Page 9 of His Red Carnation

Her voice was strained and full of hurt.

I quickly shook my head. “You don’t think I want to fuck you? No. You’retoogoodfor me to fuck. You’re too fucking pure. Too fucking beautiful and sweet.”

She smiled quickly, but the knock at the door made both of us jump. Sloane hurriedly pulled the paper blanket down, finally covering her ass.

“Better?” She raised an eyebrow at me, almost mockingly.

I didn’t answer. “Come in,” I called out.

5

Sloane

My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my ears. It wasn’t because of the tattoo I was about to get—it was because Callan had just admitted that he wanted to fuck me. But he wouldn’t. Too pure? Too sweet? Too beautiful? None of those were good enough excuses. What did I have to do, beg him?

The needle piercing my skin barely registered. All I could think about was Callan—the way his eyes darkened when I purposely showed him my ass. Around him, I became the girl I always wanted to be: fearless, rebellious, flirtatious. And I knew he couldn’t resist me. He’d been checking me out since the car ride, his gaze tracing every curve of my body like a silent confession. He didn’t even bother hiding it.

But now he sat in the corner, avoiding looking at me, his eyes glued to his phone. Not a single glance in my direction. The heat from his earlier attention still lingered on my skin, and I couldn’t believe I’d actually had the nerve to flaunt myself like that—was I really that horny? Something about him fueled this heated desire in me, a fire that burned hotter the more he resisted. I wanted to be the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about, the one who made him lose control.

But instead, it seemed to piss him off. He wanted me—I could feel it—but he fought it every step of the way. And that only made me want him more. I wanted to push him to the edge, make him want me so badly that he couldn’t help himself. I wanted him to snap, to give in to the tension between us.

“All done. Wanna take a look?” The tattoo artist handed me a mirror, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I angled the mirror toward my ribcage, revealing a dainty little red carnation with a green stem. It was perfect.

“I love it. Thank you.” I handed the mirror back to him before he covered the tattoo, then pulled my dress down before removing the paper blanket.

I glanced over at Callan; his eyes were locked on the floor as he stood and pulled something out of his pocket.

“Thanks. Use this tip to forget you saw Sloane here.” He handed a wad of cash to the tattoo artist.

I rolled my eyes, grabbing my cardigan and purse off the chair.

“Yeah, for sure. Thanks, man.” The tattoo artist walked out, leaving the door open behind him.

I sighed, placing my hand on my hip. “I could have paid for that,” I mumbled.

“You’re welcome,” Callan replied with a mocking smile.

He started to walk out but then stopped, raising his eyebrows when he noticed I hadn’t moved. “What?” he asked, his irritation still clear.

“There’s another place I want to go,” I said, though I wasn’t even sure where. I just knew I didn’t want to go home yet.

His expression shifted, suddenly nervous. “And where’s that?”

I hesitated, trying to come up with something. I couldn’t exactly say what I really wanted—which was to be in the backseat of the SUV with him fucking me senseless.

“I’m hungry,” I blurted out.

He blinked, seeming caught off guard. “The kitchen can make you something at home.”

“They can’t make me crepes from Crepeaway,” I countered.

His forehead creased as confusion crossed his face. “What the fuck is Crepeaway?”

I giggled. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Callan hesitated but followed me out. I let him open the SUV door for me this time, wanting the sight of me bending over to remind him of what he’d seen earlier. He slammed the door shut as I settled into my seat.

---