Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Do I know you?”
I don’t plan on asking this. I don’t plan on saying anything, since it looks like he’s ready to flip out on me for some unknown reason, but I have to say something. He’s staring at me hard.
“No,” he says, his voice gruff and husky.
It’s the sort of voice I can imagine whispering my name, his warm breath tickling over my skin… which is silly because I never have fantasies like this, never fall so quickly into the what ifs of desire like some of my friends sometimes do.
Before I can say anything else, the door to Marty’s tattoo room opens. Marty is tall and lean, sometimes jokingly calling himself a gnarled tree root, wearing a baggy sweater that highlights his leanness.
“Kayden, brother,” he says, walking over to the silver-haired, icy-eyed man, the man who’s making my skin tingle in the craziest way.
Kayden stands, finally taking his eyes off me. Even if his intense gaze was making me feel spotlighted, I experience a strange sense of absence once he drags it away, leaving me missing it, missing him.
“This piece is taking a little longer than planned,” Marty goes on. “I wish I’d called you. I want to do Sergeant justice and not rush the consultation.”
Sergeant.
Was Kayden in the military, too?
Marty was, which is how I landed this gig through Dad, and a lot of Marty’s customers are.
“I’m not too far from my next appointment,” Kayden says. “Don’t sweat it, Marty.”
“I hate for you to come for nothing.” Marty turns, spots me, then his eyes widen like the most brilliant idea has just struck him. “What if you did the consultation, Luna?”
I’m supposed to arrange the storage room today, so anything would be better. But the thought of being in a room alone with this silver-haired starer—with Kayden—makes my heart beat like it’s trying to bust out of my chest.
“You can give me the notes after,” Marty goes on, his tone getting insistent now.
“Sure,” I say, since he’s my boss.
Anyway, there’s no chance of these silly fantasies coming true, like Kayden suddenly leaning over and guiding those hard-to-read lips to mine, or Kayden looping those powerful arms around me.
Even if he did, I’d tell him to stop. I’m not into cheap sex.
I almost laugh at that. As if I have a type when it comes to that stuff.
“Are you cool with that?” Marty asks Kayden.
Kayden stands, towering over Marty, his body seeming more muscular and broader when he’s on his feet. He looks over at me again, those icy-blue eyes making my skin shiver all over.
“Sure,” he says after a pause.
He says it like he wishes the word was magic, like he wishes he could say it and make me explode. Maybe he’s just being polite to Marty, agreeing to work with me. Maybe he’s annoyed at being shoved onto the amateur.
“Sorry again,” Marty says.
“You’re a perfectionist. It’s why I come to you. Don’t be sorry.”
Marty nods gratefully and walks back into the studio.
I approach Kayden, my legs feeling airier the closer I get. It’s like they’re going to suddenly drop out from underneath me and leave me a mess on the floor with Kayden staring down at me with the same ambiguous intensity.
“Do you want a drink or something before we start?” I ask.
“No,” Kayden says.
“Okay then. Follow me.”
I push open the door to the third studio, by far the smallest, and walk to the desk in the corner. There are photos on the walls of some of my pieces, each one filling me with pride, even the simple ones like a heart on the shoulder in honor of a lover.
I sit behind the desk, facing the door. Kayden stands at the edge of the desk, his hands behind his back.
“Do you want to sit?” I ask.
He glances at the closed door. They were built for fire safety and close automatically, but now they’re sending fire into me, flames licking and hissing at me as I realize we’re alone.
“No,” Kayden says.
I laugh awkwardly. He speaks in such a husky, stilted way, like the whole world was designed to piss him off. “Okay.”
He smirks tightly down at me, his eyes glinting. “Old legs. Old knees.”
I wonder if it’s that… or if it has something to do with him scanning the room, the windows, looking at the door constantly. It’s as if he expects a threat to appear any second.
You’re safe here, I almost tell him. You’re not over there anymore.
Dad has taught me to never push with military types, to never presume.
“You’re not old,” I say.
Kayden chuckles. There’s a forced quality to it, but the laughter is welcome. “I’m forty-two this year. That must seem ancient to you.”
I kind of wish I’d stayed standing now. I have to crane my head to look at him. The light’s behind his head, causing me to squint. A silly part of my mind imagines him liking this, me sitting beneath him, me at his mercy.