Tyler (Inked Brotherhood 2)

“What did you expect?” I ask.

She shrugs and shifts the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “An explanation?”

My memory turns back to the day when I passed Zane her request. “He said I should ask you what sort of tattoo you want, and I’d know why he refuses to ink it on you.” I cock my head at her. “So, what did you have in mind?”

She huffs and glances around as if expecting someone to be watching her. Well, at least two guys are checking her out. She’s a pretty girl, her crazy hair framing a cute little face, and with her combat boots and cargo pants, she’s an interesting combination, I guess.

But maybe it doesn’t do it for Zane. Who knows.

“I asked him for a dragon tattoo.” She tugs on a silver hoop with a crescent moon hanging from her earlobe.

A dragon. Zane told me about the tats he inked on his friends. The brotherhood. “Why would you want that?”

“That’s what he keeps asking me.”

“And what’s your answer?”

She laughs softly. “That I won’t tell him unless he inks one on me first.”

Christ. I was sort of happy for this distraction from my dark thoughts, but now I’m irked. “Is this some sort of game? I don’t have time for it.”

“Not a game,” she mutters. Something shifts in her dark blue eyes, like a storm brewing. “This is important to me.”

“The tattoo, or Zane?”

She gives me a crooked smile. “Both. You see, Zane’s a survivor.”

I nod. I’m aware of that, but… “How do you know so much about him?”

She gives a one-shoulder shrug. “Been asking about him.”

The girl likes him. A surge of best-friend protectiveness washes over me. I’m not sure this crazy girl is what Zane needs in his life.

Then again, what do I know? I can’t even take care of my own love life.

“Why are you so insistent about getting a dragon tat?”

“Because.” She bites her lip. “It’s survivor’s ink, and I deserve it.”

With that, she turns around and walks away. I look at her go. Well, hell. Am I supposed to report this back to Zane? She didn’t ask me to.

I sigh and turn toward my car. I have a lesson to teach and dinner to make, to study and keep Tyler out of my mind.

If only it were that simple.

***

Come the night, I toss and turn in my bed. Hours pass without sleep, until I give up and turn the light back on.

It’s two in the morning. Tomorrow I’ll be like the walking dead. I pick up the novel I’m reading and try to focus on that, but the story is thin, and I quickly lose interest.

Letting the book drop back to the floor, I roll on my back and stare at the ceiling. I’ve filled it with glow-in-the-dark stars, like my bedroom back at my parents’ home where Jax now sleeps. I like looking at them. I feel warm and safe when I do, almost feeling Tyler’s arms around me, almost hearing his voice in my ear. His laughter.

This isn’t helping at all. No matter how I try to forget him, he’s all around me. Always was. And even when I try to erase his image from my mind, my body remembers how he touched me and filled me last night, and need rolls through me. The tips of my breasts tighten, and a throb starts between my legs, pulsing in time to my heart.

As I close my eyes, I touch my lips and remember how he kissed me, how he held me as if he wanted to meld with me forever. All I want to do is hop into my car and head over to his place, bang on his door and demand to be let back inside his apartment and his heart.

But I’m strong. I won’t do it. What little pride I have left will have to be enough to patch my wounds and move on.