My body doesn’t seem to care if he likes me or not. It’s practically screaming, begging for more of his touch. My greedy eyes have watched, taking in his every movement as he works on my tattoo. My lust has increased with every passing second, with every touch of his fingers on my arm.
My fucking arm!
I’ve never been this worked up over something so completely non-sexual. It’s that simple fact that brings me to a sudden realization.
It’s not what he’s been doing that has my body on the verge of combustion.
It’s him.
And I have no fucking idea what to do with that.
“...should stop here for now. I’ve gotta get these interviews done, but we can finish up in a few weeks.”
Snapping myself out of my crazy thoughts, I breathe in deep and try to calm my racing heart.
When I don’t respond, he leans in, forcing me to look at him. “You okay, Princess?”
Licking my lips to wet them, I nod.
“I’m good.”
He searches my face for a moment before nodding.
“Good. Let me explain aftercare to you and then you can head out.”
I nod again, still reeling from my revelation.
Somehow, I manage to listen to the instructions he gives me, forcing myself to concentrate because I know it’s important.
I can work out my feelings about Adam later.
FOURTEEN
Adam
I follow Presley to the front of the shop, thankful as fuck I was able to adjust my dick before she noticed the bulge in my behind my zipper.
Fucking Christ.
It was impossible not to notice the flush in her cheeks, the way her hips moved ever so slightly as she clenched her thighs.
It’s not unusual for someone to be turned on from the pain of being inked. Hell, today isn’t even the first time it’s happened in my chair.
But never once have I ever had such a visceral reaction to someone else’s lust. The instant she relaxed under my ministrations and the pain turned to pleasure, my dick hardened. It was almost impossible to concentrate on the design with my dick trying to fight free from the confines of my jeans.
The break I insisted we take to stretch our legs? Fucking hell. It was nothing more than an excuse, giving me the opportunity to rush to the bathroom and rub one out before I came all over myself like a teenage boy with his first dirty magazine. I came so fast I’d be embarrassed if anyone ever found out.
Fuck. I should be fucking ashamed of myself for getting myself off mid-tattoo while thinking about my client.
But Presley isn’t just any client, is she?
I never would have been able to finish today without that release. I’ve never been so goddamn turned on in my life.
Christ.
As expected, two guys are sitting in the lobby waiting when we exit the hallway. I don’t miss the way their greedy eyes follow Presley as she rounds the front desk. Trying to remain professional, I grind my teeth to keep my mouth shut.
Ignoring the assholes, I open the scheduling program on the computer and put her down for an appointment three weeks from now. I make sure she’s my last appointment of the day in case we run into any other unexpected situations. Grabbing a business card, I write the day and time down, deciding at the last minute to add my cell number to the back.
“See you in three weeks, Princess,” I say, handing it over. “Call me if you have any questions or concerns.”
“Thanks, Adam.”
Paying no mind to the men waiting, she turns for the door.
Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for the men. Their attention is focused solely on her. One of them stands quickly, moving toward the door.
Every muscle in my body tightens, coiled and ready to strike if the need arises.
He opens the door, holding it to let Presley pass. She smiles at him as she exits and the tick in my jaw returns. That gorgeous fucking smile of hers should only be for me.
She quietly thanks him, and he tips his head, letting the door close behind her. Dude grins, shaking his head at whatever salacious shit is probably running through his mind.
He catches sight of me from my position behind the desk. I know I look imposing. Arms crossed over my chest, muscles still tense and tightly wound. Clearing his throat, he mutters an apology before lowering his eyes.
Smart man.
I’m the fucking alpha around here.
“Follow me.” I demand.
The short trip to my office gives me a minute to calm down. I know I’m acting completely irrational, but I don’t give a fuck. I have no real claim on Presley, but that doesn’t matter. She’s off limits and these two are about to find that out firsthand.
Once we reach my office, I introduce myself and thank them for coming in. The one that held the door gives me a firm handshake, introducing himself as Trace. That means the other motherfucker, the one who strolled into my office, had a seat, and leaned back like he owns the place must be Jonah. I already don’t like the vibe I’m getting from him.
I take a seat behind my desk and Trace follows suit, only sitting once I have. Opening my drawer, I pull out their portfolios and drop them on the desk.
“I was impressed with the work you both submitted.” Trace smiles, but Jonah only leans back further, crossing one leg over the opposite knee. He gives no other reaction, so I continue. “I don’t like formal, stuffy interviews, so I didn’t bring you in here to play twenty fucking questions. We’re gonna hang out for a bit, get a feel for each other, and if I think you’ll be a good fit for my shop—you can start tomorrow.”
“Sounds good,” Trace says, chuckling.
I look at Jonah, who still hasn’t said a single fucking word since he stepped foot in my shop. He’s pissing me off, but I let it slide for now.
“First thing’s first. The girl that just left? Off. Fucking. Limits. You don’t ink her. You don’t touch her. You don’t hit on her. Don’t even fucking look at her. In fact, there are two more in town who look just like her. They’re all spoken for, all off limits. Feel me?”
Jonah scoffs and rolls his eyes at me. Rolls his fucking eyes.
I’ve had enough of his shit.
“Got somethin’ to say?”
Scoffing again, he finally speaks, “Yeah. This so-called interview is a fucking joke. I came here for a job, not for some asshole to lecture me about who I can or can’t fucking talk to.”
“A joke?” I chuckle darkly. “Yeah, you sure as hell are. Get the fuck out of my shop. See yourself out the same way you came.”
He huffs out a breath and stands.
I wait, wondering what his reaction will lead to, wondering if he’s gonna try to start some shit. But the tough guy only shoots a glare in my direction, shakes his head, and disappears through the door. Trace opens his mouth to say something, but I hold up a finger, silencing him while I listen. I wanna see if the other asshole is brave enough to try to fuck with something in my shop after being brave enough to call me an asshole to my face.