I nodded. “Fair.”
“She talked about you,” Marco added after a moment, and I went still. “After that book club night. She smiled when she did, the first real smile I’ve seen from her in months.”
My chest ached.
“You’re getting her name tattooed on your thigh,” Dom said, “because you’re in love with her. That’s the deal, right?”
“Yes.”
“Most people would call that crazy.”
“I’m aware.”
Dom nodded slowly. Then he leaned forward, his voice dropping low. “Don’t hurt her. She’s been through enough shit with that Damien asshole. She deserves better.”
“I won’t hurt her.” It came out like a vow. Like an oath sworn before the Moon Goddess herself. “And neither will anyone else. Not anymore.”
“That so?”
“That’s so.”
The three men exchanged another look. “Alright then,” Dom said finally. “Let me finish this tattoo.”
Dom was finishing the final letter when I felt it.
A tug in my chest, a warmth spreading through my veins. The mate bond, the connection between us, flaring to life with a very strong emotion: arousal.
Riley was aroused.
My entire body went rigid on the table.
“You okay?” Dom asked, pausing the needle again.
“Fine.” My voice sounded strangled even to my own ears. “Muscle cramp.”
I was not fine. I was the opposite of fine. Because the arousal flooding through the bond was intense. Building, spiraling, unmistakably Riley. I could feel it like it was my own, heat pooling low in my stomach, my cock stirring in my pants.
Was she with someone? The thought sent ice through my veins, followed immediately by volcanic rage. If someone else was touching her, if someone else was making her feel like this...
I forced myself to focus. Shut out the buzz of the tattoo gun, the low music playing in the shop, the distant sounds of traffic outside. Narrowed my hearing to the apartment above us.
It was quiet, no voices or a second heartbeat. Just Riley’s, fast and getting faster. She was alone.
Oh.
Oh no.
She was touching herself.
My cock went from stirring to achingly hard in approximately two seconds flat. I was lying on a tattoo chair in a room full of men, getting Riley’s name inked into my thigh, and I was getting hard because she was pleasuring herself in the apartment directly overhead.
This was a nightmare. This was actual hell.
“Almost done,” Dom said, oblivious to my crisis. “Just need to finish the Y.”
The Y. Great. The Y. I could hear Riley through the ceiling, soft gasps barely audible to human ears but clear as day to me now that I was focusing on them. A whimper, the rustle of sheets, the catch of breath that meant she was getting close.
My cock strained against my jeans, precum soaking my briefs.
