Page 26 of The First Spark

Clearing my throat, I force myself to remain on topic. Good luck convincing my dick of that idea. “Not just a bar. A modern-day speakeasy. A private club, open once or twice per week, complete with live music, dancing, and beverages from the Roaring '20s.”

Ori drags her tongue along her lower lip, marinating on the idea. Granted, her sexy as fuck gesture has me marinating on something else entirely.

Definitely not helping my dick situation.

At all.

“What do you think?”

“This is your concept?”

“My adaptation, anyway.” Narrowing my eyes, I try to interpret her silence. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“You hit me as more of a biker bar aficionado. No offense.”

Her remark irks the hell out of me. I get why she believes that way, even though it’s total nonsense. Stiffening, I kick my booted legs onto the worn coffee table with a frustrated huff. “That’s all you see, isn’t it? I’m covered in ink and ride a hog, so I must be part of an MC, right? Some fringe members of society who may or may not be involved in illegal activities? For your information, F. Scott Fitzgerald is my favorite author, and I want to bring back some small piece of the glory that was his heyday.” Another grunt flies from my mouth as I grab my glass of whiskey. “Probably a stupid idea, anyway.”

What most people don’t see behind my tough-guy facade is the sensitive man existing on the periphery. A man who, despite all the bed bunnies and accolades in the tattoo industry, has never quite felt good enough—a man who hides that insecurity behind a devil-may-care attitude.

Most times, it works like a charm. But for some reason, I find myself wanting Ori’s approval, and not just because I require her legal release.

I want a woman like Oriana to see that potential in me. To look past the tattoos and hardened exterior and glimpse the man inside … the one I let no one else see.

“It’snota stupid idea, Ash. In fact, I was looking around the space just before you arrived and thinking how the walls still whisper their secrets. She deserves a renaissance, and I think you’re the man for the job.”

“Now you’re patronizing me.”

Ori scoots closer and grabs my hand, her slight fingers entwined around mine. “It was a thoughtless comment that I never should have said. Trust me, I know there is so muchmore to you than tattoos and motorcycles. The speakeasy idea is brilliant, and the only issue I see is ensuring my late nights don’t interfere with yours, and vice versa.”

I hear her speaking, fully aware she’s given me the green light, but I’m preoccupied by the feel of her hand in mine. Her skin is like silk, compared to my calloused palms, and I wonder if the rest of her body is this soft.

“Ash?”

Snapping from my daze, I relax into a smile, even daring to lift her palm against my mouth to press a kiss to her skin. “We misjudged each other, all because of a seedy asshole named Micah. One who will sport several bruises after I see him again.”

“He’s not worth it.”

“He is, because I missed out on six months of knowing you.”

“On the flip side, you had six months to plot my demise,” Ori replies with a grin. “Don’t deny it. We’ve both thought up a hundred ways to make the other disappear.”

I clear my throat and shrug as I bite back a laugh. “None of which will be carried out, right? I know how tough you are, Little One, and I’m not sure I’m brave enough to continue messing with you.”

Truth? I love messing with her. She keeps me entertained because I’m never surewhatwill come out of her luscious mouth next.

Although now I’m thinking of tons of ways to keep her wicked tongue occupied.

Fuck. Get it together, man.

Trouble is, I’m not sure I can. My insides are a tightly coiled spring, quivering with nervous energy.

Maybe it’s because we’re no longer sworn enemies.

Or maybe because she’s on board with the speakeasy idea.

My life can return to its aforementioned routine now, but that life suddenly doesn’t hold the same appeal.

The thrill I’m getting from holding her hand—wait a damn minute. I’mstillholding her hand.

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