Page 26 of Inked Adonis

Myles merely folds his arms across his chest and sighs. Most men are put off by my anger when I let it out of its cage. Myles Hagerty is my best friend because he couldn’t possibly care less.

Usually, that’s a good thing.

Today, it’s highly annoying.

“Those other women may have been ‘vapid and uninteresting,’” he says quietly, “but they understood the game. They signed NDAs without batting their fake lashes before you took them anywhere. Is she ready for that?”

“That’s exactly my point—I don’t plan on taking Nova anywhere. She’s not arm candy. She’s not some trophy girlfriend. She’s a distraction, nothing more.”

But even as I say those words, I remember how she arched beneath me, how she mewled, how she moaned, how she melted. She came for me practically on command.

Fucking hell, I want to hear those sounds come out of her lips again.

Myles harrumphs, and I blink out of my thoughts to find him watching me with flattened lips, as if he can sense what I’m only now realizing.

When it comes to Nova Pierce, I haven’t yet had my fill.

9

NOVA

I’ve been waiting on this bronze bench long enough for my ass to fossilize.

Lincoln Park is alive with the kind of people who have time to stroll around at 10 AM on a Tuesday: nannies with thousand-dollar strollers, retired couples in matching athleisure, and way too many joggers showing off bodies that clearly came with personal trainer price tags.

But none of them are the person I’m here to meet.

I check my phone for the millionth time.

NOVA: she’s late.

HOPE: who, me? did we have plans?

NOVA: no, not you, dingbat. Ms. Alekseeva. I’ve been here 45 min. do i bail?

Hope’s response is immediate, like she’s been hovering over her phone waiting for me to crack.

HOPE: DON’T YOU DARE. this woman has connections that could make or break us.

NOVA: so i just sit here like an idiot?

HOPE: like a *professional* idiot. and nova? don’t do that thing you do.

NOVA: what thing?

HOPE: that thing where you get all judgy about rich people who treat their pets like accessories.

NOVA: i would never

HOPE: you literally did it yesterday. twice.

I stuff my phone in my bag before I can argue further. Hope knows me too well. But in my defense, who spends eight grand on a Great Dane and then hires someone else to walk it? Psychopaths, that’s who.

Right on cue, a familiar bark thunders across the park.

Rufus comes bounding toward me, one hundred and thirty pounds of pure chaos, completely off-leash. Which means his owner must be close behind.

Before I can identify the psychopath in question, though, Rufus slams into my legs like a furry freight train, nearly taking me out at the knees. His tail whips back and forth like a baseball bat.

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