Kristian keeps my hand in his for a couple of seconds longer than polite, but when I flex my fingers, silently asking him to let me go, he releases it at once. Tension coils in my stomach at the way his bright, blue eyes trail over my face again. The stubble on his face makes him look older than he probably is, and I feel silly for being unable to tear my eyes away from his body.

It’s quite a sight.

Fidgeting with the clasp on my handbag, I try to suppress the urge to run a hand down my scar. I only do it when I’m nervous, and I’m definitely completely thrown at seeing him again.

Awkward silence settles between us, and I curse inwardly for being so inept at small talk. I paste a smile on my lips, hoping it comes off as genuine.

“Thank you again for buying Ailith the book.”

He nods. “It’s my pleasure. I hope she remembered her promise to me.”

Confused, I blink.

He winks at me. “About buying you an ice cream.”

“Oh!” Chuckling, I nod. “Yes, she did. Thank you. You really made her day.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

I step to his left as I take in the framed drawings displayed on the burgundy walls in the square room.

“So, Laura, what brings you here? A touch-up or new ink?”

I shrug as I glance back at him.

“I don’t have any tattoos yet,” I admit.

“Aaah, so you’re an ink virgin,” he grins, and I blush.

“I suppose I am.” I take a deep breath as I turn a half circle. Tribal arts, mythological creatures, quotes—they all stare back at me, causing me to feel a little overwhelmed.

“Do you have a particular design in mind?” Kristian asks, taking the lead. He grabs a notebook—or is it a sketch pad?—from the counter and flips it open.

I shake my head.

“No, not really, but I have thought about getting Ailith’s name inked on my wrist.” I raise my left arm to him before letting it fall down to my side. “It’s not very original, I know.”

Kristian frowns at me.

“Every tattoo is original—at least the ones I create—and I understand the sentiment behind having a loved one’s name permanently on your skin. So don’t be embarrassed.”

Feeling more at ease in his company, I tilt my head at him.

“Thanks.” I take a deep breath. “Coming here today was more of a whim, actually. My friend, Trish, told me once about your shop as she’s had some work done here in the past.”

He grins at me. “Always nice to be referred by a satisfied customer. Well, if you’d like to see some examples of lettering—fonts and such—I have a folder you can look through?”

“Great,” I smile, still a little unsure. “Is it like anything else in life?”

He gives me a questioning look.

“That I’ll know what I want when I see it?” I explain.

A warm look enters his eyes and my belly flips when he wets his lips.

Well, crap.

“Pretty much,” he answers, his voice a little rough.

Ignoring his flirting, I nod briskly. “Good.”

He takes a file from a black bookshelf under the counter and points to the other end of the shop.

“Why don’t you take a seat and look through these?”

I turn in the direction he’s pointing. There’s a small seating area in the back, and I look at the plush, black leather couches placed there. They look comfortable.

Taking the file from his hand, I nod.

“Perfect, thanks. I won’t get in your way.”

“Oh, I doubt I’d mind if you did.”

Double crap.

“Are you flirting with me?” I blurt out.

He grins, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Absolutely.”

I don’t have a flippant remark ready. Instead, I frown at his blatant honesty, and walk to the seating area. With my back to him, I sit down, mentally kicking myself for even asking him that.

I don’t want him to get the wrong idea about me. Once upon a time, I was quite good at the cat and mouse game played by men and women, but those days are gone. I don’t want a man in my life. I don’t want anyone.

Opening the folder, I give myself a good talking to. A small seed of regret seeps into my bones, chilling me to my core, but I can’t relent. Kristian may be a nice bloke—not to mention incredibly gorgeous—but I don’t want his attention. Not even if my lady bits seem to think otherwise.

* * *

Fuck me, those eyes.

Light grey, stormy eyes that seem young yet old at the same time. Eyes that flickered with a thousand different emotions when they met mine. The interest I saw when I admitted to flirting with her shut down immediately, and I could’ve bitten my tongue.

I try not to squirm in my seat as I keep stealing glances at Laura’s bent head from my seat at the counter. Pen in hand, I’m aimlessly drawing, all the while attempting to tamp down my rising need. As usual, my cock won’t listen. Why the hell does she intrigue me?

Frowning, I look down at the drawing in my hand when the door to Alex’s office opens, and he walks out. He shrugs on his leather jacket and leans towards the mirror. I shake my head at the way he fiddles with his bow-tie—blue today—and runs a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair.

That man is more worried about his looks than most women.

“I’m going to head out, get our food,” he says as he turns around. He raises his eyebrows at me. “Everything good?”

I nod and then tilt my head in Laura’s direction. “Yeah, just waiting for a possible client right now.”

He looks at her back and nods before he turns to the door.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Sure.”

The bell dings above the door as he leaves, and my eyes are drawn back to Laura.

Bloody hell, get a grip, man.

No sooner have the words entered my mind than she stands up, the file opened to a page, and as she walks closer towards me, I lean on the counter. I try to smile casually at her, but it’s hard when my whole body is screaming at me to fuck her senseless.

“Did you find one you like?” I ask her, keeping my voice low.

She purses her lips and nods.

“I think so, yes.” She places the file in front of me and I look down at the simple, understated font—American Typewriter.

Frowning, I raise my eyes to her.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” she confirms, her gaze not wavering from mine. I can’t help but admire that kind of determination.

“Most women pick a font that looks handwritten or cursive,” I start slowly. I want to make sure she’s certain of this, especially since this will be her first tattoo.

“Well, I’m not most women,” she states as she crosses her arms and juts her hip out. I smirk when she straightens up, because a woman her size puffing out her chest like that, telling me in no uncertain terms that she’s not swayed from her decision, is a little bit funny.

It’s also cute as hell.

Intrigued, I nod and try to ignore my now throbbing cock.

“I guess you’re not. Okay, let’s get you all set up. When would it suit you to come in and get your virgin skin inked?”

Hesitating, she takes out her phone. “I’m free at two p.m. next Thursday?”

I open my mouth to answer, but don’t get the chance to get a word in when her phone immediately starts to ring in her hand. She jumps a little and then smiles apologetically at me before she answers.

“Hello?”

Patiently, I wait, but when a small crease forms between her eyebrows, my shoulders tense up. Then I wonder why the fuck do I even care? It’s messed up.

“Hello?” she repeats, her voice a bit firmer and she looks down at her feet. Then she shakes her head a little and ends the call.

“Sorry,” she shrugs at me, “it must’ve been a wrong number.” She places her phone back in her handbag. “So, Thursday next week?”

I nod when I check our calendar, slightly annoyed that it’ll be another week before I see her again.

“No problem.”

“Thanks.”

I jot her name down, and then smile at her.

“I need your phone number as well, please.” When she narrows her eyes at me, I shrug. “In case something comes up and we have to reschedule.”

“Oh.” The suspicion disappears from her gaze immediately and she quickly rattles off the number for me. As I write it down, I wonder if I can say or do anything else that’ll prolong her stay, but I’m blank. A-fucking-gain.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in a week, then.” Itching to feel her skin on mine again, I reach out my hand. When she hesitates, I school my lips into a polite smile.

“Goodbye,” she murmurs as she takes my hand. Her grip is stronger this time, more confident.

I jerk my chin at her.

“Until then.”

I watch her retreating back as she leaves the shop. Then I lean my arms in front of me on the desk, wondering for the millionth time why she intrigues me so much.

Alex walks back inside and stops abruptly in the middle of the room, bags dangling from his hands.

“What’s wrong?” he asks me, a suspicious look in his eyes.

I shake my head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Then why do you look so serious?”

“I’m just hungry, man,” I mutter.

He walks towards me and glances to the back of the shop.

“Did you get a new client?”

I nod as I open the bag of food. My stomach growls like mad as I breathe in the spices that waft up at me.

“Yes. Just a regular job, though. No biggie.”

“Okay, well, let’s eat before your next client gets here.”

“Sure.”

We head back to his office, keeping the door open so not to miss any passers-by that might wander in from the street. As we eat, I try to push Laura, and her strange reactions to me, from my mind, and listen to Alex jabbering about his latest piece of arse instead. But it’s no use. Laura’s face is imprinted on my brain, making me feel more alive than I have in a while.

I sense there’s a lot more to her than meets the eye, and while I’m definitely not looking for anything permanent, I can’t deny that the mystery of her has me curious.