“Would you like a doughnut?” I glance up to see the man holding up a chocolate-covered doughnut. It looks delicious, and I’m two seconds away from accepting his offer when I remember my closet full of clothes that are becoming too tight. That one doughnut will easily take me hours at the gym to burn off.
“No, thank you.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
Smiling tightly, I look back at the magazine and spend the next several minutes absently thumbing through it. I skim a few articles then toss the magazine on the table and grab another, my frustration growing with each passing second.
“Are you ready?”
I glance up to find the sexy stranger standing in front of me. Putting the magazine back on the table, I look around. “Is Connor here?”
The man smiles, his full lips parting to reveal perfectly white teeth. There’s a smudge of chocolate near the corner of his mouth, and I briefly wonder what he would do if I stepped forward and licked it off.
“I’m Connor,” he says. His words catch me off guard and all thoughts of chocolate drift from my mind. My eyes roam his face, only this time I take a closer look.
“You’re Connor?” I ask incredulously.
“Wow,” he says, chuckling. “Don’t look so surprised. I take it I’m not what you expected.” His voice is clipped, and I instantly berate myself for the way that came out.
“No.” I shake my head vehemently. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. You’re an incredibly attractive man. It’s just that you look different from when you were on the show. You didn’t have the facial hair—or the long hair, for that matter—both of which I find unbelievably sexy.” Connor’s eyes widen and I realize what I said. “I can’t believe I just said that. Damn it,” I mumble, averting my eyes. This is what happens when I get nervous, and for some strange reason, Connor makes me nervous. Sighing, I decide to give up. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”
My eyes are trained on the floor as I contemplate leaving to avoid further embarrassment. I’m still
undecided when a pair of Chuck T’s enters my line of sight. I smile because those are my favorite shoes. “So you like the beard?” he says suggestively, causing me to look up. His blue eyes are swirling with a mixture of amusement and lust.
“I like the beard.”
Connor grins as though he just found out he won a prize. Without saying a word, he steps away and I follow behind. Leading me into a small room in the back of the shop, he says, “Did you find something in the magazine that you want?”
“I actually have a picture of what I want.”
“Let’s see it.”
I walk toward him and hold out my phone. Connor takes the phone, examines the picture then looks up.
“Where do you want it?”
“Here.” Lifting my right arm, I tug my shirt up and point to the location along my rib cage, just under my breast.
“I like that,” he says, handing me my phone. “But what if we angled it just a bit like this…” Connor puts a finger at the top of my ribs and a tiny zap of electricity jolts through my body. He looks up, his eyes searching mine before he drags the tip of his index finger along my skin. His touch leaves a trail of goose bumps. My pulse quickens, and it takes everything I have not to beg him to keep touching me when he pulls away.
“What do you think?” he asks. His pupils are dilated, his breathing a bit faster, and I get the feeling he was as affected by that as I was.
“I”—my voice cracks and I flush with embarrassment—“I like it. Plus, you’re the expert so I’ll leave it completely up to you.”
Connor swallows hard and my eyes follow the movement. “Good choice.” He turns away. “All right, have a seat here,” he says, gesturing toward the reclined chair, and I sit down. “Turn this way.” He angles my body to the left. “Is that comfortable?”
“Yep.”
“Good,” he mumbles, tugging my shirt up to expose my right side again.
The soft cotton slips down and he pushes it back up, only this time his hand brushes against my bra, grazing the outside of my breast. Another jolt passes through me, only this time it’s stronger. His eyes snap to mine, and I know—I know—that he felt that. As I bite down on my bottom lip, his sinful eyes flash with heat, and I watch him take a ragged breath before turning away.
“So…is, uh, is this your first tattoo?” he stammers, bringing his eyes back to mine.
“Nope. I have another one.”
“Good, so you know what to expect.” I nod, and then he smiles brightly before getting his equipment ready. “Okay,” he says. He rubs my skin with something cool and I presume he’s prepping it. “Let’s do this.”