“You can leave now,” I snap, trying to ignore the heat crawling up my neck.
He steps back, releasing me, and my eyes betray me, roaming the length of him. The tattoos snaking up his forearms. The way his shirt stretches across his shoulders. The scar on his eyebrow—that tiny slash he got the day he caught me mid-fall when we were kids and I almost broke my face on a tree trunk. I want to touch it. I want to find out if it’s still raised the way it used to be.
“Should I expect you tonight?”
“Is that an invitation?” he throws back, smirking like the cocky bastard he is.
“Since when have you needed one?”
He moves closer again, lowers his face, and places a kiss on my shoulder. It’s so strangely intimate, and my heart doesn’t feel ready for it. Then he walks away without another word, and once again, I’m left not knowing what the hell I’m doing, what game we’re playing, or how the hell I’m supposed to win when he’s already three moves ahead.
I pull out my phone and fire off a text to Lianna.
Are you busy tonight?
LIANNA: Not yet. Why? You okay?
Yeah. You want a sleepover?
LIANNA: Sure, but I haven’t been railed in days, and if you so much as breathe near me, I might try to scissor you.
I burst out laughing, and of course, she doubles down.
LIANNA: I’m serious. You know I’ll try anything once, twice if it moans for me.
Then try it with one of the girls from the club.
LIANNA: Please. I can’t sleep with an employee. Even I have limits.
But scissoring your best friend is fine?
LIANNA: Only because you won’t file a lawsuit, and we’d probably just laugh about it tomorrow.
Chapter 6
Phoenix
I pushopen the door to the studio, and the scent of antiseptic and ink cuts through the air.
“Take a seat. I’ll be right with you, Phoenix.” He turns back to his call. “Gotta go, firefly. I’ll pick you up from rehearsals later. Love you.” He slips the phone into his pocket and turns back to me with an easy shrug. “Sorry. My wife barely gets a break these days.”
“No problem,” I say, settling into the chair.
“So, the design you sent me, you want it on the back of your neck?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a fresh piece on my back, so just above that.” I pull my T-shirt over my head, the cotton dragging across my skin before I twist in the chair.
His brows lift, and a low whistle escapes. “Nice…” He shakes his head with a laugh. “I’m a little hurt you got someone else to do these, man.”
Tobias has done all my tattoos that I can’t reach myself since I found him in New York.
“You know I would’ve come to you if I’d been here, but I had them done when I was in Indiana.”
“They did a hell of a job. Clean work.” He leans in, examining the lines. “How long has it been?”
“Not even a week.”
“It’s healing really well,” he murmurs, almost to himself, before looking at me again.
