Wrecked (Dirty Air 3)

Seriously, I don’t know where this guy learned his moves, but he amps up the charm by the hour. I find the whole display hilarious.

We enter a chic office I’d never associate with tattoos. A modern chandelier hangs above us, highlighting the welcoming waiting room.

“This place is awesome,” I whisper to Jax. My eyes linger on the way his black button-down shirt clings to his arms, emphasizing muscles I was clutching onto the other day. Ones I want to trace my tongue across.

Jax’s fingers lift my chin up before he winks. Busted.

My cheeks flush before I scan the accent wall to our left.

“The wallpaper is made up of designs Alan did. Maybe if you look long enough, you’ll find one or two of mine.” Jax shrugs.

“No way! That’s amazing.” I check out the different patterns as Caleb and Jax review the paperwork.

I get lost in the designs, loving the mix of colors and art the owner created. My fingers hover over a snake that looks familiar. “Found one!”

“It looks creepier when it’s staring at me like that.” Jax walks up to my side, heat emanating from his body.

I tug at his hand without thinking. An electric rush surges through me, like someone is holding a sparkler to my skin. “The snake slithering through the skeleton bones is what makes it creepy.”

He stares at my hand touching his. “Why?”

“It’s morbid.”

His lips turn down. “I got it in honor of my dad.”

And now I feel like shit. “I didn’t mean to—”

A small smile tugs at his lips. “I’m teasing you. Like Caleb said, the King Cobra used to kick ass back in the day. This is my tribute to him.”

“And the bones?”

Jax’s fingers intertwine with mine. “Well, that’s more of a badassery thing. You wouldn’t get it.”

“You’re the last person who needs tattoos to prove how badass you are.”

He tilts his head at me. “Was that a compliment?”

I roll my eyes while grinning. “Don’t get used to them.”

“Jax, stop hitting on my date. Let’s go!” Caleb waves at us from the hallway.

Jax looks like he wants to say something, but I tug on his hand. We follow Caleb to the back room where Jax’s tattoo artist, Alan, sets up his supplies.

Caleb settles onto the main chair while Alan preps his skin. Jax and I sit next to each other in the cramped corner. My body becomes aware of his proximity, with his legs brushing against mine.

Desire tugs at my stomach when Jax laces his fingers together with mine again. His thumb rubs over the thin bones of my hand, evoking goosebumps across my skin.

“That’s really what you want, mate?” Jax eyes the sketch of Caleb’s tattoo.

“Yup.”

Jax nods at Alan, fighting a smile. “Give the kid what he wants.”

Caleb sits through the pain, making jokes as Alan inks the letters. The process is rather short. Our new friend shows off his tattoo located on the inside of his arm where I usually get blood taken out.

I trace around the red skin to avoid hurting him. “‘No rain, no flowers.’ Interesting choice for someone your age.”

“It’s my mom’s favorite quote.”