Red.
I sigh and swipe it two more times just to be sure, and each time the stupid little light mocks me by refusing to turn green. Growling, I kick the door and immediately regret it, hopping back and clutching my foot like an idiot.
“What are you doing?”
I drop my foot and spin around.
Aksel stands in the doorway across from mine, fresh from the shower and dripping wet, wearing nothing but a towel slung low on his hips.
My mouth goes dry.
A bead of water slides from his collarbone down the deep V of his waist, and my eyes traitorously follow it. His tattoos, black and gray, clean and deliberate, are scattered across his skin in a way that looks unintentional yet perfectly planned. My stare screeches to a halt when I notice the tattoo on his left pec.
A simple outline of a siren tail.
…Weird.
I realize I’ve been staring for way longer than is sociallyacceptable,andsnapmygazeaway.Iclearmy throat, loud and awkward. “Uh… I'm locked out of my room.” I hate how breathy my voice sounds.
He steps toward me without hesitation, plucks the keycard from my hand, and gently but firmly moves me aside with both hands on my shoulders. My brain shorts out completely. Towel. Wet skin. Heat. He holds the card to the scanner.
Beep. Beep.
The light turns green.
“What the fuck,” I mutter. Even the door is against me. “I swear it wasn’t working a second ago.”
He pulls on the handle and swings the door open beforeslipping the keycard into the back pocket of my old jeans with an eyebrow raised expectantly.
“Thanks,” I murmur reluctantly, assuming he was waiting for some gratitude.
He sends me his signature cocky smirk as he walks backwards towards his open room. “Welcome, Fylgja,” he answers smugly before his door clicks shut behind him. I growl impotently once he's gone. I hate that stupid fucking nickname. I tried googling it once when we were in high school, but I could never spell it right. I still don’t know what it means, and it drives me crazy if I think about it too hard.
I pick up my bag and stumble inside, leaning heavily against the closed door. Sliding down until my ass hits the carpet, my mind is a jumble of racing thoughts. I shift uncomfortably, refusing to look down at my dick. I already know what I’ll see.
I’m hard.
And wet.
I always amaround Aksel.
I hate my reaction to him. You would think years of never seeing each other would lessen the attraction, but nope. If anything, it's gotten worse.
Fuck.
My.
Life.
Chapter Two
Aksel
“So,Aksel,thetattoocommunityisrelativelysmall,
yet you’ve made quite a name for yourself in a very short time. If I’m not mistaken, this is your first time applying to the show. How does it feel to be accepted into Tattoo Spectacle: Season Six?”
“I’m thrilled to be here,” Aksel says, his smile calm and effortless, confidence radiating from him. “Competing against some of the greatest artists in the world isan honor.”
