Inked Fighter: Book One (BBW New Adult Romance) by E.E. Griffin Page A

prancing around the playpen. 
    Regan’s music was muffled from where I stood on the porch. I took a deep breath, taking in the fresh, damp scent. I let it sink into my lungs and infuse my skin. There was always so much to do that just a few moments of peace was essential for my continued sanity.
    I looked over the front-yard fence and saw a motorcycle cruising up the road. My breath hitched. It was Damien. He stopped in my driveway and kicked down his kickstand. Everything happened in slow motion. My stomach did flip-flops. He pulled off his helmet, and the rain splashed on his hair and rolled down his black leather jacket.
    He strode up the stairs to step in front of me under the porch roof. I was speechless. I knew my face was wide open, searching for answers. He looked at me as if he was starving, and I was a banquet. I’d never seen a man look at me like that.
    “You’re wet.”
    “It’s raining,” he said, moving toward me.
    “Do you want some tea?” I held my mug so tight it could have broken. Bradly ran past me out the front door, squeezed around Damien, and sprinted into the rain. Damien’s gaze didn’t move from my face. His lips parted and his eyes blazed into mine. They could have set me on fire.
    He stood so close to me, I could feel his breath on my forehead. I could smell the scent of wet leather and damp skin. My heart surged. I looked down and stepped backward through the door. My body protested as if I had declined free chocolate cake after starving for a month.
    “You want to hang out for a while?” I asked, acting like I didn’t want to throw myself at him. The music from upstairs pulsed through the house, and pressure pulsed between my legs. He followed me inside, glancing down at Rose. He could hear the pounding music.
    “Do you have company?” he asked.
    “My sister does.”
    “Oh. You said something about tea?”
    I sighed with relief and went to the kitchen. He closed the door behind him and slid off his jacket, draping it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.
    His black t-shirt was damp, and it clung to his chest. I could see the outline of his chiseled pecs and rock-hard six-pack, and it made me weak in the knees. I put tea bags in two cups and poured hot water over them. I flavored the tea with milk and honey and handed him a cup.
    We moved into the living room, where I put my cup on the coffee table and took Rose out of her playpen to let her play on the floor. She toddled to Damien and did a little knee-bend dance while holding his leg. He chuckled at her. Baby cuteness was hard to resist.
    I sipped my tea and watched him watching my baby. She giggled at him while he made funny faces. Rose reached out to be picked up. Damien glanced at me, and I nodded. He lifted her onto his lap. 
    He held her against his chest, and the sight of it made me feel like crying for joy. A missing part that I’d buried reemerged like a spring flower. I didn’t know if I could let the tender shoots grow and take root. I should squash it before it was too late.

Chapter Eight: Damien
    I sat on her couch and held her baby. Claire was so soft, so perfect, and so insanely cute in her old hippie house. I wanted to know what made her so strong and gentle in this harsh, jaded world. Even in the middle of my personal mess, she was suddenly I all wanted.
    “Sorry, I didn’t call. I finished the tattoo design and was in the neighborhood.”
    “It’s a little chaotic around here,” she said with a nervous laugh.
    “Do you want to see it?”
    “Yeah. Absolutely.”
    Music blared from upstairs. A door slammed and loud footsteps rolled down the stairs behind me. I turned and saw a redhead in short shorts standing on the stairs.
    “Who’s he?” asked the redhead.
    “Regan, this is Damien Cruz. Damien, this is my older sister Regan.”
    I looked at Regan and back to Claire. They looked like sisters, but Regan was a few inches taller and had very curly, very red hair. Claire’s hair was straight