Pretty In Ink Read Online Free PDF Page B

after.
    Wishful fucking thinking.
    The way a man was capable of making me feel in the first time we had sex, only to fade into complete nothingness when he wouldn’t return my text messages two weeks later, led me to believe something was wrong with me. It didn’t take long for me to learn that all men treated women the same way, and that I wasn’t being singled out nor was I excluded.
    It was just men being men.
    Eventually I realized that I, like every other woman on this earth, had fallen victim to a man simply doing what it was that he was destined to do.
    Use women.
    Still, I hoped. Sooner or later, I figured I’d find a man who would treat me right, or at least come close. I had been with Bart for a longer period of time than anyone, but after a few years his true colors were painfully obvious. Even through the beatings, I still hoped things would eventually change. I told myself it was the price I had to pay for being in a relationship, and I was even willing to pay it, at least for a while.
    One day I decided black eyes and a broken heart was too high of a price to pay for anything.
    Bad boys. Alpha males. Tattoos. Loud motorcycles. Rough sex. These were the things I was attracted to. Considering my loss record was at one hundred percent with my previous choices in men, I decided to give Wilson a try. He was obviously different, and in addition to the differences I was able to clearly see, I hoped he possessed differences deep down inside that I was unable to see.
    But my gut told me in time he was sure to end up being like all the rest.
    “What do you feel like eating?” he asked.
    His hair looked like he ran his hands through it and raked it out of his eyes. It was thick and brown and his closely shaved face had transformed into a full day’s growth of beard, probably from not having time to shave before he came to get me. All things considered, he looked marvelous. Instead of staring at him and making him think I was some kind of weirdo, I chose to look out the window and have him believe I was hard to get.
    I shrugged my shoulders and stared out the side window. “I don’t know.”
    I hated making decisions. I preferred the man make the decisions and tell me where we were going to go, what we were going to do, and what we would eat. In my mind, it was his job. And it was my job to grin and comply with his wishes.
    “I have a pretty broad palate,” he said. “I can eat just about anything.”
    “Donuts,” I murmured as I turned to face him.
    He shifted his eyes from the road toward me and slowly raised one eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
    “Donuts. I want donuts,” I said.
    His face washed over with surprise. “For dinner?” he asked.
    I nodded my head.
    Fuck it. I’ll find out really quick if he’s a prick or if he’s not.
    “Donuts it is,” he said as he glanced over his shoulder and changed lanes.
    “Ever had donuts for dinner?” I asked.
    “Can’t say that I have,” he responded with a shake of his head.
    “Me neither,” I said. “But they sound good.”
    “They do sound good. I can’t even tell you the last time I had a donut,” he said.
    As his hair fell down into his eyes, he brushed it back with his hand as if it were second nature. The more I looked at him, the more I decided I really didn’t like bikers. I liked the thought of a biker, but I liked looking at Wilson, and I liked looking at him a lot. He was pretty in a manly kind of way and I was beginning to really enjoy it.
    “Chocolate Long John,” I said. “Best donut ever.”
    “Jelly-filled are my favorites,” he said as he turned the corner. “When I was a kid my mother used to bring them home…”
    He shook his head and gazed through the windshield as if remembering something magical from his childhood. His hair fell into his eyes again, but he didn’t bother to brush it away. After a long moment, he turned toward me and smiled.
    My heart fluttered a little.
    “Donut dinner,” he said. “I like