Page 35 of Devilish Ink

“Wait, how doesthatwork?”

He shrugged. “You could buy me the first drink if you really insist. But the rest would be on me. The gentleman in me couldn’t let you pay for drinks.”

“I’m sorry, I…”I’m so fucked up that I can’t. I’m not staying in Dublin so I can’t.“…shouldn’t.”

I wondered if he saw the sadness behind my eyes.

“You shouldn’t…” he repeated.

“I shouldn’t…” I said with a heavy heart.

“…’cause you’re with Rian,” he said slowly.

“Rian?” I said. “No, what? Rian? Ew, no.”

“You’renotwith Rian?”

“Fuck no!” I laughed.

I was so amused by the idea of being with my best friend that I didn’t even think to ask why he would so randomly assume that of two tattoo artists he’d never met before in his life.

“So there’s not another man?” he asked.

Ice flooded my veins.

“So thereisanother man then.”

“No,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “No, I mean…”

There was a man…but not like that.

He haunted my every nightmare. He followed me around the streets. He was the reason I gave up Dublin, why I feared being here.

He placed his hand over mine. “Go out with me, Ry.”

There was just warmth. Rough calluses, but soft touch. There was just a gentle squeeze.

I couldn’t remember the last time I yearned for a man to not let go.

“Sorry, I don’t date…” I said lamely, the closest to the truth as I’d let myself admit.

He raised an eyebrow. “Men?”

I’d experimented with women. When the loneliness got too much and I just needed the comfort of a warm body against mine.

But it felt like there was always something missing. I craved the roughness, the hardness of men. Even as I feared it.

“No, I date men—”

“Lucky me,” he said with a grin, “Iam a man.”

“I mean…” I fidgeted with the edge of my skirt. “I don’t date anyone.”

“No one?”

“No.”

“Ever?”

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