I lean forward to kiss him and his tongue slides lazily alongmine as his hand slides up my side, thumb brushing the underside of my naked breast.
“Stay in my room tonight,” I murmur against his mouth.
He pulls back, searching my face. “You sure?”
“Very sure.” I scooch over making room for him on the bed.
With a groan, he sets the sketchbook on the nightstand and slides in beside me, pulling me into his arms. “Just to sleep,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You’re going to need to save your strength for tomorrow.”
I snuggle against his chest and breathe him in. “Thank you. It’s better than anything I could have imagined.”
“Just wait until you see it on your skin,” he murmurs, his voice already growing heavy with sleep. “It’s going to be beautiful. Just like you.”
When I wake up the next morning, Ryder is already gone.
Downstairs, I find a note on the kitchen counter.
Sorry, kitten. Something came up and I had to go in early. Meet me at the shop at noon for lunch? -R
I walk into Skin& Ink at 11:45.
The shop is busy and I immediately spot Ryder sitting at his station, bent over a client’s arm. The buzz of his tattoo gun is a steady rhythm that somehow feels oddly soothing.
Claire waves at me from behind the front desk. “Hey! You look… relaxed.”
Heat floods my cheeks.
“Ryder’s been humming all morning.” She grins over at him, then looks at me. “And that man never hums.”
When I glance back over, he’s cleaning up his station while his client examines her fresh ink in the mirror with delight.
Claire follows my gaze and nods at the leather couch. “Why don’t you grab a seat? Would you like some coffee?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
I settle onto one of the leather sofas in the waiting area, watching Ryder work. There’s something mesmerizing about the way he moves—confident and in his element—that makes my heart thump extra hard.
When he looks up and catches me staring, he flashes me a devastating smile and my stomach flips.
After his client leaves, Ryder strides over, leaning down to press a quick kiss to my lips. “Ready for lunch?”
“I am,” I admit, standing up. “Where are we going?”
“Actually.” His eyes twinkle with mischief. “I had something else in mind.”
Before I can ask what, he grabs my hand and leads me toward the back of the shop and into a small break room. The space is cozy with a small kitchenette, round table, and a small couch.
“Jax picked up some sandwiches from the deli down the street,” Ryder explains, opening the mini-fridge. “I thought we could eat here, and I can show you the final design before we get you into my chair.”
My pulse quickens. “You finished it?”
“This morning.” He sets the sandwiches and a couple cans of sparkling water on the table. “I couldn’t sleep, so I came in early and worked on it.”
There’s something thrilling about the idea of Ryder permanently marking my skin, but it doesn’t stop me fromfidgeting.
“You good?”
“Just nervous,” I admit.
