Page 13 of Mine for 24 Hella-Hours
Why is this man following a stranger and offering her a deal that doesn’t pay him much? Unless he wants something else. Unless this transaction feeds a kind of hunger he relishes.
I brush the thought away because I’m here to have fun. Or to salvage this wasted night.
“Let’s go, bad boy.”
He grins widely, offering his hand to me and I take it. Ignoring the electricity we create in the simple contact.
“Just so we’re clear.” He ushers me to my car and right as I am about to slide inside he pulls me flush against his rock-solid chest. “I’m not a bad boy.” He pauses. The vehemence he holds in his starry-eyes is vacuuming all the air from my lungs. “I may be a wild ride. And I don’t need to cheat my way to the top when I’m already there.” His gorgeous face is an inch away. Lips almost grazing mine. So close it’s maddening.
Did I just skip to my next life?
The jump at his jaw has me on the precipice of sealing my lips to his and fuck the consequences.
I get inside the car and he tells me to meet him back at his shop above the club.
“Oh, wildflower.” He turns back, gazing at me through the window of my car. “What’s your name?”
I giggle mostly to myself but he can hear me too. “Dylan.”
“You owe me a dance.”
Confused about what he refers to, “what?”
All he does is arch a brow and a deadly dose of adrenaline strikes my system, “You are the guy I bumped into a month ago?!” a question. An answer. Not sure.I knew that deep, husky voice and his accent sounded familiar.My eyes widen, and my mouth forms an O-shape.
“Yeah, the one you ditched.” He doesn’t seem offended by it.
“My best friend’s sister was rushed to the hospital to deliver her baby. I’m sorry, I completely forgot when I got the call.”
“It’s all good. I think I won our little game from the other day. Seems to me like I found you with the lights on after all. I’ll see you in my shop, Dylan.” His sexy figure climbs back on his bike, kicking the engine back to life and speeding his way back to our destination.
Damn. What are the odds?
Dylan
Cominguptotheentrance of Luka’s tattoo shop,Vicious Ink, my heels click on the walnut parquet-flooring.
To the right sit two large, black tattoo chairs parallel to each other. The equipment and tattoo paraphernalia are organized on the shelves and underneath it are a few rolling carts.
Luka passes the tattoo chairs to make his way over to the sketching table where he has a tablet and random stuff tossed on the wooden surface. A piece of paper with a sketch of a man’s fingers inside a woman’s dripping pussy is taped on the fridge by the corner of the room behind him.
I take a deep breath.
“Take a seat.” He gestures with his hand. I climb onto the chilly leather chair that is covered in transparent plastic wrap.
I already have some art on my body and it’s always exciting to get a new ink. It’s a different feeling of satisfaction.
The remarkable graffiti on the smooth black wall behind me is illuminated by the red neonTattoosign above it and has my heart squeezing in delight. I take a moment to appreciate the artwork depicting an angel who fell for the devil and ruled alongside him. There’s nothing like monsters changing their stories and getting a well-deserved ending.
He turned professional the moment we stepped in his shop which goes to show how much he loves what he does and the seriousness he radiates. He preps his workspace efficiently, already knowing what he’s going to tattoo and getting the required inks ready.
“Your thigh looks like a good spot for my tattoo, agreed?” Taking the red ball cap from the table, he wears it backward, leaving some strands on each side of his face that unintentionally accentuate his sharp jaw.
Sexy.
“Agreed.”
“I’m putting a blindfold on you, is that okay?” He asks as he stares into my eyes and if he was an ocean I would have dove in the depths of his currents just to see how far it gets.
