Page 60 of Possessive Ink

Turning to the server, he offers her a cool smile. “The waffles and berries for my princess, and I’ll take a Denver omelet, please.”

“Okay, can I get you anything else?”

“No, thanks,” Atticus says, turning all of his attention back to me and dismissing the server in a cold, but not exactly rude, way.

Nodding, she turns and strides away. The moment she’s gone, warm palms cup my face and turn me to look up at him. “How do you feel?” he asks.

Opening my mouth, I start to speak, then stop myself. I’m not entirely sure how to answer him. My instinctive response would be to tell him I’m fine, but am I? My body is sore from all the sex and orgasms during the night, but I’m also needy and turned on. I feel eager for more, but my mind is a strange mix of both confused and settled.

“I don’t know how I feel,” I admit honestly.

“That’s okay,” he says, validating my feelings. “This dynamic is new to you. It’s new to me too, but in a different way. I’ve always known what I wanted, but this is the first time I’ve found it. Both of us will need some time to adjust to our new normal.”

Who is this man and why does he seem to have all the answers? Why is he so confident and sure, and why is his surety starting to make me feel that way too?

“Who am I?” Atticus whispers, keeping his voice low enough that only I can hear him.

“Sir,” I say without thinking.

“Whose Sir?”

“My Sir.”

“Yours,” he agrees, lowering the hand on my cheek down to my neck, his pinkie curling beneath the cool gold band hanging there.

Slowly dipping his face, I wait for his lips to find mine. The moment his mouth touches my lips, I open, inviting him in, inviting him to take control. He does, sliding his tongue into my mouth as he tugs on the chain around my neck, holding me gently but firmly in place while he kisses me.

His hold feels the same way it did when he touched me yesterday and through the night to this morning—firm, but gentle, carefully taking away my choice and making me crave it. I can’t explain why I like it, but I do. I enjoy the feeling of relief that settles over me when I’m beneath his touch.

Pulling away, he leaves me wanting more, my eyes reluctant to open. Something about him makes me want things I didn’t realize I’d enjoy, like willingly giving myself over to his command.

“How did I find someone as perfect as you?” he murmurs softly, curling his arm around me and keeping me close, like he can’t bear to be too far away.

“Maybe it’s drugs? Or a chemical leak?” I suggest with a giggle.

“My sister mentioned there might be something in the water here.” He chuckles. “But I’m not sure I care how we found each other. I’m just grateful that we did. I’m going to make you so happy, Lemon. I’m going to take care of you all day, then own you all night, every night.”

Gulping thickly, I tip my head back to look up at him and find his hot, intense gaze focused down on me. Is that what I want? To be owned by him. I’ve never considered myself the type of person who would care for someone who wanted to own me rather than love me. But maybe Atticus could be the one who does both.

My mom never found her happy ever after. She dated a little, but the couple of men who stuck around long enough for her to introduce them to me weren’t the forever kind. She told me I was the love of her life, so she didn’t have enough heart left to give it to someone who wasn’t worthy. So in the end it was just her and me, and now it’s just me.

I loved my mom with everything I have, but I don’t feel like loving her has left me with a shortfall of love to give. In fact, if anything, I feel like loving her has shown me how big and all-encompassing love can be. And I want that. I want to be all-consumingly in love, and it’s terrifying to think that this man I barely know could be the person I’ve been waiting for.

“What are you thinking, Princess?” Atticus asks, running his knuckle over my jaw before hooking it under my chin. “I think I just saw a hundred different emotions flash over your face.”

“I was thinking about my mom,” I tell him, not lying but not telling him the whole truth either.

“I wish I could have met her. Would she have approved of me? Or would she think I was a drug dealer too?” he asks, smirking amusedly.

“She wouldn’t judge you for your tattoos. She liked to say that people were the sum of their actions and that family was everything. There might only have been the two of us, but it was us against the world. I think she’d have liked you and the way you and Felix and Tori are together. She always worried about me being an only child.”

“You’re not an only child anymore. You have a sister and three brothers. I hope they drive you as crazy as they drive me.” He chuckles.

“You’ve talked about your siblings but not your parents. Do you not get along?” I ask, suddenly craving to know more about him.

“No, my parents are great. They got divorced about fifteen years ago, then after Jude and August left for college, they realized they still loved each other and got back together. They’re great people, but they’re more lovable messes than responsible parents. They’re not the people anyone would go to in a crisis, least of all me or my brothers or sister.”

“So who would you go to in a crisis?”