Page 9 of Edged

A roar from outside distracted her. It got louder and louder until it rumbled to a stop.

“Jesus, is someone parking their bike at reception?” she murmured.

“That would be a first,” Max mumbled from between her legs.

The door at the front of the studio jingled, and muffled voices floated to her. One of them was deep and rough, spiking something to life deep in her belly.

When she heard the heavy steps on the floor, with a slight jingling of something metal, she literally had to bite her lip to keep a yummy moan inside.

Whatever stranger was about to walk past Max’s station, it lit her up like nothing had in the last few months. Maybe because it rolled up in a motorcycle and chimed like a modern day High Plains Drifter.

No. Whoever was about to walk past her was taboo. She’d told herself she was done with bad boys after Luke.

But without thinking, she adjusted her blouse, making sure it showed the perfect amount of cleavage, and wished she was within reach of her lip gloss.

Heavy boots thudded as they followed Rose to Jace’s station, which faced Max’s. Pony walls between the stations gave a sense of privacy when you were seated. But when Mr. Tall, Tattooed, and Bearded walked past her with a shit-ton of swagger, she felt almost naked.

Deliciously naked.

Oh Lord,thiswas what she’d been looking for all day. No wonder none of her safe, scrawny accountants or overweight business men were doing it for her.

Muscled arms hung out of a leather vest, and a silver chain dangled between a wallet in his back pocket and a loop on his front hip. The short hair and long dark beard made her want to squeal.

“Hey!” Max warned again, lifting his gun and giving her an impatient look. “Can you please hold your shit together?”

“Sorry,” she said. “Sorry,” she said again when her thighs kept trying to squeeze together.

Mr. Biker dropped into the chair facing her, tucking something Rose handed him into his vest. Only Max’s body and the wall were between them.

She raised a haughty eyebrow, and he grinned. Then he winked at her.

“Nice tattoos,” he said in that tone that sounded like pure testosterone roaring. God, deep voices did it for her.

“How could you even see it?” she asked, looking down her nose at him.

It made him grin even more. “I saw where it was. You could tattoo a pile of dog shit, and it would end up being a nice tattoo.”

She smirked. “Even though you’d have to look at it all the time? Close up?” she teased, raising her eyebrow again.

His eyes glinted, and he gave her a barely perceptible nod. “Even then,” he agreed, the words so close to a growl she had to use all her strength not to let her legs tremble.

Jace strolled out of the back room and held his hand out to the man. “I’m Jace.”

“Nice to meet you, Jace. I’m Mitchell,” he said, his eyes not breaking the intent lock he had on hers.

“So, you said something a five minute job?” Jace asked, pulling over a rolling stool.

Five minutes?she thought with a frown.

“Yeah, here. A line across these hash four marks,” Mitchell said, and she felt bad for Max. This stranger was making her panties wet, and the humidity was probably going to suffocate him.

“Got it,” Jace said. “Looks like you’re keeping a tally of something.”

“Jobs,” Mitchell said.

“Max, could you finish up for now?” she murmured, her foot twitching. “I’ll pay you in full, then again when I come back.”

“I never say no to easy money,” he agreed.

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