Page 17 of Jake's Angel

I can feel myself blushing.

When he caged me against the wall, he wasn’t angry, but still there was a commanding presence about him. The strange thing about it, though, is I didn’t feel threatened by him in the least. When he asked if I was afraid of him, I was honest when I saidno. Usually, when a guy has been that close to me, especially someone of his size and build, I feel terrified. With him, I found myself excited and turned on. A lot.What the hell is that all about?

Jake is gorgeous, but not in the rich, preppy-boy kind of way I’m used to seeing in Baron’s Edge. I’m certainJake couldn’t find a cardigan to fit his torso. With his broad shoulders, short black hair shaved close at the sides and a little longer on the top. Deep, suck-you-in blue eyes, and strong jawline. The black T-shirt he was wearing was protesting, stretched tightoverhis biceps, and taut across his chest. I have no doubt he works hard to look that good.

As we were pressed together, I could feel the hard surface of his muscles under my fingers. I wanted to explore every ridge and valley with my tongue. I almost wish we could’ve had just a little more time to let me explore them more thoroughly.

Whoa! Where the hell did that thought come from?I am not one who fantasizes about licking men’s bodies.Well, this isn’t men. It’s one man, and he is worth the fantasy.I laugh to myself.One kiss and I’ve lost my damn mind.

His faded jeans hugged and hung in all the right places. Much better than those disgusting skinny jeans the boys in Baron’s Edge think are attractive. I couldn’t help but notice all the intricate details of his forearm tattoos when he leaned on the table. I never knew forearm porn was a real thing until today.

Jake’s a very attractive man, but he’s still an ass.And what a kisser.I can still feel the ghost of his lips on mine.But he’s still an ass Avery!I wonder if every girl he kisses feels this way afterward. There’s no doubt there have been a lot of girls because practice makes perfect, and that kiss was damn near perfect.

Everyone seems to know them. When they walked into Magpie’s, everyone’s attention immediately fell on them. Bothof them. Like they were royalty or something. Their presence seemed to suck the air out of the room.

Hawk is extremely handsome himself. He’s tall with shoulder length sandy blond hair, gray eyes, and a couple of days’ worth of scruff on his face. Wearing a white T-shirt and jeans with a black leather vest just like Jake’s except for the patches. Hawk’s said Road Captain while Jake’s says SAAI liked the silky feel of the stitching under my finger and the smell of the worn leather that mixed with his own scent of cedarwood and mint.

The sign above the building says, “Kustom Armor Tattoo.” I walk inside and am met by a dark-haired guy who looks to be not much older than me. He’s got on a black T-shirt with the shop name written across his chest and faded blue jeans, and ink and piercings everywhere the eye can see.And probably some I can’t.I keep the thought to myself.

“You lost, sweetheart?” he asks, leaning across the glass case showcasing piercing equipment and jewelry.

“No. I mean, not really. Are you the artist?”

“One of them. You looking to get some work done?” I don’t miss the curve of his lips as he checks me out unabashedly.

“Um, I’m not sure.” I’ve never really thought about getting a tattoo before, but maybe this is just what I need. Something to erase the past and help me move on. “Can scars be tattooed over?”

“I’d need to see what I’m working with. What have you got hiding under that hoodie?” He lifts his chin. I don’t answer or make any move to remove my shirt. I just glare at him, waiting for him to continue. He sighs, dropping his arms at his sides. “It depends on the scar and the tattoo. I’d need to see what you’re looking to get covered up.”Duh, Avery.

I can't show him anything now. Not with the marks my grandmother’s henchman, Chuck, left on me the other night. There's no way he wouldn't notice the bruises.

“Um, well, they’re small marks on my hips, about the size of a nickel, maybe smaller. The other is about four inches long. It’s a raised line on my inner thigh. Nothing too drastic.”

“You want to walk to the back room and show me? I can give you a better idea once I see them for myself.”

Taking the offer into consideration, I don’t know if I’m ready to show anyone else the marks on my skin yet. I don’t know him. I don’t know if I could trust him not to tell anyone. Not that he would care. Hell, for all I know, he could take me in the back and once I’m undressed, take advantage of me. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else in the shop either, which means no one would hear me scream if he did. But maybe I could do something else. Something just for me.

“Um, you know what, on second thought, I think I’ll wait a little longer on the tattoo.” I move to look at the jewelry he has in the case. “I-I-I don’t even know what I would want to cover it up with,” I stammer. “But what about a belly ring? Could you do that for me?”

His smile widens. “Hell yeah. Pick your jewelry and I’ll be back with the forms for you to fill out.”

I fill out the forms with a fake name, thankful when he doesn’t ask for my ID I’m sure he was supposed to, but I’m not about to argue.

He takes me into the back room and places my backpack on the chair in the corner.

“Have a seat while I get shit ready. Lay back and lift your shirt so I can clean the area.” I do as he says. While lying there staring at the ceiling, I imagine the look on my grandmother’s face and her harsh words when she discovers I have a piercing. Her unforgiving scowl. The screech in her voice as she screams at me about my insolence toward her and Gramps.

I can hear her words in my head.“What have you don’t to yourself? You let a stranger touch you! Poke holes in your skin.”

“You want to take the hoodie off?” The piercer motions with his hands. “You might get too hot with it on while we do this.”

I reluctantly remove the sweatshirt, but pull down my sleeve to cover the marks on my bicep. He places my hoodie on top of my backpack and continues to grab the necessary tools and place them on his tray beside the table.

I busy my mind by looking around the room for anything to focus my attention on. I’m nervous. My heart pounds rapidly, but I’m determined not to chicken out.Breathe and focus. Focus and breathe. I can do this.

There’s beautiful framed artwork all over the walls. This room is covered in flowers, butterflies, and pixies. I’m admiring the art while he preps my skin with alcohol and marks the spot with a Sharpie.He hands me a mirror so I can examine the spot. When I give the okay, he takes the mirror and places it on the tray.

“Those pieces are beautiful. Did you draw them?” I ask, distracting myself from the sharp needle he’s unwrapping.

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