Page 1 of Claimed By my Best Friend

Chapter One

Darrell

The sharp guitar riff cuts through the room, drowning out the buzzing of my tattoo gun. I tune out both sounds as I ink the design onto my client’s skin, watching carefully as the colors merge and lines take shape. All the while, Nirvana’s “Smells like Teen Spirit” thumps in the background. The song has been on repeat for the past hour, but I am too focused on my work to get up and change it.

Truthfully, I work better in silence, but I have learned that blasting music while working on clients drowns out any potential for small talk. I am not exactly fond of unnecessary chit-chat—not even when my client is Sebastian Foster, one of the most famous musicians in the world.

Sebastian is the only world-famous man to come out of Valor Springs. He can fill up a large stadium and sell out tickets to his concerts in a matter of seconds, so people are always fighting to get into his circles—well, everyone except me.

See, I am not just Sebastian’s tattoo artist. He and I went to high school together. He was the popular kid who was adored by everyone, teachers and students alike. His grades were great,he could play multiple instruments, and the girls loved him, and I, well…I was the troublemaker. The teen with wild tattoos and a chip on his shoulder. He and I were as different as two people can get, and ours was a very unlikely friendship, though we grew apart when Sebastian’s band hit it big and he left to tour the world. We only reconnected recently when he moved back to Valor Springs.

“I should be offended that you haven’t once played any of my music since I walked in here.”

My eyes stay on the design I’m working on. “Do you have anything against the song playing?” I ask.

“Don’t get me wrong, ‘Smells like Teen Spirit’ is a classic, but surely you have other music you could play, right? I’ll take anything at this point. I’m practically begging you, man.”

I hum, but make no move to change the music. I’m familiar with all of Sebastian’s music and occasionally play one of his albums in the studio, but unlike most, I don’t suck up to him by keeping his music on repeat, not that he’d want me to. It’s hard to see him as anything more than the kid I went to high school with, especially since he doesn’t act like a spoiled celebrity. Even with the money and fame he’s gained, he’s as down to earth and humble as they come. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget how famous he is. Perhaps that is why he comes to me for his ink. Well, that and the fact that I am damn good at my job.

“I’m almost done here,” I say instead. Sebastian groans when the song ends and starts again after a brief pause. He makes a snarky comment about needing a break from the song, but I don’t give him a reaction. He lets out a sigh but doesn’t speak, the room falling back into the noise from the tattoo gun and the music.

The tattoo my client and long-term friend is getting today is uncomplicated. I’ve worked on all of his most recent tattoos, from the skull on his shoulder to the snake that disappears around his back, so the one he wants in his girlfriend’s honor on his chest is a piece of cake.

A few years back, I would have made a wisecrack about him inking anything for a girlfriend on his body and believing in something as stupid and unrealistic as love, but mocking him would mean mocking myself. My mind drifts to my own tattoo, the one on my side over my ribs. A tattoo I had no right getting, and yet, I did.

Do I regret it?

Never.Regretting the tattoo would be regrettingher. The girl I have no business loving.

It’s quite unbelievable that a man as jaded as I am would ever experience feelings for someone else, and yet, I do. So much so that I went ahead and permanently inked a symbol of her on my skin. I don’t want to imagine what her reaction would be if she found out about the tattoo, so I plan on keeping it a secret.

I shake my thoughts off her to focus on putting the final touches on the design I’m working on. The needle buzzes softly as I carefully shade in the last detail. I start to wipe the excess ink from the skin, but before I can get started, the door to my private studio swings open, the noise stealing my attention from my work. I clench my jaw and slowly turn toward the entrance, ready to tear into whoever dared interrupt this session, but my mouth goes dry when my eyes lock on her.Paula.

She’s striking with her long, wavy blond hair that falls over her shoulders in soft tousled waves. Her eyes are bright and expressive, a deep shade of green that has my heart hammeringin my chest. I can see the faintest hint of freckles dusting her skin, like stardust sprinkled on her nose.

Fuck, I am in love every single freckle on this girl’s face.

My irritation is long gone, and in its place is want.Need. She’s wearing a loose-fitting oversized white shirt that hangs casually off one shoulder, revealing a delicate collarbone. The shirt is slightly stained with splashes of paint, and I imagine she came here straight from the school where she works. All my blood rushes south when my eyes drop to her denim shorts that reveal her long, soft legs, and God, I can’t count how many times I’ve imagined them wrapped around my waist as I drive my cock into her.

Jesus Christ, I can’t entertain this thought.It’s too dangerous.

By wanting her, I risk losing her, and I can’t bear the thought of losing this girl. She’s my best friend, my everything. Her angelic face is burned in my head and heart.

She’s everything that I am not. Pure and innocent.

For a long moment, we stand in silence, her eyes locked on mine, stealing my breath away. It’s a talent really. I have never met anyone else capable of doing this to me, but she does so easily, merely by being in the same room as me.

More times than I would like to admit, I’ve imagined tracing my fingers down her cheeks to her collarbone before palming those tits pushing against her shirt. I’ve longed to see those beautiful green eyes flare with desire as I kiss every inch of her body, part those legs, and bury my face between her thighs…

“Darrell,” she whispers, her voice breathy, almost as if she can read my mind. Her eyes snap from me to Sebastian seated on the reclined chair, then back to me. “I…I’m sorry, I hadno idea you had a client. The front was empty, so I thought… Sorry… I’ll wait outside.”

And then she’s gone before I can speak. The door swings closed, and I watch it for a moment, longing for her to come back, but I’m forced to push the feeling down so I can focus on my work. I get back to wiping the excess ink with a paper towel and a mild antibacterial solution.

“Who is that?” Sebastian asks, seemingly more interested in the girl than his tattoo. If I didn’t know this man was madly in love with his girlfriend and that he was asking out of pure curiosity, I would lose my shit.

“I’m done with your tat; check it out.”

“She looks a little familiar. Do I know her?”

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