Page 5 of Ivy

“Just be careful with him, okay.” I nod my head. “He’s a great guy—when he wants to be. Loyal as fuck. Sometimes, though, things are not what they seem, honey.” He kisses my forehead and walks away.Sometimes though, things are not what they seem… What does that mean?

“Jay, what does that mean?” I shout after him. He winks at me but carries on walking to his room. “JAY!”

“Love you, baby girl,” Jay replies.

“Bastard,” I mutter to myself. I shake out my hands and pick the pencil back up, before once again losing myself in the design. I want this to look epic on the guy’s arm. The studio is quiet today, so I use the extra time to work on the designs that need finishing up before I need to go and get Carter from school.

A paper aeroplane lands on the design I’m working on, making me jump. My head snaps up and I see Beast leaning against one of the back walls looking like a fucking model. His legs are crossed at the ankles, and his arms are crossed over his very big and hard-looking chest. God, I want to run my hands all over that man. He smiles and dips his head down, indicating for me to look at the aeroplane.

I slowly pick it up and carefully open it. My eyes widen at the words.

Your arse is as perfect as a peach.

My eyes snap to his and he smirks at me. This is the first aeroplane note he’s sent, but it isn't the first time he’s mentioned peaches around me. He calls me ‘Peaches’ all the time. I didn’t know why, until now. He thinks my arse looks like a peach. I am not one to toot my own horn, but I know I have a great arse—it’s my best asset apparently. No pun intended.

I chuckle to myself and shake my head. His laughter catches my attention and I lift my head. Our eyes lock and I watch as he bites his bottom lip. He looks like… sex. Oh, hell no, he cannot be doing stuff like that. He winks at me and turns to go back into his room where the giggler is waiting for him. I slump down in my seat and bang my head a few times on the desktop. I am in trouble.

Chapter 3

Luke

I turn and walk back into my room after sending a paper aeroplane over to my peaches. God, the woman has me in fucking knots. Her perfect curves, her tits, and that arse… Holy fuck that arse. The things I want to do to it: Lick it. Taste it. Bite it.

Perfect as a fucking juicy peach.

Fuck, my cock is getting hard just thinking about what I want to do to her. The images alone send my blood racing to my dick. She bends over all the fucking time, but she does it in an innocent way. Whether it’s getting forms from the cupboard or re-stocking for us, the arse is every-fucking-where. Even in my dreams. I know she’s had a shitty past few years, but I don’t want to go slow with her. I’ve flirted with her, but she holds me at a distance. She’s worried about getting into something new. I get that, but surely, she has to know I won’t hurt her.

The way she reacts to me, the way her breathing changes and her cheeks flush red, my chest puffs out with pride that I can make a woman wet but just looking at her. That is every man’s fucking ego boost—to see how a woman is so fucking affected by their actions. But the way she jumped at the client's assumption that we were a couple didn’t sit right with me at all. That fucked me right the hell off. So I did the typical man thing when his ego is bruised a little: I reacted very fucking badly, and I hurt her. I hated the way I’d reacted, but I couldn’t stop myself.

I shake my head at the way I acted this morning with that giggly woman. Thank fuck she’s gone. Now, I’m waiting for my next client. I was so fucking glad to see the touchy-feely lady leave. Thank fuck for small tattoos.

I sit at my table and pick up the design for the older lady I’m going to tattoo in the next half hour. She’s pretty bad arse.

A knock on my door as it opens has me turning in my seat, and I smile at who greets me.

“Hey, babe,” I say to Ivy when she pushes the door open more.

“Mrs. Doyle is here for her tattoo.” Peaches moves out of the way, so Mrs. Doyle can enter the room. “Do either of you need anything?” her sweet voice asks.

“No, thank you, dear.” Ivy nods her head at the lady and turns her gaze to me, waiting for my answer. I smile at her and shake my head.

“No, baby, I’m good.” Peaches blushes and turns to leave the room. “Are you going to pick up Carter soon?” I ask her before she can close the door.

“Yeah. I’m leaving in about an hour. Why?”

“I was going to see if you guys wanted to go out for dinner after school. Mrs. Doyle is my last client for the day.” I can see the battle raging in her pretty little head, so I shrug my shoulders and smile at her. “Come on, what's the worst that can happen?” She narrows her eyes at me and goes to answer, but Mrs. Doyle beats her to it.

“Oh, go on, honey. No woman can turn down an offer like that from a man like Luke.” She winks at Ivy, who chuckles, but I see the defiance lurking in her eyes and know it may not end well for me.

“That, Mrs. Doyle, is very true. But unfortunately, I am not the only woman to get an offer from Luke. You see, Luke has plenty to offer… to plenty of other women.” The air in the room shifts and my back tenses. I can’t fucking believe she is saying this shit. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to finish work before I go and pick up my son from school. And as for your answer, Luke: no, thank you.” With that, she walks out of the room, leaving radio silence in her wake. I keep my eyes on the door, hoping it will open and Ivy will come back in and tell me she changed her mind about dinner. But it never does. Mrs. Doyle clears her throat, breaking my trance-like state.

“Sorry, Mrs. Doyle. Let’s get this tattoo done, shall we.” I busy myself getting all the inks set up and the gun machine ready with the correct needles.

“I can only assume that you’re a ‘player’, as my granddaughter would call it.” Fuck. I nod my head and keep my gaze firmly locked on the design in my hand.

“I want her, though. She’s all I think about, but…”

“Talk to me, Luke. I have had three sons and two daughters, and I have lost count of my grandchildren, so I think I know a few things about love.” She chuckles, but her words are like barbs sticking into my skin. I don’t love Ivy.

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