Page 34 of Killer's Obsession
She grins, offering me a high five, which I return with a laugh. “You’re a goddamn miracle worker, Memphis. I’ve been trying to tell these knuckleheads for months that we needed someone like you.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks at the praise. “It’s not that complicated.”
“No, but before you came, it was chaos.” She gestures dramatically around the shop. “Having to stop what I’m doing every time someone walks in or the phone rings. You know none of the guys would stop what they’re doing to grab the phone.” She rolls her eyes, and I can’t help but smile.
Jade has this way of making everything sound like a soap opera. I’ve only known her a week, but we clicked instantly. She’s loud and unapologetic and full of stories about the Jacksonville party scene.
“So,” she leans in conspiratorially, “you coming out with us tonight? Sushi, sake bombs, then dancing at Onyx?”
“I don’t know...” I bite my lip. That is a little too far out of my comfort zone.
“Come on,” she nudges my shoulder. “Live a little! When was the last time you went dancing?”
The question hits harder than she could ever imagine. The last time I did anything other than hide out in Killer’s room wasbefore.
Beforemy life was forever changed.
My throat constricts.
“Hey, no pressure.” Jade’s voice softens, reading my expression. “Just thought I’d ask.”
“Maybe next time,” I manage, forcing a smile.
She nods, thankfully accepting the deflection. “Your loss, boo. I’m going to shake what my momma gave me until all the single dudes are buying me drinks.” She winks and sashays back to her station.
I watch her go, a deep longing stirring in my chest.
Jade is confident and full of life. I want that for myself again. And I’m getting there. Slowly, but it’s still forward motion. Still progress.
Baby steps.
My eyes drift across the shop to where Killer is hunched over a client’s arm, the buzz of his machine renting the air. I’m mesmerized by his intense focus as those massive hands covered in scars create such beautiful art. The big guy is a complete enigma that has me craving things I thought I’d never want again.
Yet here I am. Wondering how it would feel to have his hands touching me, loving me.
A shiver runs through me as I watch the muscles in his forearms flex as he wipes away the excess ink. The sleeve of tattoos that covers his brown skin shifts and ripples. His jaw is set in concentration.
I nibble at the corner of my lip.God, he’s beautiful.
Things between us have been... changing.
He’s always touching my back, grabbing my hand, and lacing our fingers together. And don’t even get me started on the way my toes curl when he kisses me.
And at night, he holds me in his arms.
I think he’s waiting for me to be ready. Waiting for me to make the first move.
The phone rings, jolting me from my thoughts.
“Saints Ink, how can I help you?”
The rest of the day passes in a blur of appointments, walk-ins, and client paperwork. By closing time, I’m a little tired but satisfied.
This job feels right—like I’m contributing something, being useful. And the way Killer looks at me across the shop sometimes, all pride and possessiveness, makes my heart race.
“Good job today, Pet,” he says as he approaches my desk, the last client gone and the doors locked for the night.
I smile up at him, warmth spreading through my chest at the praise. “Thanks.”
