Significance (Artistic Pricks Ink) Read online

  For the entire ride, I stare down at the sapphire framed in diamonds now shining up at me from my finger. This beautiful ring is only a tiny symbol of what we have and what will be, but I can’t help but stare at it. Images of Mitch and I sitting on a porch swing fifty years from now have me smiling. The thought of all those years of happiness spent with the man that I love is more than I can put into words.

  Mitch doesn’t spare a minute once he pulls into our parking spot. Like a man on a mission, my overexcited sailor pulls me from the truck and tosses me over his shoulder. “Mitch,” I squeal as he knocks the door closed with his hip. His arm tightens around my hips as he holds me in place. My body bumps against his with every step he takes up the sidewalk to our front door.

  “We need to be naked, now,” Mitch grunts before settling me on my feet. I giggle as he unlocks the door and shoves us inside. Locking the deadbolt, Mitch turns to face me, his eyes heating. “Are you giggling at me?” he asks, ripping his shirt over his head. “I don’t see anything funny right now, Becky.”

  Tossing my bag to the chair, I take in his bare chest and my laughing stops immediately. The lines of his abs are covered in ink, every inch having its own separate meaning. The anchor on his chest says Mom right below his heart, the words “Artistic Prick” are written in Graffiti-like lettering across his ribcage, and my favorite, across the inside of his forearm, it says “fight for freedom, not glory” with an American flag along with the date he joined the Navy. Every piece of work on him has a story, a piece of him just as vital as the blood pumping through his veins.

  Bending over, Mitch starts loosening the laces on his boots. With every bunch and ripple of the muscles in his back and shoulders my mouth waters. Reaching out my hand, I let my fingers brush his biceps. The feel of his skin beneath my hands is like a dream. I’ve waited so long to touch him, and now, I don’t ever want to stop.

  “Becky,” he groans low in his throat. It’s a warning. Kicking out of his boots, he stands upright and meets my eyes. “Do you have any idea what you do to me when you touch me?”

  “Show me,” I reply, stepping closer. I want to remember every second, every sensation. My hand slides up to rest on his chest, his heart beating rapidly beneath my fingertips. “I’ve dreamt about this moment every night, how it would be when you came back to me. To touch you, to feel your heart beat, it’s hard to believe you’re really here. I don’t want this to be a dream, I don’t want to wake up and find the bed cold without you in it.”

  Mitch sighs, his hand cups my jaw, and I shiver when his thumb traces my bottom lip. My eyes drift closed. Breathing deeply, I attempt to swallow the emotion threatening to come out. “I’ve waited for this day for months. It’s what got me through every fuckin’ day I was away from you, beautiful girl. You own every single piece of me. Just one look through a glass window and I was yours, even then,” he says, causing me to open my eyes. “Yes,” he groans. “The way you’re lookin’ at me right now, how you feel beneath my hands,” he says, his free hand sliding beneath my dress. Slowly, Mitch inches the fabric up higher and higher until he leans back to pull it over my head. “It’s the reason I exist.” Tossing my dress to the floor, he smiles. “I fight for this. So I can come home to you and know that none of that shit over there will ever touch you. I’d give my last breath for you, Rebecca Lynn. You sleep in our bed, whether I’m in it or not, knowin’ that without a doubt I’d gladly die just to lie there with you and feel your warmth.”

  A tear slips down my cheek. Mitch leans down, pressing his lips to my jaw. “Love me,” I whisper before his mouth takes mine.

  His kiss is soft and tender, but I feel the hunger that is waiting just beneath the surface. Mitch’s arms wrap around me, pulling my body flush against his. Lifting me off my feet, he starts down the hallway toward our bedroom.

  Mitch passes the bed altogether and carries me into the bathroom. Easing me onto the vanity, he opens the glass doors to the shower and starts the water.

  I watch the muscles in his arms flex with every move he makes. By the time he faces me again, I am practically about to tackle him to the floor. I need to feel him now. His hands slide up my legs, parting my thighs so he can step between them. Reaching behind me, he flips the clasp on my bra before tossing it over his head to the floor.

  Stepping back, he slips my shoes off before helping me to my feet. He drops to his knees so fast, my own nearly buckle. Mitch presses his lips to my stomach, slowly moving along my skin until they brush my hardening nipple, making me moan. “I wanted this to be slow, baby,” he groans, nipping my sensitive flesh with his teeth. “You deserve slow and sweet, but right now I can’t give you that.”

  “Then give me hard and fast,” I reply, digging my fingers into his hair and yanking the strands. “I don’t want slow and sweet right now. All I want is to feel every inch of you.”

  Stepping back, Mitch fumbles with his belt, shoving his pants down his thighs. His thick erection instantly makes me want to drop to my knees and taste him.

  Mitch has other plans.

  Hoisting me up onto the counter again, he rips my panties away and thrusts into me. My fingers dig into his shoulders as he moves inside me, every possible inch of our bodies touching as he claims me. My ass slams back onto the countertop with each thrust, my body climbing toward the much needed release already. Mitch grips my hip with one hand as the other kneads my breast. “Yes, Becky, that’s it, baby.”

  “Mitch,” I cry out, my orgasm within reach, but I don’t want it. Not yet. I don’t want this to be over so soon.

  Sliding his hand down, Mitch finds my clit with his thumb. “I’m close, Becky. Let go for me,” he growls, his thumb circling in time with each pump of his hips.

  I fall. My orgasm rips through me, sending me crashing through the abyss and I dive willingly. Just as I knew he would, Mitch catches me as he finds his release. Holding me to him, his body stills and he kisses me deep. Every ounce of love and passion that is in this moment is only amplified by his kiss. It feels like his hands are everywhere at once, roaming my body as our mouths move against each other. It’s incredible how we come together like we haven’t just spent the last several months apart. Adapting to him being home has its issues, but this is never one of them.

  New assignments and orders will come soon and neither of us know what they are or where they may send him. For now, we wait. The other shoe hasn’t fallen yet. When it does, I know that we can face where it lands together.

  Chapter Two

  Mitch

  The sound of tires screeching has me damn near leaping from the fucking bed. My eyes fly open and I have to remind myself to breathe. I stare around the room, reminding myself that I’m not on some makeshift base on a back-breaking cot. I am home, in my bed. It takes some time to get used to not having to be on high alert all the time. It’s a fuck-of-a-lot easier said than done.

  After we showered, I called my best friend Luke to check on our shop, Artistic Pricks Ink, then called my mother to let her know I was home safe and sound and planning a trip to Vegas soon. The rest of our night was spent relaxing. We ate in bed and then I fell asleep with her head on my chest while she read to me from her journal. Between debriefing and days of travelling, I was exhausted.

  Usually, I crash as soon as I get off the damn bus, but putting my ring on Becky’s finger took priority. Once she said yes, I had nothing else on my mind but being inside her. If I have my way, before I get deployed again, she will have my name and be carrying my baby.

  Being gone this time was different; I spent a lot of time reflecting on the future. I knew I wanted Becky to be my wife— that was possibly the easiest decision I have ever made in my life. The ring my mother had worn has been waiting in the safe- deposit box for me when I came home, but that was only part of the plan. The idea of having a daughter with Becky’s smile or a son with her hunger for life has me wanting to take our lives to the next chapter sooner rather than later. It is all leading up to the one thing I
want most of all: to move us from this tiny apartment into a house and build the family that I never had as a child.

  My mother was nearly forty-five when she had me. For a woman who never thought she would have a baby, finding out you are pregnant at four months is a shock. Then, tragically, my father was killed saving a family from a burning building when I just was three months old. So all Ma has is me, and now Becky.

  Which is one of the driving factors for starting a family now. I want to have a big family. A house full of kids, filled with love and laughter, and Becky to share it all with. When I am old and gray, I want to sit there holding her hand while our grandchildren play in the yard.

  “Beck?” I call out, tossing the white comforter from my legs. “Babe?”

  Standing to my feet, I pull on a pair of basketball shorts and head into the bathroom. Once I take care of business and brush my teeth, I head up the hallway in search of my girl.

  A smile spreads across my face the minute I see her bare legs draped over the arm of our couch. Her toes wiggle back and forth, the purple nail polish shining in the sunlight pouring in from the window. Lying on her back, she scribbles in her journal, the book blocking my view of her beautiful face. She hums softly along to the music playing through the headphones I know she is wearing so as not to wake me.

  Strawberry Now and Later wrappers litter the coffee table alongside a stack of uneaten Blue Raspberry ones, making me chuckle. Becky has an addiction to the candy, but only certain ones. There is a pink cupcake shaped cookie jar in the kitchen filled with the ones she doesn’t like, saved just for me because they happen to be my favorites.

  That’s when you know you’re a perfect match. It’s all about being able to share a bag of candy with no issues on who gets what flavors.

  Walking around the coffee table, I sit down on the edge. Grabbing one of the pieces of blue candy, I unwrap it before popping it into my mouth. Her hand moves furiously as she writes out her thoughts. Reaching over, I yank the headphones from the iPod.

  “Morning,” I say once the music isn’t blaring in her ears anymore.

  “Hey. I didn’t wake you, did I?” Becky asks, but I’m not paying attention. My eyes take in her body, covered only in one of my old band t-shirts.

  “Remember what my plans were yesterday?” I ask, shoving the book to the floor. Sliding over her body, I brace myself on my elbows so she isn’t bearing all my weight. “I’ve slept, so now it’s time to do it all over again. I hope you weren’t plannin’ on leavin’ the house today, Becky.” Leaning down, I brush my lips over her jaw, making a trail for her collar bone. Shoving the ear buds and pencil away, Becky leans back to give me better access, and then I do what I have been dying to do for months.

  I make love to my girl, nice and slow.

  ~*~Becky~*~

  “I wanna ask you somethin’ serious,” Mitch asks as I lie sprawled across him on the couch, my fingers tracing the lines of ink on his skin.

  “Okay.” Shoving my hair out of my eyes, I look up at his face. together as he gathers his thoughts. Mitch’s eyes meet mine, but I can’t read them. His brows knit Whatever is on his mind is something that has been weighing there, that much I can tell, but his eyes give nothing away as to what it is. Taking a deep breath, he speaks.

  “Go off the pill,” he says, shocking me. “I want you carrying both my baby and my last name before I deploy again.”

  “Wow,” I reply, climbing off of him and settling in the corner of the couch against the arm. Grabbing the t-shirt I was wearing before, I pull it over my head as I adjust to the drastic change in conversation.

  Sitting up, Mitch takes my hand. “I want to make a family with you. It’s the next logical step in where we’ve been headin’ for five years. I want you to be my wife, to give me beautiful babies. Little girls that are gorgeous like you, or boys with your fierce attitude, I don’t even care which. Let’s buy a house, get married, and get started on a family.”

  “You’ve been home one day, Mitch,” I say, shaking my head in an effort to digest his request, which wasn’t even a request. It was a to-do list.

  “I’ve been thinkin’ about this for months. This is what I want,” he assures me.

  “For months, and this is the first time you mention it? What about what I want, Mitch?” I ask. Pulling my hand free of his, I walk around the coffee table to create some distance between us. I can’t think when he is touching me, and right now I can’t have him persuading me into something I fear we will both regret sooner or later. “You came home yesterday after months of being away. You proposed, and I am so happy to take that step with you, I am. But, before I can even adjust to that, you tell me you want a house, wedding, and a baby immediately? You’re not even asking. You are just telling me what you want, and what, I fall in line and start popping out kids? Babies that you probably wouldn’t even be here to see come into the world?” I ask, my voice getting louder.

  “Don’t you want kids?” Mitch asks, yanking on his shorts, hurt and confusion etched across his features. “Was I wrong to think we were on the same page about this?”

  “No!” I shout, throwing my hands up in frustration. “I want kids… someday. What I don’t want is to do it alone for months on end. To be here raising our family while you’re gone and there’s a possibility of you not coming home. Just because you aren’t on the front lines doesn’t mean you are safe out there, Mitch. How do I explain that to our babies? How do I even begin to do any of that shit without you? I didn’t have a mother, what the fuck do I know about being a mommy?” I blurt, letting some of my fears find their voice. “The thought of messing up scares the hell out of me. I don’t want to be a disappointment, to you, or to our babies.”

  I don’t know the first thing about being someone’s mom. They say all those instincts kick in, but what if they don’t? What if Mitch is gone and I have no idea what the hell I am doing? He will be a wonderful father without even trying and I will be struggling to figure out how to make it through the day without doing some kind of irreparable damage.

  I also know Mitch has an amazing mother who was always hands on and that’s the parent he will want to be. He could never be that far away from me while I were pregnant, or be separated from his child for that length of time and keep his mind on the task at hand. Worry affecting his thinking could impact him coming home safely and that is not an option. As much as I know he wants to jump in the deep end, right now I know waiting is best for us.

  “You knew this was what I did when we got together. Nothing’s changed, Beck,” he argues, grabbing for my wrists. “I could work at a fuckin’ grocery store and get hit by a truck on the way home. You’ve never had a problem with my career before, what’s changed?”

  “I know what I signed on for, sailor, and I don’t regret it,” I attempt to explain, twisting my hands to lace my fingers with his. Looking up into his eyes rips my heart out. The look on his face is something I have seen before, but not something I have caused. Hurt. “I assumed that we were going to wait until you retired from active duty to start our family, that’s all. The thought of being a mother scares me so bad sometimes it’s overwhelming. I just need time and we have plenty of it to make our family, Mitch. Our life together is just starting another chapter. We’ll get there.”

  Leaning down, Mitch presses a kiss to my forehead. “You’re wrong about that, Becky. I’m with you, always. I’d never let you feel like you were doing this alone. I can’t believe you’d even think that way.” His reply is emotionless. Turning away, he starts down the hallway. “I’m gonna get dressed,” he shouts, closing the bedroom door behind him.

  Walking into the kitchen, I start the coffee pot. Exhaling harshly, I push the emotion away and try to pull myself together before he comes back out. In the five years that we’ve been together, I have never denied Mitch anything I could give him. Sitting down at the table, I bury my face in my hands. He has no idea how hard it is to say no to him, but I can’t do this. I’m not ready, and deep
down, there’s a part of me that wonders if I ever will be.

  How do I make him understand that this is more about me than it is him? This whole conversation has things bubbling up that I don’t want to begin to deal with.

  “I wish you could see yourself how I see you, Becky,” Mitch says sadly from the doorway making me jump. “I’d never ask this if I thought we weren’t ready or capable of making it work. You taught me what warmth real love has inside it and you have so much of it in you to give to someone else. You could never be a bad mother, because you could never be a bad person.”

  “Mitch, I…” His words both warm my heart and shockingly sting at the same time.

  Shaking his head, he shoves on his sunglasses. “Be back later,” he says, dismissing me. I can’t ignore the cold tone of his voice, the distance he is trying to put between us; it’s something I have never felt from him before. It cuts deep.

  “I made plans for us today, Mitch,” I reply, standing to pour a cup of coffee, desperately wanting to pretend that conversation didn’t just happen. All I wanted was a day with my guy, to simply enjoy feeling his body next to mine and steal back a few of those moments we missed while he was gone. I get that he wants this, I really do, but I am not ready to share him. I just got him back and the time between deployments is never enough.

  “Later,” he says, brushing me off again. “I need to take a drive.”

  “Don’t you want to talk about this?” I ask, stepping toward him. “You just got home, the last thing I want to do is argue.”

  “We’re not fighting, but no, I don’t. Right now, I’m gonna go clear my head,” he replies, turning for the door. “I guess we just want different things. That hurts, and I’m sorry that you can’t see in you what I do, but it is what it is. I’ll see ya later.”