Page 36 of Savage Grace

“Okay,” he smirked for a split second. “I’ve got just the thing. Where do you want it?”

I looked down at my body.

I had no fucking idea.

Only ten minutes ago I was inside my car, nearing a mental breakdown thanks to my mother’s kind reminder that I was going nowhere fast in life. As cruel as the woman could be, I couldn’t say that she was wrong.

My shop barely turned a profit most months.I had no accolades or achievements beside my name.No interesting projects or hobbies.No real friends.

What the fuckwasI doing with my life?

“Here,” I rubbed at the spot just below my hip.

Ashe’s eyes flickered down for just a moment before looking back up at me through his heavy lashes.

“Fine,” he turned away. “Take your pants off. I’ll be back.”

I caught him shaking his head a little, scrubbing the back of his neck as he walked away.

Soft music drifted from speakers that were placed throughout the studio, but it wasn’t enough to distract me from my rattling heartbeat. I shimmied out of my jeans, throwing them over the back of a chair and taking in the rest of the decor.

It was luxurious, and not at all what I would have pictured for an MC-owned tattoo shop. Images of dark, grungy, back-alley rooms came to mind—not this.

I’d been to designer brand clothing stores that weren’t as beautiful as this.

I wondered how much of it was part of the facade, part of the front that kept their ties to the Redline Angels a happy little secret.

Ashe was hunched over a tablet, drawing on a bright screen with his head resting in his free hand. His knee bounced along to the music the whole time, and he seemed so sucked into his work, that it was almost as if he’d forgotten I was there.

I watched him from my corner. The way his eyebrows drew together in concentration. The way his steady hand moved so surely.

He hummed to himself quietly as he finished, rolling his chair to the other end of the desk and pulling the freshly printed paper from the machine. The way his eyes flickered back to me and the humming quickly stopped made me think that he probably did forget who was standing in his shop in their underwear.

The enemy.

I nearly snorted with laughter at the thought.

Did I make him nervous? Did he have the same suspicious thoughts about me that I did about him? Did he think that I was some undercover spy for The Family?

He made quick work at hiding the design on the paper from me, tucking it away in a drawer while he sprayed down the black, vinyl bed with disinfectant and wiped it down with a paper towel.

I clasped my hands behind my back, fidgeting and swaying while I waited.

Finally, he sat down on the swivelling stool, turning to face me. His gaze roamed lazily, indulgently, with no shame in his expression while his eyes lingered a little too long on the see-through lace panels of my panties.

With a single finger, he motioned for me to come forward. And like a fucking dog in heat, I obeyed immediately, stepping forward quickly as if it would earn me a sparkly golden sticker that said‘good girl’.

Ashe ran his hand down the curve of my hip, his touch feather-light.

“You want it here?” he asked, pressing a cold finger just above my hip bone.

“Lower,” I shook my head.

“Here?” He arched a brow, pressing at the softer bit of flesh.

I nodded.

It was impossible to remain relaxed in that moment, with his rough finger softly tracing lines on my bare skin, so close to where his mouth had been only a few weeks ago.

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