Page 26 of Virgin Skin

“Hold on.” Piston skirts past me, careful not to let any part of his body touch mine. He returns a minute later holding a leather jacket that’s different from the one he keeps insisting I wear. This one doesn’t have a club patch on it, and it smells brand new instead of like smoke and motor oil. “Here. It’s an old one of mine. You can borrow it as long as you need.”

The tips of his ears pink with the lie. My stomach swoops and my pulse spikes. Piston went out and bought me a jacket? Why is that so hot? I hold it up to my nose and immediately wish itwashis other jacket. Would it be too greedy to ask to swap them until he can get his scent nice and worked into this one too?

He clears his throat, and I realize I’m staring.

“Thank you.” My lips are tingling for that kiss I didn’t get earlier, but I settle for a quick squeeze of his bicep in thanks before I slip past him to go get changed.

Chapter 10

PISTON

It’s cowardly as hell,but as soon as Milo leaves Hero and me alone in the kitchen, I turn tail and bolt before he can read my crimes tattooed across my forehead.Attempted Defilement of Best Friend’s Son: Guilty.

I can hear their muffled voices and footsteps through the bathroom door as I crank on the shower and then lean against the sink while I wait for the water to warm up. I should probably take another ice-cold shower, to punish myself if nothing else, but I’m afraid if I do my nuts will finally fall the fuck off. There has to be a limit to the number of cold showers a guy can safely take, right? And two a day for four days has gotta be it.

The sound of the front door opening and closing is followed by silence in the house. I take a deep breath and look at myself in the mirror.

“It doesn’t matter how fucking cute or sweet he is, you have to pull it together,” I lecture my reflection. Then I huff a laugh at myself. If only getting Milo out of my head was as easy as giving myself a stern talking-to.

He’s been haunting my dreams all week. I wake up hard as steel, practically humping my bed with his name on my lips. If sex dreams were the worst of it, I might be able to knock some sense into myself. But, fuck, it’s only been four days since he moved in and I hate to say it, but I genuinely like his company. He’s fucking hilarious, always with some snarky commentary about whatever we’re watching at night. He keeps me laughing until my face hurts, wanting to watch just one more episode instead of going to bed, no matter how late it gets. And he’s good company in the mornings too, starting coffee if he wakes up before me, making breakfast when he manages to not get distracted.

I bite back a groan.

What the fuck am I going to do? Would it kill the kid to be a little less likable? Maybe I can convince him to start shitting with the bathroom door open or leaving dirty dishes in the sink for the sake of harmony? Or rather, for the sake oflessharmony. Any moreharmony and he’s going to end up in my bed.

My cock jerks eagerly at the idea.

“Not helping,” I mutter, throwing a glare at my dick before pushing the shower curtain aside and stepping under the hot spray.

I don’t have an appointment for another hour, so I take my time showering and getting dressed, forcing myself to focus on the massive grim reaper tattoo I’ll be starting today rather than the man I shouldn’t be thinking about.

It’s cold as balls even stepping into my garage. I’m glad I went ahead and picked up that new coat for Milo. It’s nice and heavy, so it should keep him plenty warm, even on the back of Hero’s bike… or mine. I should have gotten him a hat and gloves too. I can probably get away with doing the same as I did with the jacket and telling him they’re just old stuff of mine I don’t use anymore. I make a mental note to swing by a store later toget what he’ll need to keep him warm with the weather getting colder.

I won’t be able to get away with riding my Harley for much longer before I have to keep her in the garage for the rest of the winter and settle for driving my puttering old Honda around, but every year I push it until the very last minute. Until there’s ice or snow on the roads, I’m opting for the bike.

I pull around the back of the shop and park alongside the Harleys that are already there. Rowan, Lewis’s best friend and sole employee at Little Shop of Flowers, pops his head out into the alley behind our shared building.

“Hey.” I pull my helmet off and up-nod him in greeting.

“Hey. If you spot Lew, see if you can get him to pry his face off of Arrow’s. Tell him we got a few online orders in.”

I chuckle. “Will do.”

There’s a small twist of jealousy in my gut as I head in through the back door. I definitely don’t begrudge my best friend the kind of love he’s found with Lewis. They’re perfect for each other, honestly. I’ve never met two people whose brands of crazy match so well. But this problem I’m having, this damn crush I can’t shake, is a little bit their fault. They put the idea of happily ever after and passionate, forever kinds of love into my head in the first place. I was perfectly fine putting all my energy into my art and my bike until they started shoving it in all of our faces just how happy they are together. And, shit, yeah, maybe there’s more to life than what I’ve been doing until now. Maybe it would be nice to have a person who’s all mine.

As if on cue, Milo’s laughter echoes through the shop and makes my heart thunder.

It just can’t bethatperson, I remind myself.

I hang my jacket and helmet in the back room, then step into the main part of the shop. Hero is already hard at work on his first appointment for the morning and so is Tex. AgainstRowan’s prediction, Arrow and Lewis aren’t sucking face, but Lewisisin Arrow’s chair getting some ink. And Jag is up at the front counter with Milo with the appointment books spread open in front of them.

“That is just wrong.” Jag tuts. “Gomez and Thing?” He shakes his head with exaggerated disappointment. “You have to look up the throuple fanfic. Leaving Tish out is blasphemy.”

“This again?” I chuckle.

Milo looks up from the appointment books, his eyes dancing with amusement and mischief, and shrugs.

“He asked.”

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