Ford answers for me. “King skull,” he says, dragging the needle through another swipe of gray. “We’re all getting them.”
“Cute,” Ava clucks, lips curling in a smug grin. “Matching bestie tattoos.”
Ford smirks. “Or, you know, a warning to anyone who tries to test us.”
She rolls her eyes, folding her arms and leaning on the table next to us. The hem of her skirt rides up just enough to show the soft skin of her upper thighs, and I have to look away or I’ll lose my shit. “It’s actually… really pretty,” she says.
Ford barks a laugh. “Pretty,” he repeats, shaking his head. “Just what every guy wants to hear about his tattoo.” He blows out a breath, then adds, “It’s badass, you mean.”
She shrugs, not backing down. “You know what I mean.”
Ford wipes my shoulder again, hazel eyes glinting. “How’s your tattoo doing?” he asks absently. “Skin still blistered?”
“It’s healed,” she says.
“Show me,” Ford demands, flicking the gun off.
She rolls her eyes. “I’m good.”
He doesn’t let it go. “Now, Ava baby. Don’t make me ask twice.” His tone is playful, but I know he’s not kidding. When Ford saw what the Dollhouse did to her tattoo in their effort to remove it, I swear he almost fucking cried.
Which would’ve been a first, considering he’s incapable of feelings.
Ava sighs, then spins around, hands on her hips, and lifts the back of her skirt just enough to show the edge of the tattoo peeking above her panties. They’re white cotton, innocent as hell, which somehow makes them even hotter. Ford leans in, squinting at the skin, then reaches out and slides the fabric aside without asking, exposing the ink.
“Looks good,” he says, letting go with a snap. “You ready for me to fix it?”
She yanks her skirt down and shoots him a look that would kill a weaker man. “Yeah, sure. I’ll make an appointment.”
“How about now?” Ford presses, licking his thumb and rubbing at my shoulder to clean off a smear. “I got time.”
Ava glances at me, then at him. “Aren’t you working on Raf?”
Ford flicks the gun back on, letting it buzz loud enough to rattle my teeth. “Just finished,” he lies, like I’m not still bleeding.
“Bullshit,” I growl, “You just started the fucking mandible.”
He grins, all teeth. “Whatever. I can multitask.” He turns to Ava, tossing her a paper towel. “Wipe it down and grab the box of needles from the cabinet. I’ll set you up after this pass.”
She lingers, arms crossed, eyes on the tattoo as Ford goes back to work. There’s something about having her watch that makes my skin crawl, but I don’t tell her to leave. I can feel her gaze on my back, the heat of it, like she’s memorizing every line. The part of me that wants to tell her to fuck off is at war with the part that wants to turn around, pin her to the counter, and fuck her senseless.
Ford knows it, too. He leans in, voice low enough for only me to hear. “You want her naked, just say the word,” he murmurs, wagging his brows.
I glare back at him over my shoulder.
He keeps shading, the sound filling the air, and it’s an exercise in pure self-control not to look at my stepsister. Not to stare at the swell of her tits in her low cut top, or the way her hair falls loose around her face when she leans in for a better look.
“You got a fight coming up, right?” she asks, like it’s nothing, like we’re just three friends shooting the shit instead of a pack of wolves waiting to eat each other alive.
“Next Saturday,” I mumble.
Ford grins. “There’s gonna be a scout there.”
Ava blinks. “Like… for the UFC?”
“Something like that,” Ford replies, eyes on his work. “If he does well, he could get a shot at the circuit. Maybe even go pro.”
I grunt. “Doesn’t matter.”
