He stops when he sees me. “What are you doing here?”

I don’t answer him at first. I get out some bread and put it in the toaster before turning to look at him. He’s still in his boxers, giving me a perfect view of his hard body and colorful tattoos along his arms and chest. Any other time, I’d hide my reaction of seeing him like this. But not now, not after everything I know. I let my gaze travel down the length of his body. I swear his dick twitches as if he’s wanting to say hi. Like a hussy, I lick my lips. “I gave you a ride home last night.”

He stops and watches me watching him. The longer he stands there, the bigger the bulge gets between his thighs.

He clears his throat as I walk toward him. He points to the bedroom. “I’ll go get dressed.”

But I stop him before he gets away. When I’m standing right in front of him, I search his face. His eyes widen, his nostrils flare, and there’s a vein on the side of his neck vibrating against his skin. I put my hand to his chest, and he inhales deeply as his body jerks under my touch. “I’ve gotta go. I put you some bread in the toaster. You should probably try to eat something.” Then I do it. I lean forward and press my lips to his. He groans loudly, and I couldn’t stop the smile if I tried. “I’ll see you at work later.”

Speechless, he stares back at me, and I grab my purse. I turn and look at him as I reach and open the door. He’s still standing there, mouth hanging wide open, staring at me. I glance at his nether regions, and yep, there’s no doubt he wants me. I give him a wave, and I’m out the door. He’s not going to act on his attraction to me. That much is obvious. I guess I’m going to have to be the one to initiate things.

8

Dawson

I kissed Emily last night. As soon as she kissed me as I was standing in my boxers in the doorway to my bedroom, flashbacks from last night started raging through my mind. I kissed Emily last night. What the fuck was I thinking? Not only did I kiss her, but I kissed her in a bar for any and everyone to see.

Fuck!

By the time the afternoon comes around, I’ve convinced myself to just let it go. Nothing is going to come of it. Nothing.

I keep telling myself that all night. I’ve done three piercings, well, I’ve done one, and Emily did the other two. One was a dick piercing, and there’s no way I was going to be able to stand there while she had her hand on another guy’s dick.

Emily has been openly staring at me all night, and I’ve already gotten the speech from Aiden about how work and personal life don’t mix. This from the guy that has his wife in here helping out and drawing tattoos, but I get what he means, and I assured him that I was keeping things on the up and up.

I’m completely on edge by the end of the night, and I know I’m not going to make it through another piercing where I have to be so close to Emily.

“Your last appointment’s here,” she says, standing at the doorway to my room.

I nod. “Thanks. Send him in.”

She watches me, waiting for something else, but I don’t say anything. She walks out, and I suck in a deep breath. I’m back to hurting her now. Fuck, I can’t get this right.

“What’s up, Reed?”

John, also known as Knuckles, walks in the room with his hand held out. I grab on to it and shake it. “Nothing much, same ol’, same ol’. How about you? How you been?”

He sits down in the chair and lies back. “I’m good. Really good, actually. My sister moved to Whiskey Run.”

I get out my equipment, trying to recall what he said about his sister in the past. I search my memory. “Oh yeah, she’s from LA, right?”

“Yep, that’s right. She’s getting married.”

“Married? Anyone you know?”

He nods. “Yep, I work with him. It’s a long story, but I couldn’t have picked anyone better for her.”

I nod. John works out on the stretch of highway between Whiskey Run and Jasper. I’m not sure exactly what it is that he does, but I know he and his friends are not anyone you mess with. They’re all ex-military. “Well, that’s a relief, I guess. Where we doing this at?” I ask him.

John is probably my number one client. He comes here for all his tattoos. “Right here,” he says, pointing to the bare skin on his ribcage.

He opens up his phone and shows me an image of what he wants. This is smaller piece and more personal than the other ones, but I’ve learned not to ask questions with John. He doesn’t like explaining himself. “You got it.”

Tags: Hope Ford Whiskey Run Savage Ink Romance
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