly redo their wills, and he did nothing for that. He didn’t acknowledge her, and yet maybe he did because he introduced her to his parents. So, what am I? Was he laughing at me every time he looked at me, knowing I would never bear his child? Knowing we would never have a biological child together? Did he laugh at me when we decided that we were going to adopt, all the while knowing he had a child of his own?”

As soon as I let the words fall from my mouth, I pressed my lips together and looked at Beckett. I hadn’t meant to say any of that. Not really. I had just confessed to the guy I was semi-dating, the guy I had just slept with that I most likely couldn’t have children.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t do anything. “Please, go,” I whispered. “Just go.”

He looked at me then, but he didn’t leave.