Irrevocably Mine (Imagine Ink Book 3) (4 page)

“Wow,” Stacy breathed out and removed the cloth fully, unconsciously bringing it to her nose to inhale. She held it tucked under her chin while she drank in the sight it had hidden.

If she thought the other table was impressive, this one was fucking amazing. It was almost identical to the other one—same knotted multiple lines framing the top and gracing the legs in a continuous line and identical triple interlocking triangles and other symbols she knew nothing about, but was sure held deep meaning.

There were two exceptions that kept the tables from being identical twins. First, the starting or ending point of the lines. This one had the same abrupt halt, but on the upper left corner. The whipping motion of her head was like a spectator at Wimbledon—back and forth from the end of one and the beginning of the other and she realized, if the tables were slid together, where the corners kissed, the line would be truly endless.
I could walk around them all day and they would continue to loop back to one another. Fucking amazing.

She released her hold on the cloth with her left hand, but kept it tight in her right, and reached out toward the table top, stopping before contact. The only other difference was the center figure. It was a man…a god? Distinctly Norse, and most certainly a god. He bore that same loving gaze as did the goddess on the other table, but his was shifted left. Stacy’s head was back on a swivel, and she realized that these tables, as awesome as they were individually, would be unbelievable together. Not just as art.

They were an amazing representation of an unstoppable couple—a ruling pair of mythical deities who could conquer worlds. “What I wouldn’t give to be you…” she whispered. Her gaze and hand went to the goddess, “…and to have him,” her gaze drifted back to the god, but her touch lingered, “at my side.” Now, her full attention had turned back to the goddess. “I bet nothing will ever threaten you, will it, honey? Not with him around. You’re one lucky bitch…” Her voice trailed off but she continued her visual and physical contact with the figure on the table and lost herself in a flurry of what ifs.

Stacy was so lost in the fantasy of loving gods, kicking ass, and taking names, that she missed the fact she had an audience.

D
ax was caught off guard
, yet again, by Stacy’s striking beauty.
How can such a petite woman hold so much power over me? Me?
The guy who topped six feet in high school and sported facial hair since middle school, for crying out loud.
How? How can this be?

Dax was launching silent questions to himself right and left. Rapid-fire style, and all had the same answer.

Because you love her.

Everything about her had found its way under his skin and into his heart. With every minute in her presence, she owned a little bit more of him, body and soul. Dax knew it sounded ridiculous and sappy, hell, certifiable, but it didn’t make it any less true. If anyone believed in the whole “meant to be” bullshit, it was him. It was weird to think a grown-ass man could be head-over-heels gone for a woman he hadn’t kissed, made love to, or had a date with, but he was living proof that it could, indeed, happen.

In a way, he knew her better than his ex-old lady, and they lived under the same roof, slept in the same bed, and parented a kid together for eight years. Why? Because as stalkery as it sounded, Dax took the time to find out. It was damn near a biological need to know more and more about Stacy.

Not in the whole, “you complete me way,” that’s bullshit. No one can do that, people must be whole before they can ever give a piece of themselves away. It was because he had gifted her pieces of himself with every flirtation between them, every laugh she pulled from his soul, and every caring look she fed it.
And here I stand, watching her appreciate my work, knowing that I will never be whole again if she decides to bolt, which is highly likely.

Her head darted back and forth between the tables.
Naughty girl.
She wasn’t supposed to see the other table. Seeing it meant an explanation would be expected as to why she wouldn’t be gifted the pair. And there really wasn’t one except,
because I love the hell out of you and even though it’s yours, it’ll be staying here, just like you will.
And Stacy was most definitely not the type to respond well to that. Dax blew out a breath and whispered, “If I think that’s the big explanation, I’m fooling myself, wait until she sees my bed.”
No, I’m not creepy at all.

Dax had almost convinced himself to pretend the table wasn’t meant for her and to show her the unfinished blade he was working on instead. It was small and could fit in one of her designer bags. It would be perfect for her and she would be none the wiser, but as “it-puts-the-lotion-on-its-skin” as he was sounding right now, he couldn’t be deceptive, nor was he a coward.

However, he wasn’t a masochist either, he could give her both and explain the rest later, after he won her over a little. Just as he was resigning himself to the possibility of waiting even longer to earn her love, she spoke—not to him, but to the carvings—and her words were bullets to his heart. What are bullets but ammunition? Ammunition he needed to blast his way through that impenetrable fortress she’d erected around her heart.

Time to take aim and fire.

“Do you know who she is?” Stacy jumped a foot off the ground as Dax’s voice cut through the air and reverberated off the walls. He hadn’t intended to speak so loudly.

“Shit, Dax, you scared the living daylights out of me. Warn a lady next time, will ya?” The hand still gripping the drop cloth flew to her heart as she turned and scolded him. There was a touch of fear and a question in her eyes.
Is she afraid I heard her?
Yep
, Dax was sure that’s what it was. He could spare her and pretend he didn’t but he was done pretending, done waiting, and done walking on eggshells for fear of spooking her. It was time to go for it or move on. He refused to continue in the state he had existed. This was so not who he was, but she did crazy things to him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, but the door was open, and…” Dax approached her and reached for the cloth at her chest, pulling it down until she released it. Once it was a puddle of dirty white canvas on the floor, he touched her nose playfully, then leaned down into her face until he felt her breath. “It is my house.”

Dax left her personal space and approached the table, tracing the flowing garment of the goddess; he divided his attention between her and Stacy. Just because he decided to speak some truths, didn’t mean he had to intimidate her with direct eye contact. She would probably handle it better if he was a bit stealthy as he covertly studied the reactions to his words.

“This is Syn. It is said that she guards the door to Frigg’s great hall, barring entry to the unworthy. Some accounts call her the goddess of justice, watchfulness, truth, and doorways. Defender of the weak. No matter which account you believe, there is no denying that she is one badass bitch with a heart for those who need her. So, while she doesn’t need any man to protect her, she might want one. And wanting one doesn’t make her weak, hell, she defends the weak, remember?” Dax caught the shock and something else flash in her beautiful blue orbs before she let the other meaning of his words sink in; he’d heard her moment of exposure, one she obviously saw as weakness. It was a risk, he took it, and it wasn’t exactly paying off as of yet, but he was going all-in.

Indicating toward the other table, he brought his gaze directly to Stacy. He needed to get through to her. “So, while she doesn’t
need
a man, I decided to give her one. This is Vidar. One of the strongest of the gods, he’ll survive Ragnarok. So, who better to lean on when times get tough than the son of Odin and a giantess?” Dax approached Stacy, not breaking eye contact the entire time. He cupped her cheeks with a bit more force than he intended, but he was in it to win it and wasn’t one hundred percent in possession of his control. Turning her face up to his, he almost lost it when he saw the glimmer in her eyes that could only be tears and a touch of comprehension.

“So see, the tables belong together. Not because they can’t function alone, but because they are undeniably beautiful as a pair.” With that, he lowered his lips to hers in a gentle peck. He didn’t close his eyes, because he refused to miss any hint that she did not want his kiss. Pulling away slightly, attempting to get a read on her, Dax almost lost his soul when her lips remained as they were before he kissed her. He dropped his hands and sighed in defeat.
At least, I tried.
As his heart fractured, it began flooding his system with poison. Poison that, if he were lucky, would stop its beat, its unbearably agonizing beat.

He turned to go, but Stacy grabbed his bearded cheeks, brought his face down toward hers, and crushed his lips with hers, demanding entrance with an insistent tongue. As comprehension was dawning, she wrapped her legs around his waist and Dax just managed to catch her before she slid back down his body. He returned her kiss with an intensity he didn’t know he had, using his hands on her ass to grind her pelvis into his.
Is this really happening? Oh gods, please don’t let it be a dream. And if it is, I don’t want to wake up.

Dax turned and practically ran into his house, not even bothering to close the door. With her wrapped around his body, he was in Heaven, but he wanted to be inside her, now. Making a beeline to the bedroom, their lips never parted, but their moans played a soundtrack that Dax could listen to on a loop and be a happy man doing it.

At long last, he arrived in his bedroom. It took a year to make the trip, but it was worth it. He deposited her on the bed and disengaged his body from hers in an attempt to remove as many barriers between them as soon as possible, but he stalled with a toe in a shoe and his hands on the button of his jeans. This, this sight, was one he had dreamt of for a freaking year. Stacy, in his bed. Dax just stood there like a statue, drinking it into his soul. The only thing that would make it better was if she were naked.

Stacy spoke, snapping him out of his stupor and pushing him into action.

I
f Stacy thought
her head was swimming from his words in the garage, the sight of his body absolutely intoxicated her. Leaping on to him like a baby koala wasn’t planned on her part, it was a compulsion of some sort. All the talk about kick-ass goddesses not
needing
a man but still kind of needing one just did her in. It was a secret dream that sparked to life deep inside—to have a man, want a man, who understood that he was supplemental to a woman’s life and not the center of it was a potent aphrodisiac. But the irony of it all? A man who understood that truth actually could become the center, and as much as that scared the ever-loving-fuck out of her, it spoke to a part she kept under lock and key.

Leaning up on her elbows, Stacy questioned, “Why did you stop? You don’t plan on leaving your clothes on much longer, do you?” It wasn’t like Stacy hadn’t seen his inked and ripped chest before, but this time was different. She wanted to savor it.

As she devoured him with her gaze, he spoke, “No babe, I don’t. I’m just enjoying looking at you, lying there in my bed with hunger for me in your eyes.” A lick of her lips was all it took to convey her enjoyment of his body. That must have slowed him down. If he was going too fast before, now he was stripping painfully slow.

“Tease.”

The answering smile he gifted her with was orgasmic. He knew exactly what the sight of his body did to her and that pissed her off. It did until his shirt was finally gone and he was lowering his jeans.

It was too dark to get the full show, but it was enough to turn her pants of anticipation to those of appreciation.

When her lips had met his in the garage,
Slutty
reached down, mentally removed her underwear, and sang,
“You won’t be needing these.
” As much as she hated it, it was true. Once his taste exploded on her tongue, she admitted to herself that she would not be leaving this house until she knew what it felt like to have that flavor inside of her.