She looks like a Greek goddess with her dark hair, olive skin, piercing green eyes, and long legs stretched out across my table.

  Any other time, any other girl, and I’d totally be putting the moves on her, probably taking her back to my place for a one-and-done.

  She peers up, pushing her black-rimmed glasses up her nose, and smiles at me.

  Swear to Christ, my heart stopped along with the entire world. I’ve never seen a girl wearing glasses look so sexy before, and it’s doing all kinds of wicked shit to my body and is totally fucking with my mind.

  “Hey,” she says, her eyes raking over me and not just my face.

  “Ready?” I walk in, trying not to stare at her tits, which is super hard because they’re fucking fantastic. “You can totally change your mind, and I won’t think any differently of you. This is a big commitment. There’s no turning back on a piece like this.”

  She sets her book on top of her legs, giving me a full view of her upper body. It’s like a one-two punch to the face, but somehow, I don’t swallow my own tongue or start to drool. “It’s nice to see you again and not when you need to save me,” she says.

  “Yeah.”

  “I never got to thank you enough for helping me out.”

  “There’s no need to thank me, Arlo. How have you been? You seemed—”

  “I’m great,” she says, not letting me finish my statement. “I was in a bad place back then, but I’m so much better now.”

  “We all have shitty times in our lives, but I’m glad you’re doing better. You deserve to have better.”

  “You too, Mello,” she says with a small smile. “That’s why I told Lily I wanted to help when she said you wanted to find your forever.”

  “Well, I appreciate your input. I swear I’m not broken.”

  “Never thought you were. A guy who’s broken wouldn’t have stopped to help me twice and been nothing but a great guy about it.”

  I clear my throat, feeling uncomfortable with the conversation. “You sure you want to do this?” My gaze dips to her exposed ribs and her perfect, blemish-free skin. “We can still fake date without the pain and permanent reminder of me etched on your skin.”

  “I want this,” she tells me, never breaking eye contact. “I’ve wanted a dragon for as long as I can remember, and when I saw your drawing, I knew it was the one.”

  “I can make it smaller, less intricate, and put it somewhere a little less painful.”

  “I want it just like it is,” she says, her eyes dipping to the piece of paper I set next to her when I entered the room. “It’s beautiful.”

  “I have something similar. Almost everyone in the family has a dragon somewhere on their skin too.”

  “Where’s yours?” she asks, her eyes moving over my skin, searching for the ink.

  “On my ribs.”

  “Let me see it,” she whispers.

  Reaching back, I yank my T-shirt over my head. Her eyes light up, moving over my skin like she’s studying a work of art.

  “Turn,” she says, finally letting go of my arm. “Show me all your ink.”

  Without hesitation, I stand so my back is at her eye level and turn to face the door. I jump when her warm fingers touch my skin and start tracing the outline of the tattoo on my back I had my brother put there five years ago.

  “It’s all stunning,” she whispers, the leather under her body squeaking before her warm breath joins her fingertips as I turn. “The work is exquisite. The dragon is powerful and a slight variation on the one you’re putting on me.”

  “I drew them both,” I tell her, my voice strained because I like the way her fingers feel against my flesh. I close my eyes, letting her get her fill and loving every second her skin is on mine.

  “I want it,” she says, her fingers moving over my ribs and down the tail of the dragon. “Seeing it in person…the power, the beauty… I know I want it, Mello.”

  “Whatever you want, babe. I’ll give it to you,” I say, worrying I mean those words about more than a simple tattoo.

  “Good,” she tells me, and a second later, the warmth of her fingers vanishes. “I’m ready.”

  I lift my arms, about to put my shirt back on, when she whispers, “Don’t.”

  I turn, staring down at her. “You want me shirtless?”

  “It’s only fair,” she says with a smile, tipping her head downward to her lace-covered breasts. “Don’t you think?”

  “You’re playing dirty, Arlo.”

  “Who said I had to play fair?”

  I swallow the groan that’s hanging in the back of my throat, trying not to fall for her games. “Stand up for me so we can place it right,” I tell her softly, knowing the next few hours are going to be more painful for me than her.

  She stands, her breasts in my face, arms at her sides. “Like this?” she asks, looking down at me so innocently, I almost fall for it.

  “Just like that. I’m going to run my hand across your skin to see if we need to shave any hair and then place the tattoo. I swear to God, I’m not touching you for no reason.”

  She laughs, and it’s the sweetest sound in the world. “It’s okay. Lily explained it all to me. It’s pretty hard to tattoo me without touching.”

  I lift my hand as she stares down at me, and before I can touch her ribs, she places her hands on my shoulders. We’re entering dangerous territory and alarm bells are going off in my head, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

  I am a professional after all. I’ve tatted just about every single body part you can imagine. But this is the first time touching a client feels like something else…something more.

  Her skin is like silk underneath my palm, smooth and hairless. “Babe,” I say, my voice coming out way deeper and betraying the shit she’s doing to my insides. “I need you to put your hands down to place the tattoo.”

  “Sorry,” she says, but she’s slow to move her hands.

  “Stand up straight.”

  She does, but I can’t resist the urge to touch her hips, making sure she’s fully facing me. “Don’t move.”

  Arlo barely breathes as I prep the spot, carefully laying the stencil on her skin and rubbing over it with my palms, transferring it to her body.

  This simple act of placing her outline may be the most erotic moment of my life, and there’s not even any sex involved.

  How fucked up is that?

  Super fucked up and more than I can wrap my brain around.

  If I think about it too much, I’m going to mess this all up, and the last thing I want is to give her a shitty tattoo that’ll be the only blemish on her otherwise perfect body.

  As soon as the paper is off, she steps up to the full-length mirror on the back of the door. “What do you think?” she asks me, turning from side to side to see it from different angles.

  “Beautiful,” I whisper, but I’m talking about her and not just my outline on her skin.

  “I love it,” she says, running her fingers around the outside edges.

  I can’t stop myself from staring at her in the mirror. Fuck, this is going to be a miserable month.

  “You ready?”

  “Yeah.” She turns toward me, the real thing more spectacular than the reflection. “Promise you’ll be gentle with me.”

  “I promise,” I tell her, meaning every word. “Tell me when it becomes too much, and I’ll do whatever I can to make you more comfortable.”

  She climbs up on the table, lying back with her ribs facing me. “You have some music or something? It’s too quiet in here.”

  “What do you want to listen to?” I brace myself, waiting for her to say Shawn Mendes or some other fluffy-ass girl shit.

  “Drowning Pool or something like that would be great.”

  My eyebrows rise, moving on their own and out of complete shock. “Metal?”

  “Hell yeah. Something hard and heavy.”

  It’s official. I’m fucked. Not a little fucked. But totally and completely fucked. It’s like Lily gave Arlo the playbook to get to me as fast as possible, plucking my dream girl out of thin air.

  I make quick work of it, putting on a metal playlist I’ve saved and listened to a hundred times.

  Arlo stares up at the ceiling, one arm over her head and the other down at her side so I can get full access and see everything too.

  I put on my gloves with my eyes trained on her skin. Everything else is ready to roll, but there’s a knot in my stomach, something I can’t quite place as I pick up the gun. “Small line at first so you can see how it feels.”

  “Okay,” she whispers and holds her breath.

  “Make sure you breathe. It’s important. I don’t need you passing out on me.” She doesn’t even flinch as I touch her skin.

  “Yes, Mello. I’ll breathe, but I may need you to remind me every once in a while.”

  “I’ll remind you, babe. I got you.”

  She turns her face toward me and smiles. “I know you do.”

  When the needle touches her skin, she squeezes her eyes shut and stops breathing. “You sure about this?” I ask her one final time, because a line, I could make into something pretty and quick, but anything more and there will be no turning back.

  “Yes,” she whispers, keeping her eyes closed. “I want this. Stop asking and get to it.”

  “You got it.” I go straight into work mode. Ignoring that she’s a pretty girl and one I’m going to fake date for the next month.

  I am here to do a job, and she deserves my best damn work.

  But three hours in, she starts to squirm more than she has before, and I’ve given her a break every hour. “Let’s finish this tomorrow.”

  “No,” she says, those green eyes meeting mine. “I can do this, and I don’t think I could come back and do this again. Finish it now.”

  “One sec,” I tell her, going to the sink and grabbing a washcloth down from the cabinet, wetting it under the cold water.

  I place it on her forehead, to which she sighs and then smiles. “That feels so good. Thank you. So much better.”

  “I’m going to do this as fast as possible.” It’s getting tough for me to watch her in so much pain. But she’s sat through every second without whining, which is impressive because I’ve seen some burly-ass men turn into the biggest pansies under my needle.

  “Pain is a state of mind, Mello. I promise I’m fine. Just keep going,” she reassures me.

  And I do.

  A few hours later, I’m wiping off her tattoo, and Arlo’s skin is red and angry. Her body sags as soon as the word Done comes from my lips.

  “How’s it look?” she asks me, staring up at the ceiling, her skin covered in a slight sheen of perspiration.

  “Stunning,” I tell her, unable to take my eyes off my design gracing her body. “Want to see?”

  “Yes,” she whispers and starts to move.

  “Go slow,” I say, taking her hand to control how rapidly she gets up. I can’t take my eyes off her as she makes her way to the mirror, staring at my mark on her skin.

  “It’s perfect. So perfect,” she whispers, tears dotting her eyes. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen something more beautiful.”

  “Me either,” I murmur.

  “Do you like it?” she asks, not hearing my comment.

  “I love it, Arlo.”

  She turns, places her hands back on my bare shoulders, leans forward, and places her lips against my cheek.

  I stop breathing, soaking in her softness and the sweet smell of her skin.

  “Thank you,” she murmurs against my ear.

  My hands move to her hips, a completely inappropriate place for me to put them, but that doesn’t stop me. “You’re welcome, but thanks aren’t required. I just want you happy.”

  “I am happy, and I’m excited for what comes next.”

  “What comes next?” I ask, going stupid.

  “Our date.”

  I nod, dropping my hands. “Right.” I clear my throat, hoping to God she doesn’t see the wood I’m sporting and trying like hell to cover. “When?”

  “I’ll call you.”

  “Okay.” I smile, moving my stool away from her and out of her intoxicating orbit. “Let me wrap you up and get you out of here.”

  “Sure,” she says, lifting her arms, giving me the most spectacular view of her stomach, tits, ribs…all places I want to explore with my tongue.

  I’ve never wrapped someone up so quick, going over the directions, and sending them out the door. Instead of taking her to the front desk myself, I call Lily to the room to do it for me.

  Lily pops her head inside, her eyes widening when she sees me shirtless. “What the…”

  “It’s not what you think,” I reassure her, lifting my hands.

  She flattens her lips. “Really?”

  Arlo laughs as she grabs her book from the table. “Lil, he was a complete gentleman. I asked him to keep his shirt off so it would be fair.”

  Lily’s eyes move to Arlo and brighten. “If you say so,” Lily says, but I know she’s judging me. “Come on. I’ll check you out.”

  “It’s on the house, Lil. Don’t charge her.”

  “I’m paying. I insist. You already paid for my car. I can’t let you pay for the tattoo.”

  “Nope.” I shake my head. “My treat.”

  Arlo smiles and thankfully doesn’t argue with me. “I’ll pay you back,” she promises.

  “I’m sure we’ll find another way for you to compensate me.”

  Preferably by letting me explore her body, but since she’s allegedly a virgin, that would be highly unlikely. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try.

  Lily glares at me, her lips twisting, but Arlo’s all smiles. “See you soon, Mello,” Arlo says before giving me another quick kiss on the cheek and leaving the room with my cousin.

  I sit there, staring at the door, and I know this is all going to go very, very wrong.

  9

  Forty-eight hours have passed since Arlo walked out of Inked, promising to call, but my phone hasn’t rung.

  The worst part is, I’ve been waiting.

  I have never been the one to sit around, staring at my screen, trying to will the other person to call.

  Is this how all the chicks in my life felt before?

  God, I was such a dick.

  It’s a shitty feeling, filled with self-doubt, self-deprecation, and self-loathing. I’ve hit every stage, though briefly, over the last two days.

  When I can’t wait any longer, I grab my phone, quickly sending a message to Lily to see if the game has changed.

  Me: Hey.

  I immediately regret the message. The bitterness coating the back of my throat only grows as I stare at the empty screen, waiting for a reply.

  “I’m a moron,” I whisper, tossing my phone on the bed to get ready for a night out.

  There is no way I’m going to sit around on a Friday night, jerking myself off, waiting for a woman to call. I gave Lily my word, but so far, Arlo is the one in breach of contract.

  But when my phone dings, I dive-bomb onto the bed, scooping up the sucker as quickly as possible.

  Lily: Hey.

  Me: How are you?

  I have to make some small talk. Jumping right into asking about Arlo will be tipping my hand, and I never like to do that, even if it involves family.

  Lily: Um, good. U?

  Me: Great. Great.

  Lily: What’s up?

  Me: Why does anything have to be up?

  Lily: You rarely text me outside the group chat.

  Me: I’m turning over a new leaf.

  Lily: You’re waiting for Arlo, aren’t you?

  Me: No.

  Lily: Liar.

  That text is followed by a winky face on Lily’s end and a slew of curse words on mine. I hate that she knows me so well. She shouldn’t. She’s the sweetest and most innocent one in the family, but she and I click for some strange reason. I think it’s her insatiable need to fix things, including people.

  Me: Heard from her?

  Lily: Have you?

  Me: Fuck. Would I be asking you if I had?

  Lily: Interesting.

  Me: What’s interesting?

  Lily: Arlo not texting you.

  I roll onto my back, throwing more than a few “motherfuckers” out there because my cousin is trying my patience, and I can guarantee she’s laughing her ass off, too.

  Me: Never mind.

  Lily: Mello.

  Me: This was the dumbest idea ever. I don’t know how you talked me into it.

  Lily: Cause you’re old and need to settle down.

  I blink, snarling at the screen as she uses my own words against me.

  Me: I’m not old, and I do NOT need to settle down.

  Lily: You said that, though. You said you were “old and tired.”

  Me: I needed a nap, babe. Not a new life.

  I’m fucking lying, and she’s calling me out. Lily forgets nothing. Never has and never will. The girl’s mind is like a steel trap, mining little gems when she needs to remind us of our bullshit.

  Lily: You want a family someday, right?

  My mind goes there, and I let it. But the most fucked-up part is it’s Arlo holding a green-eyed little girl, the spitting image of her mother, lying next to me. I shake my head, ridding myself of that insane thought.

  Me: Someday. I still have a solid decade left in me, though.

  Lily: A decade? You’ll be 40.

  Me: And…

  Lily: You want more than one kid?

  Me: Fuck if I know. I’ll have whatever she wants.

  Lily: Then you better get on that, Casanova, cause you’re not getting any younger. And your shit may work now, but eventually, it’ll give out like an old engine.

  I read her message more than once with my fingers hovering over the buttons, formulating my reply.

  Me: Men don’t have an expiration date, Lil.

  Lily: Oh. Guess what?

  Me: What?

  Lily: Arlo’s calling. Hang on.

  Me: What’s she saying?

  Lily: Hello.

  Me: No shit. What else?

  Lily: Shut up so I can talk to her. Jesus.

  Me: Mention me.