Torrid (Whiskey Run Savage Ink 2) - Page 4

Again, his hand touches me, but this time it wraps around my hand that’s holding the strap of my purse. “No, that’s not it. It’s a free consultation. No strings.”

Gracie has been standing here the whole time, her head going back and forth between us, and her eyes lit up in mischief as she says to me, “Really, Trey is great. He’s one of the good ones. You can trust him.”

I nod. “Okay, I mean sure. I’m already here,” I say, but what I really want to do is run out the door.

Trey stands aside and opens his palm to point toward the back. “After you.”

“It was nice seeing you, Katie. I’m leaving, Trey,” Gracie calls out to us.

“Bye, Gracie. Be careful,” Trey says as he follows behind me. “Second door on the right.”

I keep walking and turn into the open door. I go across the room and sit in the chair, holding my purse in my lap as tight as I can. When I notice my knuckles turning white, I make myself stretch my fingers out, and I drop my purse onto the chair next to me.

Trey walks in and leans his butt against the big chair in the room. I’m assuming by the looks of it, it’s the chair that people sit in when they’re getting a tattoo. He crosses his arms over his chest, and I force myself to keep looking at his face instead of the hard muscles of his arms. “You’re nervous.”

I start to laugh, but then, for fear of snorting again, I stop suddenly. “Yeah, a little.”

“Is it the pain? Because it’s really not that bad. And depending on where you want it, we can try it so you can see what it’s all about. I’ll stop if you say stop.”

I shake my head. “It’s not the pain.”

He’s looking at me with his head tilted to the side. He’s searching my face for answers. “Well, what is it?”

I shake my head, not wanting to say. Maybe he’ll drop it. Maybe if I change the subject. “How long have you been tattooing?”

He laughs. “You’re nervous that I don’t know what I’m doing? I’ve been tattooing for over ten years. I graduated from college in art design, discovered I could make more money off tattooing, and became a licensed tattoo artist. I follow every safety and sanitizing guideline. I attend conferences to keep up to date on new techniques, and—”

I interrupt him. “I wasn’t worried about your skills or anything. I mean, how could I? You’re like a walking billboard of your talent.” I can feel my face heat. You didn’t have to say all that, Katie. But the smile he gives me makes my embarrassment worth it.

He stands to his full height and walks toward me. He picks up my purse that’s on the chair next to me and hangs it on the hook on the wall before dropping in the seat next to mine. “So it’s not the pain and it’s not that you’re worried about my skills. What’s stopping you then?”



She’s about to space out again. I can see it. But this time instead of asking her about it, I wait. She’s beautiful with her short brown hair that curls around her face. Her eyes are big and expressive, and from the minute our eyes met, I knew she was attracted to me. Fuck, the feeling is mutual. When I first walked in, she had her back to me, and all I could look at was her ass in those jeans. I’ve never wanted to grab on to something so badly in my life. But even though she’s attracted to me, she’s not comfortable with the feeling. I’m used to having women throw themselves at me or flirt endlessly. She’s doing none of those things. It figures the one time I feel something for a woman, she is going to fight it.

She takes a deep breath and blows it out. She turns in the chair to face me, and when she realizes how close we are, she stands up and starts to pace. I still don’t say anything. I just follow her with my eyes and take in her curvy ass and the way it fills out her jeans. She’s beautiful, but it doesn’t seem like she realizes it. I have to drag my eyes up to her face when she stops suddenly and looks at me. In one long jumble of random musings, she stuns me. “I wanted a butterfly tattoo and maybe to have you cover up a stretch mark. You could match my skin tone... You can do that, right? I’ve heard of that being done. But now I don’t think it’s a good idea. I really expected to walk in here and have some guy with a big beer gut and long beard, possibly named Bubba, to be the one doing the tattooing. I didn’t expect you, and well, there’s just no way I’m going to bare this to you so I shouldn’t waste any more of your time. I should probably just go.” Her face is red, and once she’s done with her tirade, she walks toward her purse.

Tags: Hope Ford Whiskey Run Savage Ink Romance
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