Page 15 of Rookie Mistake

“And who says I’m not a commitment kind of guy?” he hedges. “I might be anonlycommitment kind of guy.”

I laugh as we come to a stop in front of the entrance, a heavy black door painted in theme withAlice in Wonderland’s Mad Hatter. The zany and dramatic cartoon features are painted with striking accuracy.

“Sorry, Loverboy, but I’m calling bullshit. I was there tonight, remember? I saw all of those girls ready to jump on you the second they secured their prize.”

He nods at the same time his shoulder dips, stepping forward until I collide with the door behind me. “Maybe so, but it was over the second a pretty little thing in combat boots caught my eye. You know what I thought the moment I saw you?” His palm flattens on the door behind me, caging me in as his free hand lifts to the neckline of my dress, where it curves loosely around my small cleavage. His fingertips score along my heated skin, creating a symphony inside my rib cage. “I thought about how perfect you’d look on your knees, those red fucking lips stretched around my cock, taking me down your throat.”

Oh god.

Heat pools in the place in my belly that has my core tightening, my clit throbbing with fierce desperation.

“I wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I saw no one else. Onlyyou, Trouble,” he murmurs against my parted lips, still holding my gaze with an intensity that has my toes curling in the boots he seems to love so much. “Now, you wanna go in here and get a tattoo? Let’s fucking go. But I need something before we do.”

“What?”

My voice sounds as breathless as I feel, and the corner of his lip curves up.

“I need to kiss you because I’ve been fucking dying to since we left that bar, and I’ll be a real good boy if I can taste those lips again before I give up my virginity to a stranger.”

I can’t help but toss my head back and laugh because, god, it’s so fucking ridiculous, but it’s also him, and I want that too.

“Are you asking for permission?”

His gaze darkens. “Do I need it?”

Every second of this banter between is driving me insane with need. I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on in my life.

“No,” I whisper against his mouth, brushing my lips against his slightly as I lift onto my tiptoes and curve my arms around his neck. As if already a habit, my fingers tangle into the long hair at his nape, my fingernails lightly scraping along his scalp.

“So much fucking trouble” is all he says before he’s kissing me, taking my mouth so possessively that a shiver dances down my spine. It’s not only a kiss; it’s an act of war, a proclamation of ownership that’s like a brand along my lips. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and he swallows every whimper, every stuttering exhale.

And then I feel his teeth grazing my lips as he pulls back and nibbles on them, sending a delicious shiver down my spine and goose bumps scattering along my flesh.

“You have no idea how badly I want to take you home, take you anywhere, and finish what we started, Zara. But if we do that, then we’re not making it to this appointment.” He drops his forehead against mine. “Tell me let’s go inside and get these tattoos.”

“I… Yes. Come on.” I slip my fingers into his and turn to the door.

He’s a perfect gentleman and holds it open for me, letting me step inside before he does. The door shuts behind him, and we look around the shop together.

Even though it’s nearly three in the morning, Wonderland is still alive and full of people.

And honestly, I’d be more surprised if it wasn’t. Of all the tattoo parlors in New Orleans, it’s the best, no question.

Not only are their artists the most talented in the city, but the vibes and energy are unmatched.

Gracie, my artist and one of my favorite people, is the only person I’ll ever let tattoo me. She’s amazing, and I don’t trust anyone else to put something permanent on my skin.

The parlor is spacious, an eclectic mix of dark blues, purples, and black, adorned with a gothic, dark version ofAlice in Wonderlandtold in murals on the wall. There’s a shelf above the deep blue velvet couches with various statues of characters from the original movie.

“This place is fucking sick. You always come here to get your stuff done?” Davis asks as we stand side by side in the foyer, admiring the portraits along the walls.

I had no clue if he’d be down for this, but I texted Gracie as soon as we left the bar and asked her to squeeze us in for something super small and that I would owe her for life.

Thankfully, she loves me because she gave us her last slot.

I nod. “The girl who does my tattoos, Gracie, she’s the artist on most of these. She owns the parlor with her twin brother, Grayson. I got my first tattoo with her and every one since. It’s only been a few months, but she’s stuck with me for life,” I say as I reach up and drag my finger along a black-and-white portrait of a Roman statue. It’s one of my favorite pieces she’s ever done, and I always tell myself that I’m going to have her do something similar for my thigh piece that I’ll eventually get.

“My favorite mural is this one.”

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