Dirty Sexy Inked (Dirty Sexy 2)

But this increasing moodiness of Katrina’s over the past few months? Jesus, he felt as though he were tiptoeing through a minefield, and he had no fucking idea how to deal with the situation, or her, without everything blowing up in his face.

Despite all the rough and terrible things she’d gone through in her life, she’d always managed to keep that shit buried deep inside and maintain an upbeat facade. She’d always been the one to make him smile on a bad day, or talk him out of a funk, or crack a joke when he, himself, was in a pissy mood.

Not so much lately.

So what the hell was going on with her? Katrina had never been one to show signs of PMS, so that theory was out. She wasn’t in a relationship, so he didn’t have to worry about some guy treating her badly. Then again, her irritation was always directed at him, and no one else. She was polite and cheerful with clients at Inked. She even joked around and teased the other employees in the shop, but when he attempted to join in on the fun, she shut him down and shut him out.

Just like now.

Jamming a hand through his hair in frustration, he glanced at her as the plane finally leveled out. Her eyes were still closed, giving him free rein to really take in her appearance. He loved her blonde hair that was tipped in purple and fell around her shoulders in soft waves. The funky style matched her unique personality, as did the clothes she wore. Today she was dressed in a pair of acid-wash jeans and a long gray tank shirt that was accented with black lace trim for a bit of an edge. The sleeveless top exposed the array of colorful butterfly tattoos covering her entire arm and all the way up the side of her neck.

Being a tattooist himself, he could honestly say that the female artist who had inked Katrina’s skin had done a stunning job—with the artwork and tattoo itself, and for giving Katrina back her sense of self-worth. Mason was one of the few people who knew of the physical and emotional scars the intricate design concealed, and he often wished that he’d been the one to lay that ink on her instead.

His gaze traveled back up to her face, leisurely

taking in her delicate features—the sweep of her long, dark lashes, her cute, pert nose, all that creamy skin, and those soft, full lips that were made to cushion a man’s cock.

Yeah, he fucking went there.

He swallowed back a groan as a blast of heat and the secret desire he harbored for his best friend made his dick twitch with awareness. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d thought of Katrina in a sexual way. Hell, she’d flip out if she knew that she was his go-to fantasy when he woke up in the morning with a hard-on and wrapped his fingers around his cock. As he stroked himself, all it took were erotic mental images of her moaning and arching beneath him as he sank deep inside of her tight, slick flesh to get him off every single time, and quickly, too.

He was a goddamn pervert for thinking of her that way. She was his best friend, for crying out loud, and there was no way he’d ever fuck that up with sex. Ever. Katrina meant way too much to him to ever cross that line, no matter how much his dick protested his decision. She was his rock, the one person he always knew he could depend on to be there for him, no matter what. She knew things about him that no one else did and accepted him despite his flaws and weaknesses.

Most importantly, she was the one and only woman he’d ever trusted—fucking mommy issues, he thought bitterly—and he’d never do anything to jeopardize what the two of them had been through together, and what they shared as best friends.

Which was why her odd behavior lately piqued his concern, and he certainly didn’t like how it felt as though she was distancing herself from him. Something was definitely off, and he had to admit that the thought of losing Katrina in any capacity scared the shit out of him.

He rubbed his clammy palms down his jean-clad thighs, hating the uncertainties that were growing stronger and stronger with each passing day. He didn’t want to panic, but something was up with Katrina, and the fact that he couldn’t pinpoint the issue was driving him nuts. When they returned from this trip, he planned on finding out what, exactly, was causing her mood swing.

Being in first class, the passengers had their own attendant, and Mason turned his attention to the woman who’d flirted with him earlier, who was now taking refreshment orders and working her way down the aisle toward his row.

When she reached him, he read her name tag—Tawny—as she gave him an inviting smile. “So, Mason, here I am, at your service,” she said, taking her cue from his earlier flirtatious comment. “What can I get for you?”

He didn’t miss the way she’d deliberately left out the words to drink. Oh, yeah, she was definitely playing his kind of game, and since Katrina was giving him the cold shoulder, he welcomed the distraction. “What would you recommend, Tawny?”

She licked her glossy lips, her brown eyes all but eating him up. “What I’d like to recommend isn’t on the airline’s menu.”

He chuckled, recognizing an overture when he heard one. “In that case, I’ll take a Sprite . . . for now.”

She wrote his order on her note pad, then glanced past him to Katrina—who was oblivious to everything except what she was listening to through her earbuds, her eyes still closed. “Would your girlfriend care for anything?” Tawny asked with a curious raise of her brow.

Girlfriend. The word was so foreign to him, not just in terms of Katrina, but because he’d never stayed with a woman long enough to get romantically or intimately involved beyond sex, which was what that word implied. But he knew what Tawny was getting at, even if she didn’t seem overly concerned if he was taken.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he assured the pretty flight attendant, though with Katrina sitting by his side, he felt an odd and unexpected moment of regret that made absolutely no fucking sense to him.

Tawny grinned at him. “That’s good to know.”

“I’m not sure what she wants, so I’ll have her press the service button when she wakes up.” Or whatever Katrina was doing. She’d been the one to blatantly ignore him, and he wasn’t about to disturb her and risk rousing the shrew again.

Tawny turned to Levi and Tara and took their drink orders, too, then headed back toward the galley at the front of the plane. A few minutes later, she appeared again holding a tray with everyone’s drinks, and starting with the first row, she passed out the refreshments until she reached Mason again.

She placed a note on his tray and tapped it with her finger, drawing his gaze to the digits she’d written on the piece of paper. “I’m laid over in Vegas for the weekend, so if you’re up for some fun, give me a call.”

“I might just do that,” he replied with a wink. He was certain that, after the wedding tomorrow afternoon, he’d have plenty of free time on his hands, and it was nice to have a sure thing lined up.

Once she was gone, Mason lifted the note so Levi could see the phone number and gave his brother a smirk. “I haven’t even gotten to Vegas and I’ve already scored.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Seriously, dude?”