“See for yourself.” She waited for him to heave his huge body out of her chair, then led him to the full-length mirror against the far wall. She swiped a hand mirror from the counter and held it up behind him, angling it so he had a clear view of his bare ass.
Lou whooped loudly when he saw her handiwork. Two words, done in intricate calligraphy and underlined with barbed wire, just like she’d sketched for him the day before.
Thanks to Brett, the man’s chubby, slightly hairy butt officially boasted two words: FUCK YOU.
Yep. The joy of being a tattoo artist. Some of the custom designs Brett had created over the years still boggled her mind, but she’d accepted that the tattoo business was a crazy one. People wanted what they wanted, and she gave it to them without question, judgment, or teasing. If a dude wanted to get the words fuck you inked on his ass cheek, who was she to deny him?
Still, she much preferred the clients who showed up with a general idea and then gave her permission to let her creativity soar. Most of the time, they were thrilled by the final design and didn’t request a single change. Other times, she had to redraw it dozens of times before the client found what they’d been looking for.
Lou, however, was easy to please. All of his tattoos were various lines of text, and he always tipped handsomely, which she appreciated.
“That’ll teach Cindy to tell me I have a fat ass,” he crowed. “Now I won’t even have to answer her. She’ll know exactly what I think of her bullshit criticism when she sees this.” Lou slapped his ink-free butt cheek before striding off to get his pants.
“Hey, no, you don’t,” Brett chided when he tried to get dressed. “You know the drill. Lay back down.”
“Aw, come on, I don’t need the bandage.”
“House rules, bud. We don’t let anyone leave without it.”
She’d barely finished her sentence when the bell rang in the main room. Crap. Lou was her last client of the night, and it was already five past nine. Since AJ didn’t work Mondays, they’d agreed to meet at her place at nine thirty, and she was dying to finish work so she could see him.
Without leaving her station, she gave a hasty shout toward the curtain. “I’ll be right with you.”
Rob had already left for the night, and though normally she felt comfortable closing up shop alone, her shoulders stiffened when she heard footsteps approaching the curtain.
It opened a slit, and her body relaxed when she found herself staring into a pair of familiar green eyes “Hey. It’s me,” AJ said softly. “Just didn’t want you to think it was a client. I’ll wait out here.”
He quickly disappeared, but his presence had already sent her pulse galloping. She wasn’t sure why he’d come, but she definitely wasn’t complaining. If anything, she was even more eager to get rid of Lou now.
She carefully attached the bandage to the man’s backside and waited for him to stand up so she could shoot him a stern glare. “Keep it covered for three hours, make sure you use the ointment I gave you last time, and try not to sit down for the first couple days.”
“I work in a toll booth, Tinkerbell. How the hell do you expect me not to sit down?”
Tinkerbell. It seemed like every client had their own nickname for her, most of which had to do with her size. She liked AJ’s nickname the best, though. Angel. Lord, just thinking about the way he drawled out the word made her tremble.
“Just keep off it when you can,” she said with a sigh. “Give it time to heal.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lou slipped into his pants, then reached for his wallet. He’d already paid her upfront for his tattoo, but now he pressed another wad of bills into her hand. “For you,” he said gruffly.
“Aw, thanks, Lou.”
He ruffled her hair and pulled her in for a bear hug, but there was nothing sexual about the embrace. Lou was well into his forties and treated her like a daughter. And she loved him to pieces. Clients as easygoing as him were hard to come by.
“Pop in next week so we can touch up your arm,” she told him as they stepped into the main room.
“Will do.” With a big grin and a nod in AJ’s direction, Lou left the shop.
The second the door closed behind him, Brett flicked the padlock and shut off the neon open sign. She smiled as she turned back to AJ, but the joy and humor faded when she noticed the expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?” she demanded.
Without a word, he stalked over and yanked her toward him for a rough kiss. The tension seemed to seep from his shoulders the moment their lips touched, but when his tongue stole into her mouth with greedy precision, she could taste his need and desperation. Feel the urgency of his body as he pressed it against hers and rotated his hips.
When they broke apart, she was breathless. “Seriously, what’s gotten into you?”
“I had a crappy evening,” he admitted.
“Aw, that sucks. What happened?”
“Nothing worth talking about.” AJ cocked his head. “In fact, I don’t feel like talking about anything at all right now. I want you naked.”
Brett tried to hide her frustration as he deflected the question by using sex. She was starting to suspect that AJ Walsh harbored a lot of secrets.
And of course, since she couldn’t ever spend time with a man without becoming consumed by him, his mysterious nature only made her more desperate to figure him out.
But no. She couldn’t fall into that trap again. Her arrangement with AJ worked because it was temporary. As long as she kept viewing him as nothing but a fun sexual partner, she wasn’t in danger of losing focus of what mattered.
So rather than force him to tell her what was wrong, she opted to concentrate on what was right.
“If you want me naked, then take me home,” she said boldly.
“What if I want to take you right here?”
Brett’s uneasy gaze drifted to the front window. It was slightly tinted, but not enough to shield them from view of the street if they did the nasty in the main room. Besides, having sex in her family’s tattoo parlor was wrong on so many other levels.
When AJ caught sight of where her gaze had traveled, he pursed his lips and said, “Not here then.” He took her hand and coaxed her to the back corridor, guiding her behind the thick red curtain that blocked off her workspace.
AJ’s mouth curved when he spotted the padded chair in the center of the room.
“Oh yeah, this will work.” His voice was low, rippling with desire.
Brett ignored the tight clenching of her thighs. “I’m not going to have sex with you in my place of business,” she said primly.
“No? So you’re backing out of your end of our agreement?” His expression flickered with challenge.
“How was sex in my shop ever part of the agreement?” she protested.
“I play the part of doting, respectable boyfriend, and in return, you show me a wild time, remember?” He pointed to the tattoo chair. “And that, is a wild time.”
The image of AJ fucking her right there on the chair flashed to the foreground of her mind, and her entire body shuddered in response.
He chuckled. “Sounds fun, doesn’t it?”
God, it did. But…
She hesitated again.
“You locked up for the night, right?”
She nodded.
“And do your brothers or dad usually drop in after hours?”
She slowly shook her head. They never did. Once the shop was closed, they were done for the night.
“Then I don’t see a problem.”
AJ’s hands lowered to his waistband, and her traitorous gaze was drawn to his every movement like a magnet. He slid the belt from its buckle. Undid the button of his trousers. Inched the zipper down.
“C’mon, angel, give me a taste of the wild girl you used to be. I promise you can lock her up again after tonight…” He parted the top of his pants. “At least until the next time I want her to come out.”
He was evil. Pure
temptation. Sin incarnate.
Brett hadn’t been able to say no to him that first night at the club, and evidently that’s how it would always be.
“I want to see your cock,” she ordered.
A grin lifted his lips. “Good. Because he’s dying to see you.”
The moment he released his erection, Brett’s mouth went dry with anticipation. God, maybe he was right. Maybe it was healthy to let her inner bad girl out every now and then. What was the harm in throwing caution to the wind and being bad again? The shop was closed. Nobody was around.
So why the hell not?
“What do you say we up the stakes?” she said devilishly.
“I thought the only stakes were the ones that involve my cock inside you.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” When he wiggled his eyebrows, she quickly corrected herself. “Fine, that part is fun, too. But wild? I don’t know. And dangerous? Definitely not.”
“Huh. So now you’re interested in injecting some danger into our sex life?” He sounded amused…and ridiculously intrigued. “How?”
“I propose a wager.” She stepped forward and gave his erection an impish squeeze.
He groaned. “What kind of wager?”
“Well…first, you’re going to sit your sexy ass down in my chair…”
“Sounds good so far.” He thrust into her waiting palm. “Then what?”
“I’m going to climb on top of you.”
“Even better…and then?”
“I’m going to screw your brains out.”
AJ’s cock thickened in her hand, a drop of moisture leaking onto her thumb. “I…” He shivered when she stroked him again. “…really don’t see where the wager comes in.”
“Oh, didn’t I mention?” She smiled broadly. “The first one to come loses.”
A laugh rumbled out of his chest. “That sounds more like winning to me.”
“You’d think so, huh?” She released him and reached for her zipper. “But I haven’t told you the stakes yet.”
“Fine. I’ll bite. What happens if I ‘lose’?” He used air quotes around the last word, his lips twitching as if he were fighting another laugh.
“I get to tattoo you.” Brett wiggled out of her pants and underwear and kicked them away.
AJ’s sultry gaze promptly zeroed in on her lower body. His features grew taut with passion for a moment, before his head snapped up as if he’d just realized what she’d said. “Wait, what?”
“I get to tattoo you,” she repeated. “You can choose the design and body part, but it’s my needle that does it.”
“And if you come first?” he countered.
She shrugged. “Then I get another tattoo.”
“You already have a million of them. How is that fair?”
He had a point. She mulled it over, then offered a decisive nod. “Fine, if I lose, I get more ink, but you get to choose what and where.”
Now she had his attention. For half a second, at least, before suspicion once more clouded his face. “No way. I don’t take any wagers unless it’s an even playing field.”
“How is it not?” she demanded.
“Because you’re a woman! I could shoot my load just from being near you, but chicks don’t come at the drop of a hat. You need foreplay and kissing and all that fun stuff. If you sit on my dick without any lead up, you could probably delay your orgasm for hours.” He crossed his arms. “No deal.”
Argh. AJ and his stupidly valid points.
Brett pondered the dilemma until she found another solution. “You get a handicap then. Ten minutes of oral sex.”
“Ha. I won’t last ten seconds if you put your mouth on my—”
“For me,” she clarified. “Ten minutes of oral sex for me.”
That shut him up, bringing the thoughtful glint back to his eyes.
“Think about it,” she said in her most tempting tone. “You’ll have ten whole minutes to tease me and torture me and get me close. And we both know how good you are at doing that.”
A sigh escaped as she realized she’d effectively stacked the odds against her. AJ knew it too as he splayed his palm on her belly and slowly dragged it over her mound. His eyes twinkled when he felt the evidence of her arousal.
Brett ignored the ripples of pleasure that danced through her. “So? Deal or no deal?” she challenged.
He chuckled. “Deal. Definitely deal.”
She moaned when he slipped one finger inside her.
“I can’t wait to pick your new tat, baby.” He ground the heel of his hand over her clit. “How do you feel about portraits? More specifically—a portrait of me giving two thumbs up?” He tickled the top of her mound. “Right here.”
His cockiness only fueled Brett’s competitive spirit. Arching one brow, she cupped his blond head with both hands and pushed him down to his knees. “Bring it, baby. Bring it.”
Chapter Ten
“He’s good for you.”
Brett looked up from her sketchpad to find her brother’s face peering down at her. She hadn’t even heard him approach, and yet there he was, tattooed forearms resting on the counter as he eyed her in amusement.
“Who’s good for me?” she said absently, her pencil still moving over the pad.
“AJ. Duh.”
She hoped her brother didn’t notice the way her shoulders had stiffened in discomfort. “Is he?”
“Absolutely. We all love him, by the way. Dude fits right in.”
Brett couldn’t even contradict him. AJ did fit right in. It had been more than a week since she’d introduced him to her family, and he’d already hung out with them several times since the barbecue. The night before, she and AJ had gone out for drinks with her brothers, which had turned a tad chaotic when Jordan and his on-again/off-again girlfriend Jessica had gotten into a screaming match.
Brett hated the woman, and to this day, she still had no clue what her brother saw in such a high-maintenance, manipulative bi-otch. But she’d been impressed by AJ’s composure during the fight. He hadn’t cut and run like she’d expected, and once the squabbling couple had left the pub, she and AJ ended up having a great time with Rob and Mike, whose shrilly impressions of Jessica were spot-on.
“Seriously, every time I see you, you’ve got a big goofy smile on your face. I’d totally bust your balls about it if it weren’t so frickin’ cute.” Rob was positively beaming at her. “My little sister is in love. I’m so proud.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not in love. AJ and I are just casual.”
Rob didn’t look convinced. “If you say so.” He shrugged. “Either way, it’s nice to see you happy for a change. I’m glad you kicked that fucker Troy to the curb.”
“Don’t remind me.” Her chest tightened at the mention of her ex. “God. I can’t believe he turned out to be such a jerk.”
“Forget about him. You’re with a guy that makes you happy now, and that’s all the matters.”
Brett faltered as the words sank in. She supposed she was happy. What she and AJ had might be casual, but she was perfectly content with that.
Though she had been making an effort to keep a slight distance from him. Not reveal too much, not push him too hard. She and relationships were like a bottle of alcohol and a loaded gun—not a great combo. When she was in love, she forgot about the rest of the world, so eager to please her partner that they ended up walking all over her.
Fortunately, she and AJ had fallen into a routine she could live with. He came over to her place, they had sex, hung out. Sure, they’d been making a point to see her family so Brett could push her responsibility agenda, but there were no heart-to-hearts, no promises, no longing glances.
And she didn’t mind at all.
Liar. You mind.
Nope, she wasn’t listening to the yearning voice in her head. She and AJ had a good thing going. She didn’t want a relationship. He didn’t want a relationship.
Win win.
And an extra win for the explosive sex.
/>
“So did he pick a design yet?”
Of course, Rob just had to remind her of the one thing she wasn’t winning at.
Brett scowled at her brother. “No, he hasn’t. And don’t you dare remind me of it.”
Rob chortled. “I still can’t believe you thought it was a good idea to bet on a chess match. You suck at chess.”
Yeah, and apparently she sucked at not orgasming, too. But her family didn’t know about that. Last night, when AJ had nonchalantly revealed that she’d lost a bet and thus given him the power to choose her next tattoo, Brett had scrambled to think of a plausible, nonsexual bet they could have made. Chess was the first thing that came to mind, and now she was kicking herself for coming up with such a harebrained lie.
Damn AJ and his magic cock. She couldn’t even look at her tattoo chair anymore without remembering how quickly she’d come in his lap last week.
“I spoke to Dad, by the way.”
Rob’s offhand comment purged all the dirty thoughts from her head. “About what?” She didn’t bother masking her excitement.
“You know, about how good you’re doing, what a great help you’ve been around the shop, how smart and wonderful and brilliant you are, yada, yada, yada.”
“Did he say anything about the new Conlon Ink location?” She held her breath as she awaited his reply.
“Nothing official,” Rob admitted. “But if it helps, I was over at the house when Dad got a phone call from that artist he was talking to. The guy who works at Razor’s?”
Brett bristled with displeasure. She’d known her dad was interviewing potential candidates to run the north end parlor, but hearing Rob confirm it ticked her off. The ideal candidate was staring them all in the face, damn it.
Her.
“He canceled the interview,” Rob said lightly.
Her breath came out in an abrupt whoosh. “Really?”
“Yup. Mind you, he hasn’t said one way or the other if he’s going to give you a shot, but this is a good sign, right?”
No, it was a fabulous sign.
Brett dove off the chair and threw her arms around her brother. “Oh my God. I don’t believe it. He’s totally going to let me manage the shop!”
“Possibly.” Rob’s voice went gentle. “But don’t put the cart before the horse just yet.” He hesitated. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”