Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 148188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
When he stands up, I can't believe that he’s even bigger than I thought. “I’m Neily.” I hold my hand out for him to take. He gives it a funny look before he engulfs my hand in his much larger one. He looks almost startled by my abruptness. At least that is what my family says I am. Abrupt. As quickly as I get into something, my departure is usually just as quick.
“Neily.” My name rolls of his tongue rougher than I’ve ever heard it before. His voice matches him. Rough and raw. That's what I thought when I first saw him. He snagged my attention like no one has before. I think it’s his features. He isn't what one would call handsome. His jaw and nose look as though they’ve been cut from stone. No, he is sexy.
“Who did your tattoo?” I ask as my eyes go to his arms. The artist in me is always curious when there is good work on display. A quick thought passes through my mind at what may lie underneath those clothes of his. Curious to know if it’s a blank canvas. I go to touch one and realize he still has my hand in his.
“I need this back.” I wiggle my hand. He’s hesitant at first but then he smirks at me, letting go. I grab his arm, inspecting the work. I begin to trace my fingertips over the smooth lines of the piece.
The color has been filled in with a keen eye, letting me know that whoever did it has a talent that's off the charts. I know a few tattoo artists around town but I don’t recognize this style. It’s done beautifully. My fingers tighten on his arm, digging in when I think that maybe a woman put these marks on him.
“You like them?” he asks, breaking me from my insane moment of jealousy.
“Yeah,” I admit, letting go of his arm.
“I have more.”
I have no doubt. I shrug, not caring anymore. I inwardly sigh, feeling more disappointed than I should. I guess this night is going to be a bust for me. At least Alyssa got her man.
Something drew me to this man, but the way my body and mind are already reacting to him lets me know that I need to stay away from him. No good will come of this. He belongs to someone else. I’m starting to think my mom was wrong about this whole finding your soulmate thing. That you know when you see them. What if they already belong to someone else?
“Well, this was fun.” I push my glasses up my nose, trying to hide my disappointment. “See you around.” I turn to leave as fast as I came. He grabs my wrist, pulling me back to him.
“What just happened?” My body presses against his. The desire I felt the second that I saw him comes rushing back. Not yours, I remind myself.
“Who did your tattoos?” I ask, avoiding his question.
“My friend Marco. He has a shop on 5th and Central.”
“Oh.” I perk up. My fingers dig into his shirt. I must have placed my hand on his chest when he pulled me back to him.
“Why did you try and leave?” he asks again. His hand is still wrapped around my wrist. His touch is gentle but firm.
“I thought some other woman had marked you.” I turn in his hold, my fingers brushing down his arm. God, he feels good. I settle more into him. I don’t know why but he feels safe.
“Do you do tattoos?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I thought about it but I’m not sure I’d want to be around people all the time.” I pull my eyes from his arm. “I also grow bored of projects easily. I like to be able to change what I’m working on.”
“Artist?”
I shrug. “I guess.”
“And you didn't like the idea of some other woman having her mark on me.”
I feel my face grow warm. I reach up to touch my cheek. Yup, my cheeks are definitely rosy. “I guess I didn’t,” I admit. I don’t know why I am blushing.
“Will you sit with me?” He motions to where he was sitting.
“Can I have one of those pink martinis?” I look around for the woman that had brought some to my table earlier.
“I’ll get you anything you’d like if you’ll stay.” He motions with his hand for one of the servers to come over. The woman almost trips over her feet to get to us. I’m guessing to get to him, not me so much. I tell myself that I’m staying for the martinis but deep down inside, I know that it’s way more than that.
“Tomas. What can I get you?” She bats her eyes at him, not even bothering to spare me a glance. He pays no mind to the woman; his eyes remain focused on me.