Ember

  Chelle Bliss

  Carrie Ann Ryan, Corinne Michaels,

  and Jessica Prince (when she was awake)

  * * *

  Thank you for the months of laughs and ‘shit’ talk.

  * * *

  It was also nice to have an audience for my morning naps…sometimes a girl just needs to close her eyes to create something beautiful.

  * * *

  Without your friendship and pestering this book would’ve never been finished.

  * * *

  I love you three assholes.

  MEN OF INKED: HEATWAVE SERIES

  Book 1 - Flame

  Book 2 - Burn

  Book 3 - Wildfire

  Book 4 - Blaze

  Book 5 - Ignite

  Book 6 - Spark

  Book 7 - Ember

  Book 8 - Singe

  Book 9 - Ashes

  …and more hotness to come.

  * * *

  To learn more,

  please visit menofinked.com/heatwave-series

  Want a behind-the-scenes look at the chaos of my author life? Maybe you want early sneak peeks and other kickass treats.

  * * *

  CLICK HERE to join the fun!

  * * *

  …and as a special thank you, you’ll receive a free copy of Resisting, a Men of Inked novella.

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Rebel

  2. Rocco

  3. Rebel

  4. Rocco

  5. Rebel

  6. Rocco

  7. Rocco

  8. Rebel

  9. Rocco

  10. Rebel

  11. Rocco

  12. Rebel

  13. Rocco

  14. Rebel

  15. Rocco

  16. Rebel

  17. Rocco

  18. Rebel

  19. Rocco

  20. Rebel

  21. Rocco

  22. Rebel

  Epilogue

  A Note from Chelle Bliss

  About the Author

  Ember Copyright © 2021

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission.

  Publisher © Bliss Ink April 20th 2021

  Edited by Lisa A. Hollett

  Proofread by Read By Rose

  Cover Design © Chelle Bliss

  Cover Photo © James Critchley

  Prologue

  Rocco

  There’s nothing peaceful about dying.

  Not for the person taking their last breath.

  Not for the person there as witness.

  Not for the people left behind.

  And yet, the world doesn’t stop moving for a single second to mourn their passing. There’s no universal pause for the life that’s been extinguished. One minute, they are alive, and the next, they’re gone.

  I had a romanticized version of dying before that day. I never thought it was as brutal as the reality.

  I was naïve, stupid, and young.

  It was my youth that made me delusional, but that day…that very moment Carrie took her last breath, I was left with the reality that those whom I loved would die someday, along with myself.

  I’d forever be haunted by the sounds of the life being choked out of her. Eternally traumatized by the way she pleaded for my help with nothing except her eyes.

  I was powerless to save her. Unable to do anything except comfort her. I made a promise to myself after her body finally stilled.

  I’ll never allow myself to fall in love, opening my heart to someone so wide that they have the ability to destroy me from the inside out.

  There was no guarantee of growing old, even though my family had seemed blessed with years well beyond the norm.

  I knew every second that passed was another moment I was closer to the end. That simple fact stayed rooted in my mind for years.

  I’d live life to the fullest, never tying myself down to something that could destroy me. I’d enjoy every moment, savoring new experiences. I’d lose myself in the opposite sex, forgoing emotional relationships and indulging in carnal pleasures instead.

  At least, that was my goal, and I had every intention of keeping the promise I’d made to myself.

  But then, she happened…

  The one who had the power to destroy me if given half a chance.

  The only person who made me believe the wonders of loving someone could outweigh the pain of losing them.

  The one who changed everything.

  And for the first time, the one I couldn’t walk away from.

  1

  Rebel

  “Rebel,” he whispers, repeating my name.

  My belly flutters, something it rarely does. His voice is deep and caresses my skin as it washes over me.

  I tip my head back, peering up at him, and the air catches in the back of my throat when I lock eyes with him. His gaze is so intense, I feel as if he’s looking deep into my soul.

  “You look like a Rebel, sugar.” He smirks.

  My knees go weak, but I keep myself upright by planting my hand firmly on the hood of my pickup truck. I suck in a breath, trying to fill my lungs.

  The man is beautiful.

  No.

  He’s more than that.

  He’s a work of art, clearly molded from someone’s vision of the perfect male specimen.

  Wide shoulders.

  Thick biceps.

  Big strong hands.

  And a face that could make panties hit the floor with one single glance and very little effort.

  I bite my lip, grounding myself with the twinge of pain, and remind myself he’s only a man. A hot one, but still…just a man.

  “Baby, I’m more like trouble than a rebel,” I reply, somehow keeping the quaver out of my voice.

  His smirk grows, exposing a dimple in his cheek.

  Yep, a dimple.

  Dimples are my weakness and not just those on the face.

  The back ones, the two right above the ass…fuuuuuuck. I’m a goner for those every time.

  “You two play nice,” my best friend Carrie says as she takes her guy’s hand, following him toward the cabin with the biggest shit-eating grin on her face.

  I’m not sure if I want to give her the finger or blow her kisses for hooking me up with her man’s twin brother.

  She’s been talking about this weekend for days. I didn’t understand it until this moment. There were thousands of men on campus we could’ve partied with, but she said no one compared to the Caldo twins. I figured she was full of shit, but standing here, staring at one of them… She was not wrong.

  Carrie gives me a wink across the yard before Carmello yanks her inside, no doubt in a race to get her naked.

  “Whatcha wanna do, Reb?” Rocco’s gaze is still firmly planted on me as if nothing else matters.

  “I…uh.”

  Shit.

  What I really want to do is climb him like a tree, removing the thin clothing from his body to see what lies underneath and explore.

  But damn it, I don’t want to be too easy.

  A man should earn what I have to give, and I have no doubt Rocco Caldo is up to the challenge.

  He doesn’t take it upon himself to fill the awkward silence I create with the pause at his question. He stands there, studying me with those sinful eyes and smirking as I gawk at him, trying to remember simple words.

  “Swimming,” I blurt.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  Swimming…what in the actual fuck?

  Of all the shit to do in the world, all I manage to say is that lame answer. I’ve never had trouble talking to men before, but suddenly I’ve gone completely stupid in the presence of this one.

  Rocco crosses his arms over his wide chest, his biceps bulging underneath the sleeves of his T-shirt like it is about to tear into shreds. And God, I want it to rip, giving me a full view of what lies underneath.

  “You want to go swimming?” He tilts his head, eyebrows high, no doubt making some silent judgment about me that’s way off base.

  I shrug. “You’re hot,” I blurt out again, my mouth working faster than my mind. I wince and slap my hand over my mouth.

  Kill me now.

  He laughs, and his eyes sparkle in the late-afternoon sunlight hanging over our heads.

  “Fuck,” I hiss, shaking my head and mentally backhanding myself for such a stupid mistake.

  I’ve been in his orbit for all of five minutes, and every single thing that’s come out of my mouth has sounded moronic.

  “I meant it’s hot.”

  “Uh-huh,” he mutters, and that freaking dimple only gets deeper, drawing me in.

  “I swear to God, I meant it’s hot outside. You’re just okay,” I lie, but I keep on rolling through my ramble. “And between your black T-shirt and the sunshine, I’m sure you’re hot too. Not hot as in sexy, but hot as in sweaty.”

  I just keep digging the dumb-ass ditch deeper. I should just throw myself in, cover myself with dirt, and call it a day. However cool I wanted to come off to the hot guy with the rockin’ body, I have totally missed the mark.

  Epic failure.

&nb
sp; “You wanna feel if I’m sweaty?” he asks, his eyes dancing with so much mischief, I know he’s all kinds of bad.

  The kind that’ll make my toes curl, but still filled with trouble.

  “No,” I snap, but fuck…I so do.

  And I hate sweat. That shit grosses me out more than anything. I’d knee a guy before I’d let him get his arms around me covered in his own perspiration. It most definitely is not my thing.

  He tilts his head, running his tongue along his bottom lip.

  My gaze drops, following the path, wishing he were running that softness across my body instead of his own.

  “You got a suit?” he asks, but I don’t take my eyes off his mouth.

  I can’t. His lips are too plump and beautiful, ripe for kissing and made for pleasure.

  “Um.” I glance toward the truck, regretting blurting out swimming and the way I just stared at his mouth. “No.”

  “Bra and panties?”

  I blink, and I part my lips. “Excuse me?”

  “Are you wearing a bra and panties?”

  I tip my head down like I somehow need the visual confirmation before opening my mouth. “Yep. Totally wearing them.”

  “Too bad,” he whispers.

  I snap my head up, eyes on him, taking in his smirk and a freaking dimple. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He reaches out and grabs my hand.

  The contact sends a zap down my arm, through my body, and straight to the very spot that’s throbbed since I laid eyes on the cocky hunk.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, digging my heels into the gravel underneath my feet and trying to make myself unmovable.

  He gives my arm another light tug, and my body betrays me, moving with him. “To the back.”

  “The back?” I ask and peer over his shoulder to the field. “The backyard?”

  “To the pond, sugar.”

  My eyes widen. “No. No. No,” I say, drawing out each one a little longer than the last.

  He laughs and takes another step, and again, my body moves with him. “It’s safe. I promise nothing will happen to you. Well…” He smiles, stealing my breath again. “At least, nothing bad will happen to you.”

  My belly flips as my feet slide across the gravel, my body wanting to believe him even if my mind doesn’t. “This is the South,” I explain the obvious.

  He doesn’t stop walking as he peers over his shoulder at me. “And?”

  “I don’t know if you’re new here or just dense, but there’re gators in the water.”

  “You have a better chance of being bitten by a snake,” he replies, like I’m the crazy one.

  I swallow, and I don’t even need a mirror to know all the blood’s drained from my face. “Are you trying to talk me into or out of swimming in the pond with you? Because right now, you aren’t making a good case.”

  Rocco stops suddenly and turns, but my feet don’t get the memo.

  I crash right into his chest with my face. I stagger back, bouncing off his body like I’m a tennis ball slamming against a brick wall.

  His hands are instantly on my upper arms, catching me before I have a chance to go down.

  I gasp from the contact and the way his hands feel wrapped around my arms, holding me tight with his long, thick fingers. My body sways forward, and his hands tighten, sending tingles everywhere.

  And I mean everywhere.

  His brown eyes are locked on me, and so are his hands. He doesn’t even let me go after I find my footing. “You okay?” he asks, his voice deep and sultry.

  My mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out. I’m too fixated on his brown eyes and the flecks of gold dotting the outer edges. “Fine,” I squeak and tense when his thumbs stroke the tender skin on the inside of my biceps.

  Those same honey-brown eyes sweep over my face. “Don’t see any damage.”

  “Damage?” I whisper.

  “Your face is still pretty even after colliding with all this.”

  I can’t stop the smile from coming to my lips. “All this?” I raise an eyebrow, staring back at him.

  “It’s a lot of man to hit for such a small and pretty face.”

  “You did not just say that,” I tell him, biting my lip to hold in my laughter. “Tell me you did not just say that.”

  His hands finally fall away, but the heat from his touch stays imprinted on my skin. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “Fine. Fine. You’re a lot of man, but honey, I’m a whole lotta woman, and running into a man like you and bouncing off without a scratch is my superpower,” I say, finally finding my inner Rebel instead of the weird, silent girl who crawled out of the truck a few minutes ago.

  He crosses his arms again, tilting his head at the same time, a move he seems to have perfected. “Is that a challenge?” The muscles in his arms flex at the same time his lips twitch, and goddamn it, my eyes go right to them. “’Cause I love a good challenge.”

  I take a step forward, closing the space between us, and roll up onto my tiptoes. “You’ve been playing in the minor leagues, baby. I’m the pros. I’ve been with college men while you’ve been kissing high school girls under the bleachers, learning how to satisfy pussy and failing.”

  His face doesn’t change at all when he says, “Rebel, sugar, I’m going to rock your world. You can bet your pretty ass on that.”

  “Are you even eighteen? I mean—” I pull back, looking him up and down. I know he’s of age and could pass for a much older guy without a shadow of a doubt, but it doesn’t stop me from saying, “I don’t want to end up in jail, even if you’re the one chasing me.”

  He laughs, tipping his head back, the sun glinting off his white teeth. “I’m nineteen, sugar, but I totally dig you’re a cougar.”

  I narrow my eyes on his happy, hot-as-fuck face. “I’m twenty, which hardly makes me a cougar.”

  “I’m younger. Therefore, you are, in fact, a cougar. And, babe…” He pauses, licking his thick, pink lips. “Given half a chance, I’m going to make your weekend unforgettable. You’re going to be ruined and will never look twice at the other college men again without remembering what it felt like to have me between your legs.”

  I chuckle, but fuck, my belly flips, and I have to resist the urge to squeeze my thighs together. “You think you’re that good?”

  I’m playing with fire.

  I know I am.

  The man’s looks alone could make any girl bend over and beg for cock. And yet, here I am, tempting him with all the right words, wanting his lips on mine and that hard, hot body crushing me into the sheets.

  His eyes drop to my mouth when he says, “I know I am.”

  Rocco Caldo is an absolutely cocky, arrogant, beautiful asshole.

  I slide back, needing out of his personal space and a chance to catch my bearings. I have to come up with a way to make myself not appear to be so easy and to give myself an out.

  Younger guys usually kiss like shit. Sloppy, wet, and way too much tongue. It is the only thing that pops into my mind as I stand there, him staring at me and my body vibrating from all the energy flowing between us.

  “If you can sweep me off my feet with one single kiss, I’ll think about giving you a little more. But—” I hold up a finger “—if you fail at this one task, we’re going to binge-watch romance movies all weekend while we listen to those two bang each other’s brains out. Deal?”

  Rocco’s smile widens as he lifts one hand to his chin, running his index finger across his bottom lip. “And if I give you the kiss of a lifetime, I get you any way I want you, all weekend long. I mean, it’s a win-win for you because you’re going to have so many orgasms, you’re not even going to remember your name, and it’s a win-win for me because I will too.”