Shane’s eyes widened as he grasped it in both hands. My heart rate sped up with his pause. Idiotic. My initial sketches rarely matched the final product. Revisions made clients happier, so why did I need him to love it?

“Perfect,” Shane breathed out. “It’s absolutely perfect.” Then he transformed into a ten-year-old boy in front of me, trying not to bounce in his seat with excitement. “Can we do it today?” His eyes danced, and his smile stuttered my heart for a beat. Maybe two.

Alec coughed from across the room disapprovingly. I checked the time on my phone.

“Let’s put a mock-up on you first before we decide. How does that sound?”

“Yes, please.” Shane’s smile got impossibly bigger. His eyes returned to my drawing as he reached out to squeeze my leg. “Thank you.”

His response of “yes, please” hit my gut in a snaking desire. It shouldn’t make me think of doing dirty things to him. Absolutely not. But I’d indulge myself and put my ink on him.

I really didn’t give a shit that paperwork day would be spent inking Shane. But while Shane sat alone at my station, I had to promise Alec I’d finish sorting everything for our tax accountant, and the weasel also used the opportunity to blackmail me into going out on Saturday night. Worth it.

“How much is this going to hurt?” Shane stretched out in my chair while I prepped his skin. He’d loved the mock-up and couldn’t wait for me to ink him.

“You ever break a bone?” I asked sarcastically.

Going by Shane’s thoughtful expression, he didn’t get my question was supposed to be humorous. “No, but I burned my leg.”

He reached down to pull up his pant leg to reveal his shin and a large patch of puckered skin on his otherwise perfect leg. That had to hurt like hell when it happened.

“It will hurt 95 percent less than that.” I locked eyes to reassure him, and he melted back into the chair with a sigh.

“You just won a place in my heart.” He grinned. “Statistics, graphs, and spreadsheets are my language.”

I had no appropriate response to that statement. Firing up the tattoo gun, I got to work. After finishing the first part, I noticed Shane’s cock had hardened. This couldn’t happen. After leaving my permanent mark on him, I’d send him away and never see him again. I had to ensure he didn’t come back.

“You got a pain kink?” I asked, hoping to embarrass him.

“Sorry.” Shane swallowed and raised the leg farthest from me as if it would hide his impressive cock. “So sorry. I’m 100 percent sure I won’t die of embarrassment, but that isn’t comforting right now. Has this happened to you before?” Words exploded out of his mouth. “I know the probability has to be low. But I can’t be the only one. Please tell me I’m not the only one.”

“Hmmm.” I let the awkward pause stand. My station felt small today, intimate, our own private area. A place for secrets I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell. “It happened once before.”

“Did you punch him?” Shane’s voice cracked.

I had to make him run from me as if it were his idea. Which was the only explanation for what came out of my mouth when I looked him in the eye and said, “No. I married him.”

Chapter four

Shane

Cole’swordsshouldhavesent me running. But they had the opposite effect. His hands on my body sparked a lust I’d never felt. I’d spent the last week convincing myself that his effect on me had been an anomaly. That my mind had not gone numb and I wasn’t remotely attracted to him. I wasn’t attracted to guys. My hard-on said otherwise.

Each tattoo artist had a private room, but all the doors were open, so we didn’t have any illusion of privacy. I’d stood on the sidewalk admiring Unframed Art’s esthetic until I saw Cole and ventured in. The large window had given me a perfect view of hundreds of tattoos on the wall, as well as the reception desk and consultation area.

Before I arrived at his shop, I’d cyberstalked Cole Branson.

I shouldn’t have been shocked that he owned a tattoo parlor with the amount of ink covering him. His designs spoke to me. They were art, beautiful images on skin that could be paintings in a museum. I’d been contemplating this tattoo since I was eighteen and didn’t need my parents’ permission. Finding a worthy design that I’d proudly show on my skin had held me back from getting a tattoo. Cole could make art for me, so I showed up at Unframed Art for a tattoo. Only a tattoo, not the man, but my body hadn’t gotten the message.

Cole’s extraordinary artwork felt right inked over my heart. A dragon for protection, courage, and bravery, holding a Celtic knot to honor the past and carry me into the future.

Thoughts of the past shrunk my hard-on. I had to focus on that emotional pain to avoid its resurgence. Last week, I blamed my erection on Cole face-planting on it. Direct contact with one’s dick would cause almost every able-bodied male to get an erection. Facts of biology.

Today, Cole’s easy confidence, brilliant creativity, and incredible skill turned me on. Add his large, calloused hands on my skin, and my dick wanted his attention. It actually demanded his attention.

I was uncertain about how to process that information. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had openly appreciated my looks or touched me for my pleasure.

It had been easy to dismiss my attraction to Cole. Coming here today, I was finally going to get my tattoo and prove I had no desire for Cole. A man. A very manly man. So not my type. Not at all.