Page 4 of Inked Nights

And she wouldn’t.

Ever.

There should have been no names tonight. There never were before. Those were the rules. The boundaries that had been set to ensure that no one got hurt.

And yet it was all a lie.

Because she knew his name.

She knew his face.

And in that one brief moment when the light had hit his eyes just right, and she had seen the boy he had been instead of the man he was, she knew that the fragile peace she’d thought she had collected was a sham.

He was the one person she wasn’t supposed to have. The one she knew could break her, shatter it all.

So she knew that when the time came to meet again, she’d have to walk away. She’d have to end what they had even though she was positive it would ruin a part of her.

She couldn’t undo the fragile trust they’d created through their promises and touch. If she stayed, if she came back, she’d be the liar she’d always told herself she would never become.

This was the boy she’d fallen in love with before she knew what love was beyond cupcakes and butterflies. This was the man that she had tested her boundaries with. And now, it seemed he was the man she’d truly tested fate with.

Because this man was a stranger with a familiar face. He was someone from her past who she had sworn to forget.

Someone who could break her.

This was Derek.

The man she needed to forget.

And the one person Olivia knew she wouldn’t.

Chapter Two

Derek Hawkins hovered above the woman he only knew as O and held back a frown at the expression on her face. This wasn’t the look of a woman sated and worn out from a long night of sex. No, she looked as if she’d seen a ghost and wanted to be anywhere but where she was.

And considering that he was buried balls-deep inside her, the condom still warm from his come, he wasn’t feeling so pleased with that fact. Her tight pussy was currently wrapped around his dick, her inner walls clamping down on him in waves as she came down from her own orgasm. All of this was happening as she looked at him but didn’t meet his eyes.

Why the fuck wouldn’t she meet his eyes?

He shifted slightly, still inside her, and traced his finger along her cheekbone. When she didn’t lean into his touch, didn’t look at him, he knew something was wrong.

Had he hurt her? Had they gone too fast, had he been too rough? They’d gone harder before, faster even, but maybe he’d missed a cue somewhere? He quickly pulled out of her, ditched the condom on the side table thanks to some convenient tissues, and checked her over.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” He hated the way his need for her bled into his voice. They weren’t a couple, weren’t anything except two people who respected one another and had fun even though they kept their distance. He liked what they had, even if part of him wanted more, and still another part knew he needed to walk away before he hurt her. But that didn’t mean he’d let himself hurt her now.

She turned her head to the side and looked at him, confusion on her face. For some reason, that settled him down more than anything she could have said.

“No, of course, you didn’t hurt me. You never hurt me. I like what we do.” She cleared her throat and sat up, pulling the sheet up with her. Somehow, during their first round, they’d tossed the comforter down to the floor and had slid under the sheets. That didn’t always happen since they usually went at it against a wall or on another piece of furniture first, but this time, they’d gone for the bed.

He didn’t like the fact that she’d covered herself with the damn sheet, though. He liked seeing her dark nipples and light brown skin completely bare. Yeah, the contrast of the cream sheets against her darker skin was hot as hell, but he still didn’t like that she felt as if she needed to cover herself up.

“Then why won’t you meet my eyes? I know you came, but didn’t you like what we did?” He hated how insecure he sounded, but he was just coming down from his own high, and he wasn’t thinking clearly. He never thought clearly when it came to O.

And fuck, he’d asked her to call him Derek, demanded it more like. He wanted her to know him, wanted to know who she was. He was getting too old for their game, and from what he knew of O, he liked her.

But he had a feeling he’d changed the game and not for the better, and now he was probably going to get screwed over—and not in a good way—because he’d taken that step.

She turned then, meeting his gaze full on for the first time since they’d gotten into bed. “I think I need to go.”