Chapter One
Tate
Evie’s arm wraps possessively through mine while we sit on the leather covered chairs and wait our turn. She’s always touching me, holding hands, a brush along my knee, or her arm against my forearm. I love it. Love that she unintentionally lets every person we meet know I belong to her as much as she owns me. But as much as I want our love etched for all eternity, I don’t want to rush her. “Evie, we don’t have to do this unless you want to. We can wait. If you’re having second thoughts—”
“No!” Her death grip on my bicep tightens.
“Babe. You’re gonna leave bruises.” I release a chuckle.
She follows my gaze to where her nails dig into my skin, and she loosens her hold. “Sorry. I guess I’m more nervous than I thought. But I’m not having second thoughts. I want this. To share this with you. And I love the thought of something so permanent. It’s better than my ring.” Her eyes snap up to meet mine and widen. “Not that I don’t love my ring!”
A smile pulls wide at my lips, and I tilt her face with my fingers so our gazes lock. “I know, Evie. I’m just making sure. You know I want this just as badly.” I dip my chin to whisper in her ear. “This ink is going to look so fucking sexy on your skin. I’m so turned on just thinking about it. As soon as we’re done, I’m taking you back home.”
She meets my lips in a soft, fleeting kiss. “I like the way you think, Mr. Reynolds.”
“I can’t wait to call you Mrs. Reynolds.”
She gives me her sweet smile. “Twenty-two days to go.”
“Not soon enough. Let’s elope,” I deadpan and she laughs, shaking her head.
“No way! Not after all the planning and deposits. Beside the fact our families would disown us, Kate and Jon would too if they weren’t part of our special day.”
“I know. I know.” And I want to celebrate with our loved ones. I only wish I’d had the foresight to set the date earlier. With each day that passes, my lips battle with my mind to resist the urge to call Evie my wife.
“Evie and Tate.” The shop manager calls out our names in a booming voice, drawing our attention to the wall behind the short registration counter and photographs of artwork behind it. “Dev is ready for you.”
I stand and lace my fingers with Evie’s, then lead her back to Dev’s station passing the charts of bangers and sample script. I’ve had lots of ink done over the years by several different artists, but Dev is this mountain of a man who’s really nothing but a big softy. I trust his work and have a feeling his charismatic demeanor will put Evie at ease since this is her first tattoo.
Dev stands from his chair. “Nice to see you, bro.” He’s got to be at least six foot five and fills the doorway with his frame. Evie is absolutely tiny next to him. “And I see the missus is getting work done, too.” He smiles at Evie and I can feel her body relax as she greets Dev.
We discuss what we want done, and she goes first. My eyes are captivated by each step, and the second the needle hits her skin I have to concentrate on keeping my dick in check. Fuck. That’s sexier than I ever imagined. Thank God Dev is a pro. We’ll be out of here soon and I can make love to my Evie.
Her tatt takes only a few minutes, the script of my name small and feminine. Mine requires more work—the piece is larger—and Dev fills it in with shading so the word Evelyn stands out amongst my other ink. Evie stands at my side, transfixed. Instead of watching Dev paint her name onto my forearm, my eyes are mesmerized by how she’s engrossed in the process. Her lips and brows pull with interest as Dev works.
Every second that ticks by fills me with more affection for her. From the way she glances at me to smile, to how she rubs tiny circles over the tension in my neck with her thumb. She’s playful, kind, and generous.
“I got off easy. Yours is so much bigger.” She nods at my latest tattoo after we leave Dev’s station.
“So much innuendo there, I don’t know where to go first.”
She shakes her head, a grin at her lips, and stops walking to push up on her toes and whisper in my ear, “Hmm . . . I say we should go home, yeah?”
Yeah. Yeah, we should.
When I don’t answer immediately she just laughs and struts to the front counter where Dev’s waiting for us to pay and review final care instructions. Like everything about Evie, her allure may not be flashy or overtly sexy, but I know exactly how beautiful the curves are that hide beneath her worn jeans and plain white tee. I shake my head, asking myself for the bazillionth time how I got so damn lucky. And how quickly I can get her home.
By the time I hand Dev his cash and we’re headed out to the car, I’m fighting a serious hard on. “Come here,” I say, pulling Evie into my arms and backing her up until she pushes into my car door. “Do you know how sexy you are?”
She giggles, kissing me long enough that her tongue sweeps against mine before tilting her chin up. “I’m guessing a lot.” She leans into me and I know she can feel my erection pressing into her belly through my jeans.
“So, so much.” My grin matches hers. “I love my name on your skin.”
“Take me home.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I kiss her once more and then walk around the car to open her door.
It’s only a fifteen-minute drive back to our house, but I make it in twelve. Between the heated glances Evie and I trade and the music she pipes through my stereo, it’s a miracle my foot doesn’t push straight through the floorboard.
As I slow to swing under the carport and park alongside her vehicle, I inhale slowly to calm my already rock hard dick. “Hey, babe?” I say, shutting the engine. Her hand’s already on the door.
“Yeah?”
“You have exactly one minute.”
Her brows pinch with confusion.
“One minute to get inside, take off your clothes, and make it to the bed.”
Her eyes widen and her breath comes faster with the hint of her smile. “Or else what?”
“If you don’t make it to the bedroom, I’ll probably make love to you wherever I find you. The kitchen. The living room. Hallway. Hell, much longer and I’ll fuck you right here.”
“Oh, car sex. That sounds exciting.” Her eyes sparkle, but she releases a little laugh. “Let’s do that on our honeymoon, when it’s a little darker outside. Preferably in the middle of nowhere.”
“Deal.” We’ve planned a road trip all along the West Coast, exploring from San Diego all the way up to Oregon. And like everything with Evie, a few promised words and she just made me love her more. “But for now…”
She glances down at the bulge in my jeans and bites her lip. “Sexy hide and seek. You’re it. Count.” She grins and with that she’s out of the car, unlocks the front door, and is inside the house before I can move a muscle.
Taking the full minute to calm my raging boner so I don’t come within seconds once I finally get inside her, I follow her out and arm the car alarm. Stepping inside the house, my lips pull wide at the music playing from the living room record player. One of Evie’s favorite albums, the artist crooning about love and happy ever afters—it’s a song we’ve made love to on more than one occasion. I kick off my shoes, discard my shirt, and unbutton my jeans while I step forward to find her.
I don’t have far to go.
Fuck.
“Found me,” she says with a flirty pout, and she releases the clasp to her bra.
“Fuck.” This time I say it aloud because before me is the most beautiful woman to walk into my world, and she’s mine. All mine. Just as the name scrolled down her side pronounces. “You’re gorgeous. You know that, right?”
“That’s what you tell me.”
Her eyes stay trained on my hands as I push my pants and underwear down to my knees in one sweep, then shove them off the rest of the way and take three steps forward. I wrap my hands around her slim waist. “Caught you,” I whisper.
She nods and slides her arms around my neck as our lips meet in a rush.
As much as I want to enjoy this, savor the moment, I know I won’t last long, not when I’ve been imagining making love to her all afternoon. So instead I go with what I’ve got, and use my fingers to find her wet folds between her legs. Massaging around and over her clit while my lips battle with hers, I do everything I can to bring her there. She reaches for me with one hand, and her strokes up and down my cock only spur on my determination to make her come first. Between hurried kisses and anticipation, she’s right where I need her.
Backing her down the hallway, our lips still locked, we almost reach the bedroom door when I turn and drop to my knees.
“Oh yes, Tate,” she says as I spread her pussy wide and dip my chin to lick between her folds. “Yes, yes, please.” She moans and I assault her center with my tongue. Adding two fingers, I stroke in and out, increasing their pace along with that of my tongue brushing over her clit. Her orgasm crashes with little warning, my name on her lips as she shouts with her release. I’d stay here for hours but I have to get to work soon.
Standing once her pleasure subsides, I claim her lips for another kiss and hook my hands around her thighs to carry her the rest of the way to the bedroom.
“I love you, Evie,” I say between kisses.
“I love you, Tate,” she answers back.
Careful not to brush along her sensitive new ink, I sit on the edge of the bed and lay back. “Ride me, baby,” I say and she does. Grabbing my cock in one hand, she lines me up and sinks down on a groan. I love the way we fit together. Rocking those hips back and forth, over and over, it doesn’t take long before she’s close again, her walls tightening around my cock as it slides in and out.
My thumb finds her clit and I rub quick tiny circles while my other hand grabs her hip and encourages her not to stop. I’m so fucking close, but I’ll hold out as long as I can.
“That’s it. Yes. Right there,” she says, a softly spoken demand I don’t dare deny. My thumb moves faster, and the moment her body pulses with release I give in to my own orgasm. We stay connected. Together. I scoot back on the bed, delighting in the feel of her smooth skin against mine when she lays her cheek against my chest.
This. Right here. My reason for being. She’s the only home I’ll ever need.
Natalie Bennett is the creator of erotic stories that always come with a warning label. She writes about depraved alpha a**holes and women that love to hate them. Her books don’t follow any specific tropes, have no set word counts, and tend to deviate from traditional HEA’s.
Reading Renee 
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