Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
I pump faster, letting images of her play on repeat, and there it is. I shoot off like a rocket, keeping my eyes closed, not wanting to let the images of her go just yet. I stand under the hot spray, letting the water rain down on me.
It’s been months since I’ve been laid.
Months.
Up until she came home for spring break, I was doing fine. I was able to pretend like she wasn’t the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. I still had the occasional hookup, nothing crazy, but I haven’t even looked at another woman since that night.
She broke my cock.
I can’t get it up for anyone but her. The guys and I go out for a beer and the ladies swarm. They tend to do that, thinking they’re walking on the wild side when they see our ink. Usually, there’s a stir of something, and if I’m feeling it, I’ll indulge. Since that night—nothing. Not a single twitch of my cock if it’s not her.
Emerson Huntley has me beguiled.
That translates to I’m fucked. She’s my best friend’s little sister. Little is the keyword, as she’s ten years younger than me, and I have no business thinking about her bent over her brother’s kitchen island, but here we are.
I need to do something to get her out of my head. It’s just a funk. It has to be. Forrest, and the rest of the guys, we’ve been tight since kindergarten. I can’t ruin a lifelong friendship because my cock wants her attention.
Who am I kidding? I want her attention.
When the water finally turns cold, I twist the handle and step out of the shower. Quickly, I dry off and slip into a pair of boxer briefs before climbing into bed. I stare up at the dark ceiling, willing sleep to claim me. When I finally manage to fall, I dream of her.
As tattoo artists, we keep crazy hours. Some early mornings, but a lot of late nights and weekends. We have to be available when our clients are. It’s nice, though, because we get to make our own schedules, and if we need time off for whatever reason, we take it. The five of us are equal partners in the shop, and none of us abuse the luxury. However, today is a day I wish that I would have canceled my clients and stayed locked up in my house.
Emerson is here. She wasn’t supposed to start until next week, but apparently, she was bored, so here she is. All five foot six of her, with her long brown hair, her big green eyes, and looking sexy as fuck.
So, now, here I am, sitting in my room, staring down at my sketchpad. I have a client coming in about twenty minutes, and I’m making some final tweaks to his design. However, I can’t concentrate with the sound of her laughter flowing throughout the building. It pisses me off that Legend, Maddox, and Lachlan are out there chatting her up. I know they all see her as a little sister. At least they better fucking see her that way, but it still pisses me off.
I know that I could go out there and join them, but I don’t trust myself to keep my hands off her. I grip my pen a little tighter. I swear I can still feel the softness of her skin from last night.
There’s a knock on my door, and I look up to find Emerson standing there. She has a small pad of paper in her hands. “Hey, Rome.” Her voice is soft and almost timid. I want to pull her into my arms and kiss the hell out of her.
“Em.” My voice is gritty.
“I’m going to run and grab lunch. Do you want something?”
You. “Sure. Just grab me anything,” I say as I reach into my back pocket for my wallet. I pull out two twenties and hand them to her. “Yours is on me.” I clear my throat. “For going to get it.”
“You don’t have to do that. Forrest already—” she starts, but I lift my head to stare at her.
“Use my money to buy your lunch, Emerson.” I don’t know why I’m making a big deal out of this. It’s just lunch, and he’s her brother, but there’s something deep inside me that wants to know that I took care of her today.
“Thank you, Roman,” she says, using my full name.
I nod and avert my gaze back to my sketch. Hopefully, my client will be here before she gets back, and I can get lost in my work. I try like hell to block out everything but the task at hand. It’s working until Maddox knocks on my door.
“Hey,” he says, sticking his head inside. “I’m manning the phones while Em’s off getting lunch. Your client is running twenty minutes behind. You don’t have anything after on the books.”