Page 19 of Mine for 24 Hella-Hours
It was nice of him to update Sophie on last night’s occurrence. I still don’t like the idea, he went through my phone without my permission but I’m willing to look past it.
“Thank you for telling my friend I’m okay,” I say in a steady tone while he settles the divine plate of pancakes in front of me alongside a glass filled with pineapple juice.
Dammit, if he only knew that is the way to my heart.
Desserts.
“You’re welcome.” He clears his voice, “I didn’t mean to do it without your consent. You fell asleep so fast that when I got there it was too late and I didn’t want to wake you.” He looks down at me, infusing reassurance into the monstrous void in my brain.
“Thanks for telling me.”
The fork slices through the fluffy pancakes, spilling maple syrup down like a waterfall of goodness. The first bite is flooding my system with contentment and joy. “That’s really good.”
Another mouthful makes its way down my throat, the taste explodes in my mouth and I moan.
“Special someone taught me how to make it.” He chortles to himself, latching his eyes with mine. “I wanted you last night and I still want you now.”
I swallow the remnants of food, the syrup leaks from the corner of my mouth, and the intensity in his gaze renders me immobile.
“Thought you should know.” He takes the seat next to mine, a silent question in his eyes. I nod in acceptance. “I want to scrape every patch of your skin, lick and kiss it anew.”
My heart thrums in my chest, cheeks blushing as heat climbs up my body.
He cleans the slippery drop and sucks his thumb to his mouth. Then, caressing my cheek with a callous finger.
His dark eyes zero in on my lips, brushing them with his roaming digit. His pupil’s caper on an invisible string between my mouth and my eyes. “Want to play, wildflower?”
That smirk dances along the twitch in his chiseled jaw. His eyebrow curving up and that damn tongue licking his bottom lip.
Triple treat.
A palpable sense of longing whips at us in this exceptional awakening. The desire reflects in his piercing darkness. The same one that towed me into action last night.
“Yes.” I gasp. Looking for my resolve which apparently I ditched the minute I stepped into this building.
“Me too.” He leans back, ceasing the sweet torturous touch of his. “This Friday night, when you come back.”
A flash of disappointment meets my face.
On second thought, it’s a good thing. I need to freshen up. Change clothes. Call Sophie. Regain my composure.
I guess this alternative is for the best. “Yeah you’re right, Fri-yay.” I shake my wrists and my head sideways, managing to make him laugh again.
I finish my food, gather my things, and head to the elevator. It’s kind of weird he has an elevator but I guess it adds to the wonder that is Luka.
“Come back on Friday and we’ll start your adventurous twenty-four hours. Don’t forget to treat your ink.” He wags his finger to my thigh.
“Thanks, I won’t. Not my first rodeo.”
“Yeah?” He chuckles as he washes the dishes he insisted on cleaning. “We’ll see.”
What dirty deal did I make?
I scroll through my phone, reading articles about Luka and his tattoo shop. A deal with no other than The Devil AKA Luka Birmingham.
Everyone wants to be underneath his needle. Devilishly handsome inked artist. Who’s brave enough to get a piece from the devil blindly? No questions asked. No turning back. One tattoo of his choice. Letting the master do what he knows best and in return, he’s yours for twenty-four hours.
I swear my mind is a black hole at times. Thankfully, that’s not what the article said. Only my delusional brain.
