I pulled the covers up to my chin. I reached for my phone. I read the response and cringed. I did a quick online search to see if there was a way I could delete a text message. Maddox hadn’t responded, so maybe he hadn’t read what I wrote to him.

Why? Why did you write that? Why did you do that? Were you trying to flirt with him? Trying to outdo his feelings? For what? So you could compare who was secretly worse off and then…what? Sleep together?

There was no deleting the text message. There was nothing I could do about it.

It struck me that he was still obsessed about that picture, though.

Why did it mean so much to him?

I shivered under the covers.

I knew I’d have to face Maddox tomorrow about what I texted him. And I wanted to know what he meant by stepping into his world.

My eyes drifted off to sleep.

I woke the next morning to my alarm blaring through the small speakers on my phone. I quickly checked the text messages and realized I hadn’t been dreaming. Then it occurred me that I never gave Maddox my phone number. So that meant he’d gone looking for it.

The thoughts raced through my mind the entire morning as I had breakfast and got ready to head into St. Skin. I made sure I had my batteries charged, my lenses, everything else I needed.

Then I went to the shop.

I parked out front. Across the street.

I stood there and admired the actual front of the tattoo shop. I had seen it many times, obviously, and I had photographed it, but from the vantage point I was at, it was different. I had a vision right then of creating a picture for Tate. I’d take a picture of the shop and add in a building attached to each side that was beat up and run down. So you’d have these dilapidated connecting buildings with the tattoo shop in the middle. Filled with its neon lights and the awesome vibe of the ink, the music, the stories, and everyone inside.

I stood at my car, on the sidewalk, and balanced the camera on the roof of my car. Anyone looking at me probably figured I was a private investigator or something, snapping pictures from across the street.

But the shot was too good to pass up.

Nobody was parked out front of St. Skin.

I had to get it.

I got the entire shop in focus. Through the front window there were people at the counter, people sitting on the leather couch, looking at tattoos. And right as I was about to take the picture, I saw Maddox and Tate.

I took a handful of pictures.

The vision in my head was burning strong, and I wanted it to be the best picture for Tate. My way of saying thank you to him for giving me the job. Maybe even thanking him for giving me the distraction of Maddox. Even though Maddox was maybe too much of a distraction with no payoff.

I left my camera around my neck and entered St. Skin.

Maddox looked right at me.

Tate slapped him on the shoulder. “Glad you stayed out of jail last night.”

Well, that got even more of my attention. I lifted the camera.

“Don’t,” he said.

He turned and walked away.

I went after him. “Jail? You almost got put into jail? Why?”

Maddox stopped, but he didn’t look back. “It has nothing to do with your pictures.”

“What about that text?”

I saw Maddox ball up his fists.

Panic started to bubble from deep in my gut.

I fought it off.

No. Please. Not right now. No.

Maddox looked over his shoulder. “Forget about that. I don’t give a shit what you do with that picture.”

Maddox took two steps. “Liar. You’re a liar, Maddox. You care.”

“What do we have here?” Prick asked as he emerged from his room with a woman. He winked at Maddox. He winked at me. “Is he causing trouble again?”

Prick laughed and walked the woman to the front of the shop.

That’s when Maddox turned. “Forget I sent it.”

“How did you get my number?”

“Mind your own business, sugar. It’s not private information.”

“You looked me up? Why?”

I was feeling that warm, bubbly feeling again.

“I said, forget it.”

Maddox turned and went into his room.

I ran after him. I managed to get to the door right before it clicked shut. I was then in his room, shutting the door behind me. My heart was racing. He stood like he was a giant, his shoulders puffed up and wide. I was pushing buttons that maybe I shouldn’t have been pushing.

“I won’t forget it. I can’t just forget it, Maddox.”

I heard him growl.

Then he turned.

He came at me like he did before.

Except this time I didn’t freeze up. I didn’t panic. I swallowed all that down. What Maddox realized was that by not freaking out right then, it was the ultimate sign of trust. And that scared me. Because I had no idea why I trusted him.

His hands hit the wall on either side of my head.

I jumped, but I didn’t run.

“You’re here for St. Skin, sugar. Not for me. I didn’t hire you. I’m not paying you. You don’t get to dig into my past.”

“You texted me,” I whispered.

“You took a piece of my private life,” he said. “What if I did that to you?”

“You already did,” I said. “You just don’t know it yet, Maddox.”

“What does that mean?”

I shook my head.

Then to my shock, Maddox repeated my reply to his text. Word for word. Without so much as blinking his eyes.

“There’s nothing you could make me step into that isn’t already as dark as where I am now…” Then he paused. “So, tell me what that means, sugar.”

“Nothing,” I said. “Forget it.”

Maddox grinned. “You really are something else, Hazel.”

“You said my name. I don’t think you’ve ever said my name.”

He curled his lip. “Don’t get used to it. You’ll be done here soon enough.”

Maddox pushed off the wall and I caught myself grabbing at his shirt again. A handful, pulling, keeping him close.

Why did it feel so good when he was close?

That lingering smell of man. Whatever soap he used on his tough skin. Whatever he washed his clothes in. The smell of his body, sweat, musk, lingering smoke, everything somehow mixing together to make something so unique that it made my nose twitch…along with everything else from head to toe.

“Look,” I whispered.

I turned the camera on and turned it to face him.

I showed him the pictures. The one of his hand on the lens. Then the next picture…which should have been the picture floating in the air. That one was gone. Like Maddox had asked me to get done.

“You deleted it,” he whispered.

“Yeah.”

“You listened to me. Why?”

“Because I don’t want to lose your trust,” I admitted. “And I don’t know why.”

“Trust. The camera gives you trust, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“You look at the world through that camera because you don’t want to look at it through your own eyes.”

I shuddered. He was reading me. He was spot on. It was scary.

“Maddox…”

He got closer to me. Bending his knees, bringing his eyes level with mine. Inching closer, closer than any man had been in such a long time. I felt my lips quiver, almost teetering on the verge of desperation. Wanting him to kiss me.

“Why? What’s your darkness, sugar? Put the camera down. Just be here.”

I shook my head. “I can’t do that. I have to go. I have to work.”

Maddox inched even closer. I felt the tip of his nose touch mine.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…

The word faded. It then became something else.

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me…

Maddox lifted his nose, sliding it against mine, and then backed away. He once again touched my wrist, much gentler than he had in the coffee shop, and took my hand off his shirt.

He then touched the camera, lifting it. He shook his head.

“For the record, sugar, I think your eyes are prettier than this fucking lens.”

Maddox then left the room.

I put my head back, letting out a breath I had been holding for what felt like days. I put my hands flat to the wall. I hated to admit it to myself, but Maddox had gotten me so hot that I was…sort of almost there…

Then I smiled.

I wanted his trust.

I wanted him.

Even just once.

I figured it was going to be an amazing day.

And it was.

The problem?

Hell was waiting for me that night.