Scooping it up, I stride back out of her room and hold it up. “Got it,” I say, finding her in the middle of tipping out the contents of her handbag, though I don’t know what she expects to find in there. I’ve peaked in there once before and it was terrifying.

  Kyah’s head snaps up, relief shining in her bright blue eyes. “Thank fuck,” she breathes, scurrying toward me and scooping it out of my hand. She glances down at the screen and lets out a frustrated groan. “Damn it,” she mutters. “It’s still almost dead.”

  “Does it matter?” I ask, stepping into her, my fingers at her chin, lifting until those blazing eyes meet mine. “You won’t need it, not when you’re with me.”

  Her gaze softens as her hand slips beneath the fabric of my shirt. She skims her fingers up my body until finally flattening her hand against my chest. “You’re playing with fire,” Kyah warns me. “You’re gonna get burned.”

  “I know,” I rumble. “But if I’m getting burned, you’re coming down with me.”

  She narrows her eyes on me as if trying to decipher just how serious I am, but she should know by now that when it comes to her, I’m not fucking around. She inches back, letting her hand fall from my chest. “We should go,” she says.

  I nod and press my hand to her lower back, leading her toward her door, but she sidesteps back toward the kitchen, grabbing her ID and keys off her counter before making her way back to the door. I follow, stepping out behind her and pulling the door closed with a soft thud, and after quickly locking up, we’re finally on our way down to the bar.

  It’s a quick walk, only two minutes down the road from her apartment, and as we step through the main doors, I look around at all the people crammed in like sardines. I hadn’t taken that into consideration. I usually don’t get off work till much later, and by the time I’m hitting up dive bars, most of the drunken idiots have already stumbled out into the street and passed out in a gutter somewhere. Though something tells me Kyah doesn’t care all that much. She’s into the party scene. People gravitate toward her. They see her and instantly know she’s going to be a good time, but tonight, she’s my good time.

  We weave our way toward the busy bar, and just as we approach, another couple gets up and Ky is quick to steal their seats. She looks back at me with a grin, and I can’t resist smiling right back at her.

  Fuck me. She’s always been so damn irresistible.

  I take my seat beside her, twisting my body to keep her in my sight. Meeting her gaze, I point toward the bar. “What are you drinking?” I ask over the loud eighties cover band cramped in the corner.

  “That depends,” she says as the bartender reaches out with a rag, cleaning off the spilled beer the last couple left smeared across the bar. “How fucked up are you trying to get me?”

  “Fucked up enough that you forget to slam those walls of yours back into place.”

  “Shit. Then you’re gonna have to hit me with tequila,” she laughs. “Make it a margarita.”

  “You got it,” I say, turning to the bartender and ordering our drinks, and as I glance back at Ky, my hand falls high on her pretty thigh. Her gaze falls to where I touch her, and she starts to worry her lips. “Don’t do that,” I say, reaching up and freeing her bottom lip from between her teeth. “You’ve known this was coming for years, and now that I’ve had you, I don’t intend on letting you go.”

  “But—”

  “No,” I say, my hand tightening on her thigh. “I know you’re not ready, Ky. I know you still want to fuck around and be free, and that’s fine. I’m not asking you to get into some kind of committed relationship with me.”

  Her gaze flickers toward the bartender, probably wondering where the fuck her drink is. “Then what the hell are you trying to tell me?”

  “I’m telling you that from here on out, I’m your home,” I say. “When you’re finished fucking around and doing whatever you gotta do to make yourself feel like you’re in control, come back to me. It’s always been that way. It’s just time for you to admit it. You’re mine, Ky. Since the day you walked into High Voltage, you’ve been mine.”

  Her margarita is placed down in front of her, and she hastily scoops it up. “Oh God,” she mutters, taking a long drink. “You’re right. I’m going to need to get fucked up for this conversation.”

  I nod and watch as she takes another healthy sip, her glass now half empty. She places it down on the bar, keeping her hand on the rim of the glass between us where we can each see it, something she’s always done after a friend of hers was slipped a pill last summer. “You realize it was just sex, right?”

  “You realize it was so much more than just sex,” I throw back at her.

  “How can you say that?” she questions. “We’ve done other stuff, all the time, and you’ve never given me the whole we’re destined star-crossed lovers speech before. Why is this any different? It’s not like you made love to me and vowed your undying love. We fucked, and it was great, so why the hell won’t you let me set my boundaries again?”

  I indicate to her drink, letting her know she’s going to need some more, and she doesn’t hesitate, throwing back what’s left in the glass. “Because Ky, the moment I felt your tight little cunt squeezing around my cock, I wasn’t about to let you go,” I tell her, indicating for the bartender to get Ky a refill before I’ve even taken a single sip of my beer. “So get the fuck used to it. I know you’re young and not interested in the whole marriage and kids bullshit, but you can’t pretend that you didn’t feel how fucking good we are together.”

  “Crew,” she murmurs, shaking her head.

  “Deny it all you want, babe, but I know you feel it. Every fucking day I walk into the shop, I see it when you look at me. Hell, Big Jim fucking sees it too. Why else would he put up with our shameless flirting every fucking day? You know we’re good together.”

  Ky braces her elbow on the bar before dropping her face into her hand and groaning. “Crew, you said we were coming here to get fucked up and then you were going to screw me all night. You didn’t say shit about talking.”

  “How about this, baby. Every time you talk, I’ll get you a new drink.”

  “Fuck.”

  Her new margarita is placed down in front of her, and she greedily scoops it up, taking another long sip before bringing it back down to the bar. She meets my stare, holding it for a second and looking at me like she would rather be anywhere but here, but Ky has never been one to ignore a free drink. Her brows crease before letting out a deep sigh and leaning into me, crushing her forehead against my chest.

  My arm scoops around her back, holding her to me as I wait for whatever she wants to say. “High Voltage is all I have,” she tells me. “But you’re right, you and me . . . we just work, but I’m twenty-three. I don’t want any of this, not yet at least. I want to fuck around and have fun, just like you said, but where the hell does that leave us? I know you, Crew. You say you can wait around for me to do what I want to do, but we both know it’s going to drive you insane. Every time Viper makes some bullshit excuse to come into the shop, you can barely keep your cool. You’ll fucking explode having to sit back and watch me screw around. You can’t do it, and on top of that, I don’t want to do that to you.”

  “Don’t worry about what I can handle, Ky.”

  “I have to,” she throws back at me. “I care about you too much, and I know I’m going to fuck this up, which is exactly why I’ve tried to force this distance between us. And when that inevitably happens, where does that leave me with High Voltage? Big Jim is just as much a father figure to you as he is to me, and I don’t want to have to leave there because I fucked up and crossed a line I shouldn’t have.”

  I shake my head, pushing her back into her chair properly to better see her face. “You really think that low of me that I would let you fuck up so bad that you couldn’t show your face at High Voltage?”

  “No,” she says, her gaze lingering on mine. “I know you wouldn’t, but I also know me, and when I feel like I’m backed into a corner, I start lashing out, and I don’t want to hurt you, Crew. I love you too much.”

  I push her drink back toward her and she takes another sip. “I don’t want you feeling like I’m backing you into a corner,” I tell her. “But it’s time for you to know that there’s no more drawing lines in the sand when it comes to you and me. When I walk into work every morning, I’m going to grab you, and I’m going to kiss you until you’re falling to pieces, but I also know that when Viper walks in, he’s going to try the same thing, and I’m okay with the fact that, for now, that’s going to excite you. Hell, fuck him if you need to work him out of your system, but you should know, baby, once Viper has a taste of you, he’s going to sink his claws in and never let you go.”

  “I know,” she murmurs. “But he’s never going to treat me like you would. I’d be property to him.”

  I nod, relieved that she understands that. “You still need to be wary of him. There’ll come a time where he gets tired of asking, and then he’ll just take what he wants from you.”

  “The same way you’re taking what you want?”

  “Not even close,” I tell her. “The difference is, I take only what I know you’re able to give, but Viper will rob you blind.”

  She visibly swallows before averting her gaze to her drink, watching the condensation roll down her near-empty glass. “Does it make me an idiot for wanting to see what it’d be like with him?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head despite the way her words pierce straight through my chest. “It makes you human, but you know that if you do go there and he makes you uncomfortable in any way, I’ll come for you, Ky. I’ll always fucking come for you.”

  “Even if it kills you?”

  “Even then.”

  “Shit,” she says, blowing out a heavy breath.

  “Couldn’t agree more.”

  We sit and drink for the next few hours, talking shit about life and the shop until she starts swaying on her chair. Then all too aware that she still needs to function tomorrow and put art on somebody’s skin, I close out my tab and lead her out of the bar and back down the street.

  Kyah chills out a lot when she’s been drinking, and I’m not surprised when she slips her hand into mine and laces our fingers together. I loop our joined hands over her shoulder and pull her into my side, feeling so fucking right when she tilts her head against my shoulder. “So, what happens now?” she asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “With you,” she says, laughing to herself at some kind of silent joke that I’m not privy to. “Are you just going to mope around after me until I pull my head out of my ass and decide I’m ready for something more?”

  I scoff. “Do I strike you as the type to mope around while watching you fuck your way through Brooklyn?”

  “No, I guess not,” she says, sounding a little defeated. “I don’t like the idea of you sticking your dick into every available hole and then expecting me to put out too.”

  “I don’t expect you to put out, but when those little boys you’ve been playing with can’t get you off, you’re gonna come looking for me whether I’ve been fucking random women or not. You can’t resist, Ky.”

  She lets out a heavy breath, and I continue. “Do you really expect me to save myself for you when you’re not doing the same for me? That’s not me, Ky. I like sex. Hell, I fucking need it, and when I want it, I’m going to get it. It’s up to you if it’s your door I’m knocking at.”

  “Uggghhhh,” she groans. “Don’t put that kind of pressure on me.”

  “No pressure, babe. Just telling you how it is,” I say, stopping in the street outside her apartment complex and meeting her stare. “It’s simple. I want you, and I know you want me too, but you’re not ready. So until then, we’ll fuck. We’ll have fun, screw around with other people, and then one day, maybe a few years from now, you’ll come and tell me that you’re done with the bullshit.”

  “But you’re already done with the bullshit,” she says. “It makes me feel like I’m forcing you to wait for something you want now when there’s probably some other gorgeous woman out there who’s willing to give you that without all the screwing around.”

  “You’re right. There are,” I tell her, not willing to be dishonest with her. “But no matter how much they want to throw themselves at me, I don’t want what they can offer me. I want you.”

  “Damn it, Crew,” she groans. “Why can’t this be easy? Why’d you have to go and blur the lines?”

  “Oh, my sweet little Kyah. I think you’re underestimating just how much fun blurred lines can be,” I tell her, placing my hand on her lower back and leading her toward the door of the apartment complex and hashing in the access code.

  Once we’re inside, I pull her aside, pressing her back up against the wall and leaning into her, my nose skimming along the sensitive skin beneath her ear and feeling the way she shudders under my hold. “Blurred lines means that when I’m at work and have been watching you bending over your clients all day, I don’t have to just think about taking you out back and fucking you until your tight little cunt is squeezing around my cock, I actually get to do it. I get to throw you up on the hood of my truck, part your pretty thighs, and fuck you with my tongue, bend you over your kitchen counter, or take you in the shower. Anything you want.”

  “Anything I want?” she asks, panting heavily.

  I nod. “Anything.”

  “Right now?”

  I grind my hips into her, letting her know just how fucking ready I am for her. “Right fucking now.”

  “Good,” she breathes, her hand slipping up beneath the fabric of my shirt and pressing against my bare chest. “In that case, I need you to take me up to my apartment and throw me around like a fucking ragdoll. I need you to fuck me, Crew. In all the ways you just said. I want to feel your tongue working through my slit. I want you to make me sweat.”

  My cock becomes painfully hard and I growl deep in my chest, her words the sweetest music to my ears. Then without even a second of hesitation, I grab her hips and haul her over my shoulder, taking her ass upstairs and hoping like fuck this new prick who lives across the hallway hears every fucking second of it.

  8

  KYAH

  I swear, tequila is the devil’s lifeblood. What the hell was I thinking going so hard last night? My head aches, and I’m pretty sure I’m about to see the contents of my stomach. But hell, when having to face Crew and his demands for our future together, tequila is a necessity. Even though I feel awful this morning, I can’t bring myself to regret my night.

  A lot was said last night, words that can’t be taken back, but as long as he knows where I stand and is able to respect those boundaries, then we should be okay. I just hope these next few years waiting for me won’t destroy him. It almost makes me feel guilty for not being ready for a life with him. The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt him.

  But what if he finds someone else during that time and I foolishly missed my chance? Or what if those few years pass and I find that I’m still not ready to make a life with him? So much could go wrong. People change. Their hearts change, and their wants and needs change right along with it. To be completely honest, while I know how incredible we’d be together, I just don’t know if I want that . . . not yet at least.

  Glancing at the clock, I realize I’m going to be late for my first client if I don’t get a move on, and as I roll over in bed, I let out a sigh of relief, finding Crew already long gone. My hand stretches out over his side of the bed and finds it cold, as though it hadn’t even been slept in, and honestly, I really don’t know if it had. As soon as he finished rocking my world in a way it’s never been rocked before, I passed out.

  Considering everything we talked about at the bar, I wouldn’t be surprised to find he had left last night. Once a line has been drawn, he’s usually good at respecting them, and he’d already pushed my boundaries enough last night. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to then go and make me pull away by staying the night.

  Realizing I stink like a bar and sex, I hurry through a quick shower before noticing the remnants of my night with Crew left all over my bed. Fucking gross.

  Not having time to wash the sheets now, I yank them off my bed and drop them in a pile on my bedroom floor, wondering what the likelihood of running into Alex in the laundry would be before quickly dismissing the thought. I don’t have space for that kind of trouble in my life.

  It’s another big day. Saturdays are always my busiest, and usually I love that, but today, my pounding head is going to make this a challenge.

  Grabbing my phone off my bedside table, I find my gaze shifting over Alex’s number he left taped to my door last night, and before I scurry out of my room and change my mind, I grab it, shoving it deep into my bag before getting my ass out the door and locking up behind me.

  God. I must be an idiot for not throwing that away.

  My gaze flickers to Alex’s door, still so intrigued by the one guy I adamantly told myself that I wouldn’t be going out with. Hell, I feel guilty for just thinking about the possibility of going out with him after all of Crew’s heavy feelings last night, which is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.

  How can I even consider anything with Alex after Crew fucked me into oblivion last night? Hell, I know Crew almost better than he knows himself, and I know for damn sure he put in all the extra effort to blow my mind for that very reason. He wanted to ruin me for other men so that I’d come running right back into his open arms.

  Fucking asshole.

  After a twenty-minute stroll through the streets of Brooklyn, I finally push through the door of High Voltage Ink and see Big Jim already working on a client. Hearing the bell chime above the door, Jim glances up, and a fond smile spreads across his face, but as I make my way around the counter and into the back, his brows begin to furrow.

  I walk right into his side and drop a kiss to his cheek.