Catching movement out of the corner of my eye, I look up. Jax is standing in the doorway, eyes wide as he looks around before they land on me.
Me on my ass in a puddle with a wrench still clutched in my hand, soaking wet. Me wearing a white T-shirt—also soaking wet—white lacy bra and stiff nipples on full display.
eleven
My mind isall about Sasha as I park in front of Skin & Ink. I barely slept after our little late-night encounter. The whole time I was with her, I couldn’t seem to squash the guilt about sketching her, watching as she got naked in her room.
Even though my knee feels so much better, there’s still a slight ache. Now all I can see are those sexy green eyes of hers peering up at me from under dark lashes as she knelt between my legs, her magic hands relieving the worst of my pain.
It wasn’t just my sore knee that was making it hard to concentrate. All I could think about was what I wanted to make her do while she was down on her knees. Like take off my shorts while I fisted a hand in her hair, shoved my cock in her mouth and fucked her face until tears streamed down her flushed, pretty cheeks.
Adjusting my dick, I shake my head to clear it and head inside. The last thing I need is a raging hard-on leading me around all fucking day.
Claire is already at the front desk, tapping away at the computer. “Morning, sunshine.”
“Morning,” I grunt.
The typing stops, and she glances up at me, popping a brow. “Rough night?”
“Storm kept me up.” The last thing I’m going to do is tell her about my impromptu visit with Sasha. Claire would never let me live it down. It would give her way too much ammunition. And if there’s one thing Claire loves more than tattoos? It’s giving me shit.
I take my time setting up my station. I’ve got three back-to-back appointments today, which leaves a full day of work ahead.
Arranging my inks just the way I like them, I check my needles and prep for my first client. My stomach growls loudly as I finish, reminding me I haven’t eaten anything since dinner last night. I wasn’t feeling too hungry this morning, so I skipped breakfast, and I’m out of coffee.
I glance at the clock. It’s just after 8:30, so I’ve got time to grab something before my client shows up.
“Heading next door,” I say to Claire. “Want anything?”
“Oat milk latte and one of those amazing cinnamon thingies they always have,” she answers without looking up from the screen.
“You got it.”
I step outside into the bright morning sunshine. Bean & Co. is right next door, and the rich scent of freshly ground coffee and pastries hits me as soon as I step inside.
Busy with the morning rush, the café is filled with a mix of locals and tourists lining up for their first caffeine fix of the day.
Spotting Lizzy sitting at her favorite table in a corner, hunched over her laptop, I get in line, scanning the pastry case while I wait. The breakfast sandwiches look good, and the bacon and egg croissant happens to be a personal favorite.
“One bacon and egg croissant, an oat milk latte, and one of those cinnamon twists,” I tell the barista, pulling out my wallet.
While she rings me up, I scan the room again. Lizzy has company now, and it looks like she’s showing him her designs.
The guy sitting next to her is hanging on her every word. Then it hits me. She’s mentoring the new guy Ryder hired. Good for her. She’s been working hard, vying for a senior position at the shop.
After paying, I step to the side to wait for my order just as my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s Ryder asking if I can pick up some more transfer paper. I shoot back a quick “no prob” and slip my phone back in my pocket just as the barista calls my name.
Balancing the cardboard carrier and the bag of food, I weave through the crowded tables toward Lizzy, who looks up, a smile lighting up her face as she closes her laptop.
“Hey,” I say with a nod. “Is it ‘mentor the newbie’ day already?”
She rolls her eyes playfully and gestures to the guy sitting next to her. “It sure is. Jax, this is Carter. He’s the new artist who’ll be starting this week.”
“Nice to meet you,” Carter says, rising from his seat to offer me his hand.
Shaking his hand firmly, I give him the once-over. He looks to be in his late twenties, with messy blond hair and a nervous energy that reminds me a little of myself back in the day. He’s wearing a band tee, showing off a full sleeve of impressive traditional work on his left arm.
“Carter, this is Jax,” Lizzy adds, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. “He’s the other half of Skin & Ink Tattoo. So, try not to piss him off on your first day.”
