Page 40 of Desperate Desires

The intricate designs were all done in rich, black ink.

Stark and unforgiving.

No soft pastels or vibrant hues to soften the impact. Just black.

Like shadow etched into skin.

It was as though someone had pulled him straight out of one of those old gangster films.

Angels With Dirty Faces or something like that.

He was more dangerous than Cagney, though.

A modern hood who was one part gentleman and one part storm waiting to break.

My heart stuttered.

Those crazy blue irises continued to stare. Their color was unearthly and damn near hypnotic.

Finally, I remembered myself. I was aware of our surroundings.

The old factory was decrepit, and it stank.

Nothing was up to code.

Nothing was pretty or enticing.

No pomp and flash there. Just loud music and too many people.

“Why are you here, Doc?”

“What? Why do you care?”

“Because you don’t belong here.”

“Don’t tell me where I belong. You don’t know me.”

He was really starting to piss me off.

No, I wasn’t going to tell him I was just leaving. He didn’t deserve that, running out without a word after sleeping with me.

And I sure as fuck wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing I agreed with him, that no, I didn’t belong there.

I felt a little too old and out of touch in that space. I wasn’t enjoying the music or the atmosphere.

But I was only there to enjoy the last of my days off, since he’d monopolized most of them with his intrusion into my life before he did his disappearing act.

I mean, he just left.

Vanished into thin air.

And I was still reeling from that hasty exit.

Did this prick ask me if I missed him?

Ignoring the jolt I felt inside my gut, I rolled my eyes as I pushed past the big man to wash my hands.

“I know you, Doc. Say I don’t,” he growled.

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