Page 38 of Embraced in Ink

Marcus snorted. “I’m pretty sure everybody always knew you were always available.”

“I don’t know if you’re trying to clap back at me with that or not, but I’m going to take it as a compliment. Everyone does know my prowess.”

“Please don’t sayprowessagain,” Liam said, shaking his head.

“Seriously. Never again.” Ethan shivered.

“Hey. All I’m saying is that in the last book I read, prowess is a big thing.”

“Stop saying prowess,” Lincoln grumbled.

“And for someone who reads the number of romance books that you do, you seriously don’t understand women,” Ethan said.

“And you do?” Lincoln asked his lover.

Ethan grinned. “Holland thinks so.”

“Okay,” Lincoln said, a sarcastic note to his tone.

“I don’t like your tone, mister.”

“You can deal with it later,” Lincoln practically purred. Marcus closed his eyes, holding back a laugh.

There had been threats, sure, but they were good-natured. No one was digging, as if they’d always known this was inevitable. Were he and Bristol inevitable? He’d like to think so. Only, sometimes, he wasn’t sure. Mostly because he hadn’t let himself think about it.

He wasn’t going to mess this up, though. He couldn’t. Not only because of the people in this room, and what they would do if he did. No, he wouldn’t mess this up because he wanted Bristol. There, he’d said it. He wanted her. He wanted to see who they could be together, and what would happen if they took that next step. When they did.

Because tomorrow they would go on a date, and he would be with her. And while they might be going about this relationship backward, they were still making it work.

And he wouldn’t let his insecurities hurt her or make the Montgomerys want to take vengeance out on him.

Because the Montgomerys were family, they were steady. Just like he had always thought he was with Bristol.

And so, he was going to make sure that happened. No matter what.

Chapter 9

What did one wear for your first date with your fiancé, when said fiancé was also your best friend and had been in your life for twenty-four years?

“Not what you’re wearing, Bristol Montgomery.”

She pulled off her top and stood there in black pants and her bra, wondering when she had lost her mind. Oh, probably around ten years ago when she asked her friend and confidante to marry her out of the blue.

And the fact that she kept talking to herself meant that she was beyond the point where she could bring back her sanity. Which was fine, artists were allowed to lose their minds. It helped them create. It assisted with their art.

And if she gagged as she thought that, she didn’t blame herself.

What to wear, what to wear.

She pulled off her pants, leaving her in a lacy bra and matching panties. They were new, and totally fuck-me-against-a-door underwear, and she had no idea if they were going to be used tonight.

Was she going to sleep with Marcus? She didn’t know. The thought sent shivers through her body, and her stomach clenched. Not to mention her pussy that went wet at the thought.

Well then, apparently, since dream Marcus was very good with his hands, his mouth, and that meaty cock of his, perhaps she hoped real Marcus was the same way.

She really had to stop thinking the phrasemeaty cockbecause that sounded weird for anyone other than dream Marcus.

She would not say that to his face, though.