Inked Persuasion: A Montgomery Ink: Fort Collins Novel Read online

  We said our goodbyes, making sure we said, “I love you.” It had been something that Jonah had always ensured we did, no matter what. As we left the conversation, we had to tell each other that. Even if we were exhausted or fighting, we had to say it. Because the words were true, and you never knew when they would be your last.

  And on that melancholic note, I slid my phone into my jeans’ pocket and went to get the tools from my garage. I opened the big door and walked out to my flowerbed and looked down at the project in front of me. Whoever had moved in before me had put in a bunch of mini rose bushes and a fern thing that I didn’t know the name of. I had no idea what I was doing with them and would probably end up hiring someone, but I needed to do something with my hands now, and this was it.

  I moved to my hands and knees and pulled out some weeds—at least I hoped they were weeds—scowling at the things. How was it that they’d popped up so quickly? The real estate agent had said they had taken care of the house right before I moved in, and when I visited the place a couple of times, the weeds weren’t here. I swore they grew overnight.

  “Be careful of the plant right next to where you’re pulling. That’s an actual flower that will bloom for you every year. You also have tulip bulbs that will spawn for you, even though Colorado winters sometimes mean they’ll come to life in February or late-June.”

  I looked over at the sound of Annabelle’s voice, my gut tightening. It wasn’t because I hated her. No, that had been a lie I’d told myself for far too long. It was because she did something to me—something I shouldn’t feel.

  She walked over, her feet bare in flip-flops, her toes painted a light pink. She had on torn-up jeans and a layered tee-shirt that made her look like she was young enough to be in college, and not a woman with a full-time job as a business owner.

  Or a woman who was also a widow. I needed to stop thinking about her. She was Jonah’s, not mine.

  “This?” I asked, pointing my tool at the flower thing.

  “It’ll be beautiful. And there’s no maintenance other than making sure you don’t stab it as you’re taking care of the weeds.” Annabelle went to her knees beside me, her thigh brushing mine. I swallowed hard, annoyed with myself. “Here, come on, let me help.”

  “You don’t have to. Just tell me what to do.”

  “I just pulled out my weeds. Now, I’m going to tell you how to do yours without massacring the whole thing.”

  She gently shoved me out of the way, and I fell to my side, laughing.

  “You’re violent,” I accused.

  “Perhaps. But you deserved it. Okay, now do you have trimmers?”

  “Like for a tree?”

  She rolled her eyes, her smile wide. “No, for a bush. The little ones that snap together so you can trim?”

  I shook my head. “No, I didn’t have those at my other place.”

  “Okay, I have some. We’ll get it done.”

  “You don’t have to help me, Annabelle. I can buy trimmers.”

  “You can, and you will. But first, I’m going to teach you how to help your garden, although I am surprised you haven’t hired someone.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know who to hire.”

  “Benjamin doesn’t do many smaller jobs anymore, but he can always add you to his rotation if you want. Or I can put you in touch with someone else.”

  I frowned. “Your brother?”

  She nodded. “He’s a landscape architect. He’s brilliant and works on projects for small homes, neighborhoods, and also giant gardens that are part of the Montgomery purview, but not necessarily projects that all of the other family members work on.”

  “How is it working with your siblings? It has to be a lot.”

  “It’s interesting. Most of us get along all the time, and we have a new member of the team that works in the building with us. Clay. He is sort of like a son to one of my cousins.”

  “That sounds like a story.”

  “A very long one that’s not mine to tell. But my cousin, Storm, down in Denver, has been friends with Clay for a while. When Clay graduated college and was looking for a job, Storm and Beckett talked, and then Clay moved up here with his three cousins.”

  “I guess it pays to know a Montgomery.”

  “We will rule the world one day. Although I think it’s just in terms of numbers,” she said on a laugh. “Okay, now let me get those clippers, and I’ll show you what you need to do.” She stood up and wiped her palms on her pants. I tried not to notice how her jeans encased her ass, but damn it, it was right there. I could reach out and touch her. Though I wouldn’t because that would be wrong.

  What was wrong with me?

  She walked into her garage, and I swallowed hard and focused on dealing with my mulch, pressing it down and moving it around even though I had no idea what I was doing yet.

  “Hey there,” a man said from behind me. I started and turned around.

  He had a kind smile, bright eyes, and stood with his hands on his hips.

  “You must be the new neighbor. I’m Hotch.”

  He held out his hand, and I looked up at it, awkwardly standing to shake it. “Jacob.”

  “Welcome to the neighborhood. I’m on the other side of Annabelle. Glad we’re sandwiching her, you know? A woman living alone and all that. Nice to make sure she’s safe.”

  My brows rose. “I guess so. Though I’m pretty sure she can take care of herself.”

  Hotch laughed. “Oh, she can. And one day, she will go out with me.”

  “Hotch,” Annabelle said, rolling her eyes. “Stop pestering Jacob.”

  “I was just trying to pester you since I saw you coming. Anyway, I’m headed over to work with Builders for Humanity. We’re building some homes on the other side of 25.”

  I nodded, remembering the sign for the project site when I’d moved here. “I saw that when I drove up. It looks like a worthwhile effort.”

  “Should be. I thought you were working on it today,” Hotch mentioned, and Annabelle shook her head.

  “No, we were on it last weekend. I’ll be working on it in another two weeks, I think.” She looked over at me. “My family and I regularly donate where we can, and we alternate who can work on the main project. It’s my day off today, so I’m trying to catch up on my household chores, but I think Clay is down there, representing the family.”

  She smiled as she said it, and I found it nice that she considered someone who worked with her family like I did with my staff.

  “Well, we’re going to miss you. Have a great day. Nice to meet you, Jacob.”

  Hotch waved and then headed back to his house, taking the sidewalk so as not to walk on our lawns.

  “Nice guy,” I said, frowning.

  “You said that, yet you’re practically scowling. Hotch’s a good guy. He’s just friendly.”

  “Why did you snarl when you said friendly?”

  “I have no idea. I’m friendly. I like people. But Hotch has like…an emphasis on friendly. I once thought about setting him and Paige up because I felt like their energies would match, but then she met Colton, and I figured if it didn’t work out, I didn’t want my neighbor and my sister to have dated.”

  “Yeah, that would probably be a bad idea. Plus, I’m pretty sure he has the hots for you, and that would be awkward.”

  “I’m not dating him either. You think having a sister dating your neighbor’s bad? I am never going to date my neighbor.” She winced and then beamed at me. “Sorry.”

  “Ouch,” I said. I wondered why that dig hurt. I didn’t want her to date me. Maybe I needed to start adding Bailey’s Irish cream to my coffee in the morning on the weekends. I was losing my damn mind.

  “Okay, let’s get to work.”

  “You do not have to help me.”

  “I’m in the mood, and I’m being nice. It’s a neighborly thing. You can make me lunch.”

  I laughed. “I was just telling my dad that I can’t cook. I can probably make you a pasta salad from a
box. Will that work?”

  “That sounds lovely. I love pasta. Even though I probably shouldn’t have it.”

  My gaze traveled down her curves, and I cleared my throat and then met her eyes. Her pupils dilated, and she licked her lips.

  Hell, she’d caught me looking. And it seemed she liked it.

  Again, what was wrong with me?

  “You can eat as much pasta as you want,” I muttered and shook my head. “Anyway, let’s get to gardening.”

  “And you can tell me how your parents are doing, I was going to call them earlier, but I hate bugging them.”

  We both went down to our hands and knees again and worked on the garden. I shook my head. “I don’t think you could ever be a bother to them, Annabelle.”

  She froze for a second before tilting her head at me. “That is a sudden change of heart,” she said carefully.

  “I’m trying, Annabelle. Not doing a perfect job of it, but I’m trying.”

  She smiled, swallowed hard, and we both went back to work.

  By the time we were done gardening, we were covered in dirt, laughing, and we had done her backyard, mine, and my front yard—she had already worked on her front yard by the time I came outside. And now I knew way too much about gardening.

  I hated it.

  “I’m going to call your brother. I know he probably won’t work on my yard because he hates me, but he has to know somebody I can use.”

  Annabelle laughed as she washed her hands in the sink while I started the water to boil for the pasta.

  “He doesn’t hate you.” She paused. “Okay, he might a little, but he’ll like you when he gets to know who you are now. I did, eventually.”

  “Okay, that hurt.”

  “Sorry, we’re just very good at that.”

  “It seems we are. Now, I have soda, water, and lemonade that I made to make my mom happy, but I don’t really drink it.”

  “If it’s still good, I’ll drink it,” Annabelle said, shaking her head. “And you know I was kidding about lunch. But now I’m starving, so thank you.”

  “I put you to work doing manual labor. I think the least I can do is feed you some semi-crunchy pasta.”

  “Maybe I should be making lunch,” she said on a laugh.

  “No, I can do this. I hope.”

  She laughed again and then moved out of the way so I could get her some lemonade. We made the pasta, and I cooled it down quickly while she stirred up the olive oil, water, and the seasoning packet. We mixed it all together, added cut-up chicken I had from some leftover takeout, and ended up with a decent lunch.

  “Hey, this is good,” she said. “Probably horrible for you and full of preservatives, but it’s been a while since I had one.”

  “Sometimes it just hits the spot when you don’t want to make food or grab a hamburger on your way home.”

  “Yes. I’m trying to do better about that, so I have lots of salad fixings at home all the time. But maybe I need to start keeping pasta salad fixings. I’m sure I could replicate that with my own seasonings.”

  “And now I think I’m even hungrier,” I said and practically devoured my half of the pasta.

  She ate her half, and we cleaned up, laughed, talked, and had a good evening.

  “Here, let me help you with the dishes,” she said, moving past me. Her skin brushed mine. I still had a hard time telling myself that it was only me. I saw the heat in her gaze, the way she bit her lip, and I wondered what was going on.

  The tension in the kitchen was palpable, yet I told myself I imagined it. But as my hand brushed against hers under the water, she didn’t move back. Instead, the sharp intake of her breath set me on edge.

  We put away the dishes, chatting, but I didn’t think either of us knew what we talked about. And then she turned to me, her mouth parted, and her eyes wide. “I think… I think maybe… I don’t know.”

  I leaned forward, both of us moving closer to the counter. “I don’t know either.” I reached out, telling myself this was wrong, but I couldn’t hold back. I brushed my knuckle down her cheek, and she gasped, leaning in to my touch.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. But I’m going to kiss you now.” And then I met her gaze again before I lowered my mouth to hers. She tasted of lemonade and pasta, and something new that had to be all Annabelle.

  I let out a sigh, and she gently put her hands on my hips, parting her lips for me. I deepened the kiss, aching for more, not able to hold back. Her hand slid up my back, and I cupped her face, needing, tasting.

  “Tell me to stop.” I groaned, then leaned my forehead against hers, trying to catch my breath.

  She tugged on my shirt. “Don’t stop.”

  So, I didn’t. I kissed her again, and then I wrapped my arms around her, put my hands on her ass, and lifted her. She let out a gasp, and then I captured her mouth with mine, needing her more. I rested her butt on the edge of the counter, pressing into her, my cock hard behind my zipper.

  “Jacob,” she muttered.

  I kissed her again, needing her, my hands now in her hair. She tugged on my shirt, and I moved back to pull it over my head.

  Her gaze moved to my chest, and she let out a slow breath before raking her nails down my flesh. I hummed, tugging at her shirts, and she helped me pull them over her head. And then my hands were over her bra, cupping her.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” I muttered.

  “Look who’s talking,” she whispered.

  Her breasts were full, her nipples tight against the fabric. She overfilled the cups, her chest rising and lowering rapidly as she fought for breath, as both of us fought for control.

  She reached around, her gaze on mine, and undid the clasp of her bra. The lingerie fell, her breasts bouncing ever so slightly, and I reached out to brush my knuckle across her rosy nipple.

  “Beautiful,” I mumbled and then leaned forward to capture one with my lips. She moaned, sliding her hand through my hair, and I suckled her. Then I moved to her other breast, molding her, paying as much attention to her body as I could.

  “I love your tits,” I said on a harsh chuckle, and she laughed, as well.

  “I love you loving them,” she said, her voice deeper. She had one leg wrapped around my waist, the other spread and hooked over my hip. I slid my hands down her body and tugged on the button of her jeans. Her gaze moved to mine, and she nodded. I undid her pants, grateful that she helped me by lifting her butt so I could wiggle them down her legs. They fell to the floor, and she sat there in little pink panties that barely covered her. I groaned again, then dropped to my knees, grateful that my counters were at the perfect height. And then I looked at her beautiful covered pussy and blew cool air over her.

  “I’m going to fucking taste you.”

  “Then do it,” she said, sounding like the Annabelle I was getting to know, the one who knew what she wanted, and I was grateful for it.

  I pushed all thoughts of how this could be wrong and how we were probably fucking this up out of my head. I didn’t have time for that. Not when I craved the deliciousness before me. I slid her panties to the side, gazed at the glistening flesh in front of me, and then latched myself to her pussy.

  Her hips shot off the counter, and she wrapped her legs around my neck. I moaned, flicking at her clit as I licked and sucked. Then I speared her with two fingers. She came, her mouth open on a silent scream, her full lips looking delectable.

  I gazed up at her, and she peered down at me, her eyes dark. I swallowed hard. I kept kissing her, licking, and then I stood up and leaned forward to meet her mouth. I crushed my lips to hers, tangling my fingers in her hair. She arched into me, her pussy wet against my jeans. And then she was suddenly undoing the snap on my pants, unzipping me. She slid her hand behind the elastic of my boxer briefs and gripped me.

  I let out a breath, sucking air through my teeth to try not to come right then.

  She pumped me slowly, and I cursed, hating myself f
or not being able to focus. I blindly reached out for my wallet on the counter, dug for a condom, and pulled away slightly. I kissed her again, needing to taste her, to fall into oblivion so I wouldn’t think too hard.

  I ripped open the condom packet, slid the latex over my dick, and didn’t even bother to pull my pants off completely. I positioned myself at her entrance and met her gaze. At her nod, I slammed home.

  We both gasped out a breath, her pussy tight like a vise around me. I shook, needing control. And then she met my gaze, leaned forward, and bit my lip. I grinned, gripped her hips in a bruising hold, and moved.

  I fucked her on the counter, both of us panting, egging each other on as I moved more frantically, slamming home over and over again. And when she came again, my thumb over her clit, all that remained was desire and need and temptation. No worry or anxiety.

  I came with her, needing her. Not thinking about the fact that I could have just fucked everything up. All I could think about was Annabelle touching me, the way it felt, her taste, how she came around my cock. And the fact that I didn’t want this to be over.

  And even if it meant me going to hell, I wanted to do it again.

  Chapter 9

  Annabelle

  * * *

  My legs were still wrapped around Jacob’s waist as I leaned back and let out a breath. My lips were swollen, my hair tousled, my breasts heavy and covered in tiny little bite marks from the person currently still deep inside me. Jacob leaned down, his whole body shaking as he swallowed hard. Neither of us spoke until he cleared his throat.

  “I think...I think I should clean us up.”

  I looked up at him and nodded, not sure what to say. The brother of the boy I had married for friendship rather than love, and the man who had hated me up until last week, was currently balls-deep inside me, after coming hard—after I had come even harder around him. Not once, not twice, but three times.

  “Yes, I think we should clean up.”

  He pulled out of me, and I winced at the ache, knowing I would be sore later. “Shit, are you okay?”