I didn’t follow. A thousand reasons I could defeat with a smile and another of those addicting kisses, but not that one. She deserved the new start, and I had no right to bull through her resistance because my cock itched for her.
I headed down the hall a couple minutes after her. She stood with her head on the door to the supply closet. Defeat had settled into her shoulders, and that pissed me off so much I wanted to hit something. I sucked in a breath and let it out, bringing that anger back inside me. “I get it.”
She cringed when I spoke.
“I’ll back off. You want this, just say so. Otherwise, we’re cool.”
She whipped around and studied me. “Really? That easy?”
I cocked my head. “I wasn’t easy on you.”
“You’ll just back off?”
What kind of pricks did she hook up with? “Yeah, don’t mean I don’t have a powerful thirst for you, but I’d be a dick not to respect what you said.” I turned away from her and walked out the door.
I wished there was another woman I could take to bed to erase her from my system, but I knew it’d only make me want her more. I called Jericho, telling him to get the whiskey ready. “Man, last night was just the warm-up. We’re drinking until neither of us can get out of bed tomorrow.”
“Turned you down cold.” Jericho’s laugh echoed in my ear.
Chapter Four: Lila
Four weeks had passed in a blur of activity. I’d met most of the regulars and understood the business enough to start making small improvements to how the shop was run. I’d gotten permission from Dare to enlarge a few of the illustrations they’d drawn for tattoos and hang them up front. I didn’t want the cheap look of tat art and photos pinned everywhere, but a few quality pieces made an impression. The books worked better for customers who were not sure what they wanted. But most of the time, the guys drew custom pieces for clients. The books were just a way to get started.
Dare.
I’ve never been more confused in my life. After that night in the shop, he’d backed off in most ways. While he left no doubt he wanted me, he didn’t kiss me when I bit my lip, I’d tested that one more than once. He didn’t touch me at every opportunity, but the potential hung between us. While I was proud of myself for sticking to my guns, my lonely bed was a terrible consolation prize.
Both Zayn and Dare had appointments at six. Rock had left about twenty minutes earlier, promising to be back at seven when his next customer arrived. I’d decided to finish straightening up and head upstairs for a break since we had a two-hour gap before the next clients came.
Before I’d finished cleaning up, Dare and Zayn showed up in reception.
“We’re bored,” Zayn grumbled. “Dare gave me some new ink, but now we need more volunteers.”
He didn’t point at me, but he just as well should have. “Um, I’d like some new ink too, but I’m working. And I never did hear the discount.”
The two broke out in laughter.
“What’s so funny?” I frowned with hands on hips. I hated being the butt of a joke when I didn’t understand the joke.
“Red, there’s no cost for artwork for employees, just schedule it, or do it when we’re slow, like now.” Dare’s face was blank, impossible to read.
Did he want to ink me?
I’d fantasized about him inking me, but those sessions had ended in erotic ways—each more inventive than the last. I either needed to invite Dare home or find someone to relieve this massive horny need I’d developed for dirty sex.
“Well?” Zayn tapped his foot. “Can we draw on you?”
“What?”
Dare flashed that sexy grin. “I want to ink up here below your neck, noticed it was bare the other night. And Zayn wants to work low moving onto your side.” He paused while he wet his lips with a darting flick of his talented tongue. “You ever had two at once?”
Holy hell, that was one of my fantasies—two guys at once on Dare’s table. Heat flooded through me just thinking about my fantasy.
“Uh, tattoos, he means tattoos.” Zayn grinned. “Right, Dare?”
He lifted one side of his mouth in that lazy lopsided grin of his. “If you say so. Up for the challenge?”
“Yeah, hell yeah. I’ve missed the iron and the bite of the needle.” I hadn’t even thought through the consequences, or if there would be any, because I wanted what they’d described.
“You have ideas about what kind of art you want?” Dare asked. “Or is it all the same?”
I frowned at him. All the same? “Yes, it matters what art is on my body. Each piece has a story, whether inspiration or lesson.”