“Your client’s here,” Claire announces, giving me a concerned look when the sound of her voice startles me out of my self-deprecating spiral.
“Thanks,” I say, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace.
Raising an eyebrow, she heads back to the front desk. That’s what I appreciate about my crew—they know when to leave well enough alone. No one has been riding my ass about my shitty mood or asking why I’ve been so quiet lately. Ryder knows, but everyone else is just letting me work through whatever this is on my own.
I pride myself on being one of the best tattoo artists in the state. People drive for hours to get inked by me. I’ve got a six-month waiting list for custom pieces. But lately? I’ve just been going through the motions while my mind stays stuck on Sasha.
My next client wants a unicorn riding on flames on her shoulder blade. Normally, it’s the kind of piece that would have me buzzing with creative energy. Instead, I’m sitting here thinking about how Sasha’s mouth felt against mine, how her eyes widened in surprise when I told her I’d wait for her.
“How bad is this going to hurt?” my client asks, her voice snapping me back to reality.
“It shouldn’t be too bad.” I shake my head to clear it. “Just making a few final adjustments and we’ll get started.”
Forcing myself to focus, I flip the switch. As the needle buzzes to life in my hand, I take a deep breath. For the next few hours, I manage to lose myself in my work, letting the familiar cadence of creating art take over my brain.
But as soon as my client leaves, satisfied with her new tat, I’m more than ready to go home.
“You out?” Lizzy asks.
“Yeah,” I answer, grabbing my keys. “Got some stuff to take care of at home.”
She gives me a look I can’t quite decipher before wishing me a good night.
I head out to my truck, tossing my bag onto the passenger seat before climbing in. The leather seat is hot from sitting in the sun all day, so I crank the A/C as I pull out of the lot.
The drive home feels longer than usual. My stomach’s tied in knots, and my palms are sweaty against the steering wheel. What was I thinking, cornering Sasha in her office like that? Telling her I’d wait for her?
Son of a bitch.
I tap my fingers anxiously against the wheel as I stop at a red light. These past few days have been hell. Living in the same house but barely acknowledging each other. Passing each other in the hallway on the way to bed with just a nod. Making coffee for her in the morning, only to leave before she comes downstairs.
It’s driving me fucking insane.
What if I made things even worse? What if she decides she can’t even handle living with me and moves back into her house next door, potentially putting herself in danger?
My heart rate kicks up at the thought. I’d rather have her close and untouchable than not have her around at all. Especially since there hasn’t been word from Dylan about what’s up with the Triple Six.
The light turns green, and I press on the gas a little harder than necessary, causing my truck to jerk forward.
“Goddammit,” I growl, easing off until the sound of the engine fades to a dull roar.
I haven’t even checked my phone all day, afraid I’ll see a text from her telling me she’s moving back home regardless. And we definitely haven’t booty texted each other either.
When I pull my truck into the driveway, the sun is just starting to set, casting long shadows across the lawn. I sit in silence for a minute before I grab my bag and get out.
My feet feel heavy as I trudge up the walkway, keys jangling in my hand as I pause at the front door. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I turn my key in the lock.
When I step inside, letting the door swing shut behind me, I look up and freeze.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
My cock thickens instantly, straining against my zipper as I stand there, frozen in place, unable to move, unable to think. All I can do is stare at the vision before me as my bag slips from my fingers, my mind barely registering the soft thud as it hits the floor.
Sasha’s sitting in my favorite chair, completely naked except for a green tie hanging between her breasts. With one leg draped provocatively over one arm of the chair, the other is spread wide, giving me a perfect view of her glistening pussy.
“How was your day, dear?” she asks casually, spitting out the first line from one of my favorite movie clips of all time.
Holy fuck. Is she seriously playing out my movie fantasy right now?
