Tempting (Inked Hearts 1)

"I've lost an appreciation for chaos."

"And your hair?"

"I no longer strive to piss off my parents."

She laughs. "Good. The dark hair suits you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You've got the whole tall, dark, and handsome thing down pat."

The waitress drops off our drinks. "Your food will be out shortly."

"Thanks." I take a long sip. It's too fast. A waste of good whiskey. But I need something quieting that voice that keeps reminding me that Anna isn't Kaylee. That no one else in the universe is Kaylee.

It's a quick fuck.

I'm going to make her come.

It shouldn't matter that she isn't Kaylee.

It's not like I've ever required an intense connection with a woman. Sure, it's a perk. Especially if we're moving past vanilla.

If I want to tie someone up, I need them to trust me. And I need to trust them to be honest about their limits.

But that comes easier than you'd think.

I take another sip. A slower one. It's good. Rich with that hint of toffee.

Anna brings her wine to her lips. Leaves a red stain on the glass.

That lipstick could be staining my cock.

But picturing those red lips straining around me—

It isn't doing anything to get my blood flowing south.

"So..." She traces the outline of her wine glass. Shoots me that aren't you going to bring up your reputation look. "Are you still punk rock?"

"I still listen to The Clash, but the rest of it—"

She nods. "Life forces you to be a square." She taps the table with her French-manicured nails. "I never was punk rock, but I was pretty sure I wouldn't grow up to be this."

"A woman with a badass teddy bear tattoo who invites guys out to bars for one-night stands?"

She laughs. "An executive assistant. But that too." She takes a long sip of her glass. "It's funny. This would have been a nightmare job to be at fifteen. But I love it."

"I know what you mean."

"And the other part... I think my past self would be proud."

"Yeah?"

"But you give yourself too much credit. I haven't decided if I'm sleeping with you or not."

That's bullshit. It's in her eyes. She's picturing me naked. She's even licking her lips.

It's not my personality or my conversational skills.