Page 32 of Devilish Ink

Once more Lee and I had the space to ourselves.

He smelled of engine grease and soap. For some reason it was the most wonderful scent in the world, even better than fancy cologne or aftershave.

He slipped off his baseball cap and ruffled his hair, scattering raindrops. “I wanted to come sooner but— I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

It seemed like he wanted to say more but I certainly wasn’t going to ask for an explanation.

“W-what would you like me to tattoo this time?” I asked.

“Whatever the compass points to,” Lee replied with a smile.

He shrugged out of his worn sherpa-lined jacket and our fingers brushed when I took it from him. That simple touch sent fire across my skin.

I hung it on one of the hooks, trying and failing to play it cool. He was standing way too close.

“It’s your compass,” I said.

His green eyes held mine. “It’s your true north.”

He stepped closer and took my hand.

My heart flipped over in my ribcage as he lifted my fingers, brushed his thumb over the gothic letters twisting along the back of my hand: h o p e.

He lifted his eyes to mine.

“I want more,” he said. Not softly this time. “I want you.”

“You want…me?”

He nodded, his eyes fixed on mine.

I could have pulled my hand back. I’d be in the right. He wasfar too fucking forward. It wasn’t appropriate. It was too much. I could have even told him to leave.

Pulled out my phone and booked a flight out of here. Been on a plane the day after tomorrow.

I could have saved myself.

“Whatever you want,” he said, his words heavy with meaning, “wherever you want, as long as it means something toyou.”

I sucked in a breath.

Free reign again. Holy shit.

“You’ll need to take your shirt off,” I said.

He grinned. “Admit it. You like when I strip for you.”

I swallowed hard, my throat too knotted to speak, as he unbuttoned his shirt one by one, then shrugged it off his shoulders, all the while he watched me, watching him, a smug knowing look on his face.

He hung his shirt on a hook and stepped in even closer. “Where do you want me?”

It was a dream. Lee’s broad back there again beneath my hungry fingertips. His skin like a blank canvas.

I made him lie face down again on the table.

“No cuffs this time?” he asked.

I flushed, remembering how stupid I’d acted the night we met. How could I have thought this man was a stalker?

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