Page 117 of Wild Card
Fox chuckled, a low and sexy rumble. “Yeah, I see that.”
“We almost done?”
“Mm-hmm. Is your guy nearby?”
“My guy?”
“The deputy.”
Oh. Right. Emory had told him I was with Dalton, and even if he hadn’t, my conversation with Jett would have given it away.
“He’s notmyguy,” I protested, though it sounded weak even to me. “I don’t own him.”
“Ah, well…” Fox placed a hand on my thigh and leaned in close, murmuring into my ear. “Your dick’s so hard. Thought you might want some relief.”
My eyes cut to him. “You offering?”
He leaned back, lips curling, as he returned his focus to his work, filling in a few last details. The red stubble on his jaw glinted in the light. “Maybe.”
“What happened to your guy?” I asked.
“Didn’t work out.” He glanced at me. “Should have taken you up on your offer when you made it. Been kicking myself.”
This was normally where I’d flash him a grin and invite him to sample the dick he was eyeing up. Hell, Jett had the same as told me to get rid of Dalton and fuck someone else.
“Nah,” I said. “You were loyal. Don’t ever regret that.”
“Well, I don’t owe anyone loyalty now.” Fox lifted the gun, flashing me a killer grin. “Just say the word.”
I swallowed, my mouth dry. My cock was hard and throbbing in my jeans. I couldn’t seem to push any words past the lump in my throat.
Fox cleaned the tat, which was seeping blood, and then applied a clear film bandage. “Do I need to give you the aftercare instructions?”
“I know what I’m doing.”
He nodded and pulled off his gloves. “All right. We’re finished.” He put his hand on my bare abs, just above my waistband, his wrist brushing my hard-on. “Unless we’re not?”
I flinched away, pain flaring, and rolled off the table. My reaction had been instinctive. I just kept hearing Dalton’s growl in my ear,Tell me I’m the only one.His stern words this morning.We’re more than fucking.His smile when he left after breakfast today.Miss me already, huh?
Jett’s belligerent words were circling my head too, but I batted them away like mosquitoes. Nobody told me who to fuck or not fuck. Nobody but Dalton, anyway.
Tell me I’m the only one.
“Sorry,” Fox said, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to…”
“No worries. Can I get my shirt?”
Emory drifted out, eyes shifting to my bandaged side. He’d been in and out during the tattoo phase, observing a lot of the work. He was still a little squeamish about watching people in pain. He’d have to get over that.
“Wow, it looks fantastic. Fox did anamazingjob.”
I craned my head to look down at Fox’s handiwork. Emory’s too. It looked totally badass, exactly the vibe I wanted. Even though Emory had designed it, Fox had a certain flair that stood out in the ink.
“It’s perfect,” I said, glancing up to catch Fox’s gaze as he held out my shirt. “Thank you.”
“Hey, Emory!” Angel called. “Do you mind checking out my client?”
“Sure thing,” he said, flitting away to the front of the shop.
