Page 20 of Inked Desires

ANDREW

Ares claims he isn’t avoiding me—but that’s exactly what he’s doing. Sure, he talks to me more now, but always carefully, skirting around anything real. Nothing deep. Nothing honest.

Still, I’m sure I’ve hit a nerve. He feels something for me. I know it.

And me? I can’t even figure out my own emotions. More than ever, I just want to remember. How did I forget years of my life? How could I forget him? It makes no sense. I feel safe around Ares—comforted, grounded. And yet I have no memory of this man.

I stand and walk toward the large front window, watching the flow of people rushing through the streets. Some are doing Christmas shopping. Others are heading home from work, weighed down by long days. The world is moving, fast and chaotic.

Then something shifts. A hush settles over everything. A single white flake drifts down from the sky.

Snow.

I freeze.

It’s cold. The snow is piling up on the frozen planks beneath my knees, and more flakes swirl around me like they’re mocking me. Just like the man behind the glass.

My husband.

Jace is seated inside, warm and smug, his chair placed right in front of the patio door like he’s watching a show. He sips from a steaming mug and stares at me with quiet satisfaction. The cold doesn’t touch him.

I glance down at myself. My hands are trembling. My teeth are chattering. My breath clouds the air, and my fingers are stiff with cold.

And Jace? He just watches.

His gaze glows with twisted delight. His lips curl into a smile. I used to love that smile. It used to be gentle. Sweet. Now it means one thing: this is only the beginning.

I picked the wrong shirt. Too many buttons undone. Meant to be worn only for his eyes. I should’ve known better. But I like my shirts that way—they give me a little confidence. I wasn’t thinking.

I try to stand, hoping to regain some warmth, but it only makes it worse. Now he sees how violently I’m shaking. My whole body is seized by convulsions I can’t control.

A single tear escapes, warm against my frozen skin. It’s the only warmth I feel.

It’s only when I break—when the sobs tear out of me and the ice numbs my bare feet—that the door finally opens.

“Oh, my poor little doll,” he says, faux pity dripping from every word. “Come inside. I’ll warm you up.”

I stay frozen on the steps. Going inside won’t save me. I’d rather die out here in the snow than feel his hands on me again.

His eyes darken when I don’t obey right away. Two steps, and he’s on me. His hand clamps around my arm like iron.

“You’re coming in, you filthy little whore,” he snarls.

“Andrew!”

A voice pulls me back violently. I blink, trying to scatter the storm in my head. The fog thins, and I slowly remember where I am. I’m not there. I’m not with Jace. I’m in a tattoo parlor. I’m safe.

I exhale in relief.

But I’m shaking. My hands are clenched into fists. I try to calm my breath.

“Andrew?” the voice repeats.

I turn. Ares is beside me, his hand resting gently on my shoulder. His presence is solid, grounding. He’s real. I’m okay.

“…Yeah?” I whisper.

He lets out a breath and turns me toward him fully, both hands now resting on my shoulders. All I want is to sink into him. I’m still so cold.

“You didn’t answer for ten minutes,” he says softly. “Are you okay?”

Am I? I don’t know. I don’t know what I feel anymore. These fragments… they just hurt.

“Can you… hold me?” I plead before I can stop myself, my voice barely audible.

His brow creases. He scans my face, searching for understanding. And when he sees how lost I am, he doesn’t ask anything more. He just pulls me into him.

I press against his chest and let his warmth soak into my frozen limbs. My fingers fist his T-shirt as I bury my face in the curve of his neck. His scent surrounds me—woody, earthy, calming. He smells like pine and peace. I cling tighter, finding a stillness I didn’t know I needed. His body vibrates softly beneath my fingers, and slowly, my trembling fades.

I can breathe again.

I’m warm again.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs.

“I remembered,” I finally whisper.

His arms tighten around me.

I look up at him. He watches me, waiting, patient.

“What did you remember?”

I close my eyes. Part of me wants to stay quiet, to sort it out first. But he saw the aftermath. He held me through it.

“Just… a flash. One scene.”

He starts to pull away. I panic and grab tighter. I’m not ready to be alone again.

“I’m just locking the door,” he says gently. “We’ll go upstairs.”

“And your clients?” I ask.

“They can wait,” he replies, reaching for the lock.

He keeps a hand on me as we move through the studio and into the apartment above. He sinks onto the couch and pulls me down with him, settling me on his lap. My cheeks burn. I can’t remember the last time I sat on someone’s lap.

His hand runs slowly down my spine, leaving chills in its wake.

“Tell me,” he says softly.

“It was snowing,” I begin. “I was kneeling outside, and Jace was watching me from inside. I was freezing, and he was just… enjoying the view. All because my shirt was too open. I hadn’t even thought about it. I just liked how it looked. And then he opened the door… and told me to come inside.”

“That son of a bitch,” Ares mutters.

“I wanted to go inside. I was so cold. But I knew if I did… he’d take my body. So I thought maybe I should stay out there. Let the cold finish me.”

“Andrew…” he breathes, devastated.

I drop my gaze to my hands. I don’t want pity. Not from him. It’s humiliating enough that I married a monster—I can’t stand the idea of Ares seeing me as broken.

His fingers touch my cheek. He tilts my chin up gently, making me meet his eyes.

“Sorry for dumping that on you,” I whisper.

He shakes his head. His thumb strokes my cheek, leaving fire in its path.

“I want to know everything about you,” he says. “Back then, I begged you to talk to me. But you never said a word.”

“You didn’t trust me?” I ask.

He shrugs, but doesn’t move away. I don’t want him to.

“I don’t think you trusted anyone,” he says. It makes me smile, faintly.

If this memory is just a glimpse of what I lived through, I understand now. How can anyone trust again after that?

“Did you remember anything else?” he asks.

“No. Just… the snow. It pulled me under,” I explain.

He nods, eyes never leaving mine. There's warmth in his gaze now, but also something else. Something that burns. His lips catch my attention. They look soft. And I wonder… how many times did we kiss? I want to remember. I want to know what he tastes like.

“This isn’t a good idea,” he mutters beneath me, like he can read my mind.

I lean closer, so close I can almost taste him.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he says again, more to himself.

But my mind is already slipping. I’m on his lap. I feel safe. His presence intoxicates me, and this tension between us won’t let go.

His lips are gravity. I can’t stop myself.

I crash into him.

Heat. Raw and overwhelming. His lips aren’t as soft as I’d imagined—but they fry every nerve in my body. My fingers grip the back of his neck. He groans low, and I take the chance to slide my tongue across his lips.

He doesn’t pull away.

His tongue meets mine, eager. We move together, testing, exploring, syncing. It’s wet, gentle, and electric. More intense than I ever imagined.

I can’t name his taste. It’s unique—just like him. The flavor of freedom.

We should’ve done this sooner.

And now?

Now I don’t ever want to stop.

I press my lips harder against his, playing more fiercely with his tongue. I want more. One simple kiss will never be enough. A wave of heat spreads through me, flooding my veins until my crotch throbs with need.

I fold my legs, shifting my weight onto my knees, keeping my lips sealed to his. Concentrating, I swing one leg over his and straddle him.

A moan escapes me. He’s not immune either—I can clearly feel his growing hardness.

Just as I’m about to tilt his head back to savor his lips even more, he pushes me back slightly.

A frustrated growl bursts from my chest. I open my eyes wide, searching for the reason behind this interruption. Our breaths crash loudly against the white walls of the living room.

“Easy there, little bunny,” he breathes.

“I don’t want easy,” I protest.

And it’s true. Ares takes me as I am, and he’s turned on. Why let this chance slip away? I see that he wants it just as much as I do.

A soft smile lights up his lips. His hands glide around my waist, caressing my skin through my sweater.

“You just remembered. Your emotions are all over the place. Tomorrow, you might regret this,” he explains gently.

I shake my head vigorously.

“I could never regret you,” I affirm.

“For me, it wouldn’t just be sex, little bunny. Between us, it never was. If I take you, you’ll be mine. Mine alone. I’ll never share you with anyone else,” he warns, shifting tactics.

Ashamed, I lower my eyes to his chest rising rapidly. I hadn’t thought it through. He feels more than attraction. He remembers us. For me, it’s just sex—like a phase of discovery, the start of something new. It’s not fair to him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, embarrassed.

He lifts my chin. Softly, he leans in and kisses my lips. I look at him, surprised.

“Don’t apologize for wanting me,” he dismisses my guilt with a smile.

“I love it when you do that. Before, you always let me make the first move,” he laughs.

Then, suddenly serious, he adds:

“What’s between us isn’t a good idea. Jace is still out there. If he finds out you’re back, there could be consequences for you.”

Everything in life has consequences. Every decision, every careless move—everything. I understand what he’s trying to say, but I’m done letting Jace control my life.

“Life’s too short to dwell on every detail. On what ifs, should haves, could haves… it gets us nowhere. What if he doesn’t come back? Have you asked yourself that?” I shoot back.

He kisses me again. My stomach tightens, electrified.

“I ask myself that every day since you came back,” he admits.

“Stop torturing yourself. Just let things happen,” I plead softly.

It’s unfair of me. Just seconds ago, I was telling myself the same thing. For him, this isn’t just a kiss. It’s so much more than physical. But I’m too selfish to give up his lips.

We’ve been together before. Even if I don’t remember that time, can we try again? The attraction is still there.

“Let’s take our time,” he agrees. “I just want to love you the way you deserve.”

I climb the stairs and open the apartment door. Soft light spills from the living room down the hallway. I hang my jacket on the coat rack and slip out of my sneakers before following the glow.

Robert leans against the kitchen island, a glass of wine in hand. A dish and a second glass, also filled, rest before him.

“You’re home late,” he says with a sour tone.

“I didn’t know you were already back. Usually your trips last more than two days,” I reply, shrugging.

I feel uneasy. On one hand, excitement still floods me and I want to tell him about my evening, but on the other, I know it would hurt him. So I stay silent and stand frozen by the island.

“Is this for me?” I ask, pointing to the glass.

He just nods and takes a sip of wine. I grab my glass and take a drink too. Something’s off between us. This isn’t normal.

“Did your trip go well?” I ask, unable to bear the silence any longer.

“It was fine.”

The conversation stalls. Usually we talk about everything and nothing. I awkwardly flop onto a stool. Robert looks away, opens a cupboard, pulls out two plates, then some cutlery from a drawer. He sets them on the island.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

My stomach is both drunk on excitement and knotted with guilt. There’s no way I can tell him.

“A little,” I say simply.

He serves me a small portion. If I’m not mistaken, it’s a pasta gratin. One bite confirms it. The dish is lukewarm.

“Have you been back long?” I ask.

Robert doesn’t eat, even though he served himself. He just drinks his wine.

“For a while. You finished work three hours ago, right?”

His scrutinizing gaze lingers on my face.

“Ares and I talked,” I murmur, eyes dropping to my plate.

My cheeks flare again. It’s not a lie. We talked… but we also shared a lot of kisses. I feel like a teenager caught red-handed by their parents. Except it’s not a parent facing me. It’s my best friend. Well… my only friend.

I risk a look at him. His jaw is clenched, a muscle twitches on his cheek.

“Are you angry?” I ask cautiously.

“You didn’t just talk,” he snaps.

I sigh and set down my fork. What’s the point in denying it? He’s trained to read people; it’s his job.

“No. But I’m sparing you the details. I don’t want to hurt you,” I say honestly.

Robert moves around the island and stops beside me. His hand lands on the back of my neck, his gaze burning with relentless determination.

“Robert…” I begin.

“No. I thought I could handle it, but I can’t settle for second choice. Choose me. I love you, Andrew. I have for a long time. That tattoo artist had only a moment with you. I’ve loved you for years. I’d do anything for you!”

Suddenly, he grabs me and kisses me violently. Shocked, my eyes widen and the world tilts around me.

He straightens, holding me firmly. Our eyes lock. Slowly, he slides a hand under his jacket. When he pulls it out, a knife gleams between his fingers.

“What are you doing?” I breathe, breath short.

His lips press tight. He twirls the handle in his palm but doesn’t answer.

“Robert?” I insist cautiously.

He steps forward. His gaze never leaves mine. He says nothing.

Suddenly, his arm shoots out. A blinding pain explodes in my stomach.

I look down, stunned. I see the blade plunged into me, blood soaking my shirt. Blood. Too much blood. Dizziness sweeps over me. I stagger. Shock keeps me from reacting.

“Why?” I whisper.

He tilts his head slightly. No emotion crosses his face.

His tongue slips against my lips, seeking entry. Disgusted, I grit my teeth, strike his chest, and try to pull away.

In a desperate reflex, I raise my knee and slam it hard between his legs. He immediately lets go, a grunt of pain escaping his mouth.

I sway without his support. My legs tremble.

Who is this man before me? If this memory is real, I have to run.

“You stabbed me!” my voice screams uncontrollably.

“You remember?” he pants.

“I remember you deliberately driving that blade into my stomach!”

“I had to. Jace ordered me to eliminate you. It was the only way to make you disappear,” he tries to explain.

“You’re FBI! You had no other choice?!”

“I was undercover! If I’d blown my cover, I’d never have been able to protect you again,” he defends himself, standing straighter.

He takes a step toward me. I back away immediately.

“Don’t come near me!”

“Calm down! I would never hurt you. It was necessary so that you’d be safe now.”

I shake my head, raise a hand. Finally, he stops.

“I’m leaving. And you’re going to let me go.”

Robert clenches his fists. His ragged breathing echoes in the room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demands.

“None of your business. Leave me alone. You should have told me the truth. I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

I walk around Robert and rush to the entrance. This time, he doesn’t stop me, and I’m grateful. I wouldn’t win a fight against him.

As soon as my shoes are on and my jacket on my shoulders, I slam the door and dash into the freezing night.

In the parking lot, I stop, furious. Where to go? I should have thought this through. I have no money, no car. It’s too cold to stay outside.

I pull out my phone. Only one person can help me.

It’s a line I cross. Nothing slow, unlike what we agreed. But I have no choice. I have no one else.

The tone rings out. A few seconds pass, then his voice rises.

“Andrew?”

“I need your help.”