Page 92 of Broken

“I didn’t forget what you said last night,” I whisper against her ear, then scrape my teeth over the lobe. Glancing down, I almost laugh. That hickey is going to take a lot to cover up.

“What did I say last night?”

“Tonight, eight o’clock.”

“What?” she gathers her wits and steps back.

“You have an appointment.”

“No, I don’t. What are you…?” I smirk when she realizes. “Nope, that was said under duress. You dickmatized me.”

Her hand presses against my chest, trying to force me back. She doesn’t have much success given I’m bigger and stronger than her.

“Dickmatized you?” I arch a brow.

“Yes, that happens when you’re under the influence of good dick.” She says it without a hint of embarrassment, far too worked up about what she agreed to last night.

She’s not changing my mind about the tattoo. All she is doing is boosting the shit out of my ego. I grin at her and her lips part, staring like she’s never seen me before.

“You have dimples when you give a genuine smile.”

“And an amazing dick, apparently.”

“Oh God,” she slaps a hand over her face.

“If you’re not at the shop at eight, I’ll come find you. Now less chatting and more getting ready, if you want to be at work on time.”

She hurries away and I turn, catching my reflection in the mirror. Jesus. Iamsmiling. What the fuck is this woman doing to me?

It’s almost seven thirty and my last client is done. I finish clearing up, I won’t be using my station out here again tonight.

I’m antsy as hell. I mean, why the fuck am I letting my head get all twisted over a woman? She won’t show. She doesn’t want a tattoo. Everyone in her friend group came in and got one, but she refused.

“Boss?”

“Don’t call me boss.”

“Sorry,” Shane says with a grin. He won’t stop doing it. “Have you got another client?” he asks.

“One, but it’ll be in the back room. Has anyone used it today?”

“Nope. No one has used it in a couple of days. I can go in and re-check it if you need.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” I tell him. My gloves snap as I tug them off. What I want to do is hurry upstairs and check the camera feed. One, to see if Calli is leaving her apartment. And two, to check the other cameras.

When I dropped her off this morning, she still hadn’t agreed to come in tonight. She hadn’t said no either. When she went inside, I couldn’t hide my low laughter when her friend caught sight of me, her mouth hanging open. Calli was in for a lot of explaining today.

Sumner stands, puts his hands on his hips, then bends backward, letting out a deep groan. I almost feel the crack of his back. It’s the one thing most tattooists have in common. Back issues suck.

Lucky has left for the night to teach a dance class. I’m glad she’s not here. It’s one less person to give me shit if Calli shows.

“That is gonna cause you long term damage, dude,” Phoenix calls out. He’s sketching on the stool in the back by the mirrors. His client canceled, but he hung around.

“It’s all good,” Sumner turns and grins. “Been dating a chiropractor. She gives free treatment.”

Shane snickers. “How do you find these girls?”

“It’s the luck of the Irish.” He stretches an arm across his body and grabs his shoulder, wincing. “I manifest when I have a problem, and the solution shows right up.”

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