Singe

  Chelle Bliss

  SINGE 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 August 3rd 2021

  Edited by Lisa A. Hollett

  Proofread by Read By Rose & Julie Deaton

  Cover Design © Chelle Bliss

  Cover Photo © James Critchley

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

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  CLICK HERE to join the fun!

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

  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

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  Want to see the family tree? Visit menofinked.com/gallo-family-tree and learn more about the Gallos.

  To the last eighteen months—

  * * *

  thanks for feeling like a fucking eternity.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Bliss Update

  More Heatwave and a Standalone!

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Carmello

  I craved forgiveness. Needed it more than the air I breathed.

  Spent eleven years trying to find it, too.

  First, I did good deeds for anyone I could, but after a short amount of time, the small measure of happiness they provided me wore off.

  Next, I tried a relationship, thinking settling down with someone would fill the darkness caused by my actions. But that didn’t work. I got hooked to a crazy-ass bitch who tattooed my name on her body after forty-eight hours, and any thoughts of future relationships fizzled.

  Awkward doesn’t even begin to describe the entire breakup with that chick.

  After that, I gave up on anything long-term, deciding to find forgiveness somewhere inside me by the simple act of enjoying life—coupled with therapy, of course.

  I was smart enough to recognize I needed help.

  My therapist was male so there’d be no chance I’d have her body bent over her desk, seeking more than advice. I went to his office once a week for six months, paying thousands of dollars to him, and I still felt the same each time I walked out the door.

  Empty.

  I knew I didn’t cause my former girlfriend’s death. It was ruled an accident because no one can control Mother Nature, especially not a group of asshole deer bolting into the middle of the road.

  But deep in my mind, back in the darkest recesses, I still blamed myself for not swerving the opposite direction and not forcing her to put on her seat belt.

  We were young and dumb. Death felt like something that couldn’t touch us…until it did.

  Some people deal with their guilt and grief by getting lost at the bottom of a bottle of booze or pills. I’d never been one to dull the pain without there being some pleasure in it too. There was no pleasure in waking up with a hangover or fiending for another fix.

  I tried to find my redemption another way.

  One full of satisfaction instead of numbness.

  Women.

  But a man cannot find salvation buried deep in pussy.

  I tried. Lord knows I tried.

  All types of pussy, too.

  Tight pussy.

  Loose pussy.

  Easy pussy.

  Hard-to-get pussy.

  Nameless pussy.

  Faceless pussy.

  Pussy in every position.

  None of it mattered.

  They were all the same.

  Each encounter ended with emptiness.

  I couldn’t go on this way.

  Each year ticks by, no better or worse than the one before.

  I am wasting my life.

  It may have been one hell of a ride, but it is still completely unfulfilling.

  Most of my cousins have moved forward, even my twin brother, while I am stuck somewhere in the past, floating through each day without an anchor.

  My life needs to change, or else I’ll end up alone, watching those around me revel in their happiness.

  1

  I take a long sip as the clock strikes midnight. The crowd cheers when the confetti falls from the ceiling like feathers floating to the floor.

  The people around me are kissing each other as they make promises for the next year. Resolutions they most likely won’t keep.

  This is my first New Year’s alone.

  The first not surrounded by my family and friends, instead, sipping on a whiskey neat as I take in the ridiculous joy all around me.

  I turn my head to the side, noticing the only couple not kissing in celebration. The woman’s back is pressed against the bar, her head angled to the side, with a man crowding her space.

  “Come on, sweetie. One kiss. It’s New Year’s.” I hear him say to her.

  “No,” she snaps, her voice soft but audible above the music. “I don’t even know you.”

  He places his hands on her hips, and she flinches. “Please don’t,” she begs, squeezing her eyes shut.

  The man smiles, but there’s nothing friendly about the look. “One kiss,” he tells her, not giving up and not giving a fuck either.

  I set down my drink on the bar and take a deep breath, hoping I don’t end up in jail for the night.

  I stalk up behind them. “Hey, darlin’. Sorry I’m late.”

  Her eyes snap open and widen as I give her a nod, letting her know I know she’s not okay.

  “Are you bothering my girl?” I ask the back of his head.

  “Piss off,” he snarls, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

  I cross my arms, squaring my shoulders, and cock my head. “You have two seconds to take your hands off my girl, or I’m putting your ass on the ground.”

  “You with him?” he asks her, ignoring me.

  “Yes,” she whispers, her eyes still wild.

  The man drops his hands from her body, and she ducks underneath his arms. “Hey, sweetie,” she says, trying to smile, but her lips quiver. “I’ve been waiting for you.” She places her hand on my chest and plasters her body against my side.

  I snake my arm around her shoulders, holding her closer. “Sorry, I got caught at work.” My gaze swings back to the asshole who’s still staring at us. “You better get—before I make you go,” I tell him, eyes narrowed, lip curled.

  He doesn’t move right away, his eyes locked on the woman as he grunts. A second later, he’s gone, vanishing into the crowd.

  I tip my head down, looking at her as she clings to my body like a life preserver. “You okay?”

  She sags against me, letting out a long breath. “Jesus,” she mutters as her head falls forward, planting her forehead against my chest. “I don’t know how I’m doing.”

  I keep my arm around her, still holding her shoulders and not letting my hands drift any lower.

  Her body begins to tremble as the adrenaline starts to wear off and the fear settles in.

  “He’s gone now,” I reassure her. “You’re safe.”

  Her other hand joins the first on my chest before she tips her head back, bringing those big, wild eyes to mine. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  “For what?” I furrow my brows as I stroke the soft skin near the thin strap of her dress with my thumb.

  “I shouldn’t be touching you.” She pushes herself away, grabbing on to the bar to hold herself upright as her body continues to shake from everything that happened.

  “I’m pretty sure I touched you first, and don’t be silly, you needed a rescue, and I was more than happy to give it to you.”

  Her cheeks turn pink as she tucks a lock of her dark-brown hair behind her ear. “I shouldn’t need a rescue.”

  “We all need a rescue sometime, babe.”

  “Arlo,” she says, glancing at her shoes.

  “What?”

  She sways a bit but keeps her hand firmly planted on the edge of the bar, holding herself upright. “My name…my name is Arlo, not babe.”

  “I’m Carmell
o.”

  “Hi,” she says softly, blinking slowly. “Carmello.”

  I step forward, placing myself next to her at the bar, and on cue, she turns, resting the front of her body against the counter. “Let me buy you a drink. I think you earned it.”

  She smiles a genuine smile for the first time since I laid eyes on her. “I owe you a drink.”

  “Fine. You can buy this round,” I lie. “What do you want?”

  She leans over, placing her arms on top of the bar, flattening her palms. “Champagne. No, wait.” She pauses, her gaze moving across the bottles against the wall. “I need something stronger. Whatever you’re having, I’ll take.”

  I nod, motioning toward Jimmy, the bartender and someone I’ve known since I was a kid. “Two shots of whiskey and two whiskeys neat to sip,” I tell him, not bothering to look at Arlo.

  “I can’t…”

  I hold up my hand off to the side. “And two waters.”

  He nods, making quick work of the drinks as Arlo fidgets at my side. The girl is wound up, but after what she just went through, I’d be wound tight too.

  When the drinks are in front of us, I push three glasses in front of her, finally bringing my attention back to her pretty face. “Shot first,” I tell her.

  “I really shouldn’t…”

  I lift my shot glass, ticking my chin toward her shot. “It’ll take the edge off, and from the looks of you, you need it, darlin’.”

  “Arlo,” she whispers like I forgot.

  “I didn’t forget.”

  Her eyebrows rise for a brief moment before she wraps her slender fingers around the glass and brings it toward her lips. The liquid inside sloshes. “I’m shaking,” she says, her eyes focused on the drink and the movement I didn’t miss.

  “I know. It’s why you need two. The first one will hit quick, and the second is to enjoy.”

  Her gaze darts to me and then back to the glass in her hand. She pauses, and I use my free hand to push the shot closer to her lips.

  “Down the hatch.” I smile before tipping back my shot, swallowing the liquid.

  She follows, immediately grimacing and then wincing as the whiskey no doubt burns her insides as it slides toward her belly. “Shit,” she hisses, clutching her chest and slamming the empty shot glass back on the bar. “That was…”

  “Sip your water.”

  She blinks, sucking in a breath as if she can’t shake the burn. “What?” she whispers.

  I push the tall glass of ice water closer to her. “Drink the water. It’ll help.”

  My eyes never leave her face as she wraps her hand around the ice water and lifts it toward her lips, her gaze moving away from me.

  “Better?” I ask after her first sip.

  She nods with an uh-huh, looking everywhere except at me.

  “Good.” I smile at her again, seeing her shoulders relax even if her eyes are on full alert, moving around the bar area.

  She tips her head back, exposing her beautiful neck, before chugging the water like she’s at a frat party trying hard to get drunk as fast as humanly possible.

  Before the glass touches the bar again, only a few inches of liquid are left.

  “You okay?” I ask her again, watching her movements carefully.

  Her hands are barely shaking, and although she doesn’t look completely comfortable, she’s not as tense or as fidgety.

  “Much better,” she says. “You can go now, though. I got this,” she dismisses me.

  “Go?” I raise an eyebrow. “Where am I going?”

  She looks over her shoulder at the people still celebrating around us, acting like there isn’t a new year every 365 days. “Back to your friends or your girl.”

  I let out a bitter laugh. “It’s just me—and now you.”

  Her eyes flash for a moment. “How?”

  “How what?”

  “How are you alone on New Year’s Eve?”

  I shrug. “I felt like being alone…until now at least.”

  “But you’re…you’re,” she says and stops.

  “I’m what?” I push her.

  “You’re hot.” She rolls her eyes and waves a hand at me. “Like super hot. With your pretty face, perfect nose, high cheek bones, chiseled jaw, and I’m sure you have a six-pack underneath your pressed dress shirt.”

  “Babe, I’m a man who doesn’t get manicures, likes to get dirty, and don’t need a date or the extra drama just because it’s a holiday. And, in case you haven’t looked in the mirror lately, you’re the one who’s super freakishly hot. You’re stunning and could get any man in this place or outside of here.”

  “Well, I…I,” her voice dies and she reaches for the whiskey neat, taking a big sip, swallowing down whatever she was going to say in rebuttal. “This has been a long day. I think I need some sleep.”

  “We’re finishing this drink, I’m walking you to your car, and then I’m going home to get some sleep. I’m over this day.”

  “You don’t need to walk me to my car.”

  “Babe, after what just happened to you, I can’t leave without walking you to your car, watching you get inside, and seeing you drive away without that guy getting anywhere near you.”

  “You really don’t need—”

  “Don’t argue,” I tell her, cutting her off. “I’m doing it.”

  “I can have one of my friends walk me out.”

  “And where are those friends?” I shift my body, leaning my hip against the bar and turning to face her. “Where were they when he had you pinned against this very spot?”

  She sucks her pouty bottom lip into her mouth, nibbling on it with her teeth. “Well, they were…” Her voice drifts off, and she looks into the crowd. “They’re somewhere around here.”

  “They’re probably shit-faced. I’ll walk you out. I won’t sleep right unless I know you’re safe.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why does it matter to you?” she asks, blinking at me like I’ve said the craziest shit she’s ever heard.

  “It’s how I was raised, Arlo. You see someone in trouble, you help. You see a woman in trouble, you step in and protect. Until you drive away, I got your back.”

  She gawks at me again, her eyes searching my face, probably not believing a word I’m saying. “But I’m no one,” she says almost flippantly, but there’s something about the look in her eyes that makes me feel like she believes that about herself.

  I tip my head to the side, furrowing my brows. “Say that again.”

  “I’m no one,” she repeats, but she doesn’t look at my face as she speaks. “And I’m most certainly not your problem. I’m sure there are plenty of pretty girls here who’d like your attention.”

  “Babe,” I clip out, pausing for a brief moment until I have her full and undivided attention. “One, don’t ever say you’re no one. You’re someone. Two, I don’t give two fucks about all the other pretty girls here. Three, the only beautiful woman I care about is the one standing in front of me. And four, you’re not a problem, and even if you were, I could use a problem like you.”

  Her body stills as I speak, and she clutches her chest, lips parted, blinking. “Well, I…”

  “And seeing as you shouldn’t drive after you’ve had too much to drink, we’re going to order some fries or maybe a greasy burger, talk for a little while, and then I’ll set you on your way.”

  “But I…”

  “Don’t like fries?” I raise my eyebrow again.

  “Everyone likes fries.”

  “Everyone?” I ask her.

  “Maybe not everyone, but those people are monsters.”

  “Then we’ll eat, yeah?”