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Jack exhaled sharply and said, “Let’s get this over with,” his voice laced with an undercurrent of dread.
He stripped off his shirt, revealing the canvas of his taut skin, marred only by scars and bruises.
I couldn’t help but admire the way the dim light played across his muscled torso, shadow and light accentuating the lines of strength that defined him. But the uncertainty flickering in his gaze reminded me how uncomfortable he was with returning to the Jackals. He’d left this part of his past behind, and the darkness my boys had once been submerged in was beginning to come back to me in wisps of memory, of their split open knuckles as their hands caressed my skin, of learning to stitch them up again.
Of the dangers that had ultimately pulled us apart.
“Come here,” I murmured, gesturing for him to sit down in front of Greyson. As he settled onto the stool, I moved towards him. I brushed my thumbs across his jawline before sitting down on his lap. His arms instinctively circled around my waist, drawing me closer as if I were his anchor.
His eyes, deep and searching, met mine. “Go ahead, Greyson.” His voice was low and calm, and his gaze was all mine. He ignored Greyson and the buzz of the tattoo gun.
I pressed my mouth to his in a slow, deliberate kiss.
My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss as I let my tongue glide against his. I felt Greyson’s hot gaze as he leaned in with the tattoo gun.
Jack responded with fervent intensity, his hands roaming over my back, pulling me even tighter against him. The world narrowed down to the heat between us.
Jack’s breath hitched as the needle touched skin, but his lips never left mine. His grip on me tightened, and I arched into him, stoking the fire that threatened to consume us both.
“Done.” Greyson leaned back, crossing his arms. But when I met his gaze, Greyson just quirked an eyebrow at me. He rose and moved to the bar again, and I had the feeling he was even more amused than he was annoyed. Greyson enjoyed the little games between us.
Then once again, the clink of shot glasses echoed in the thick air. The burn of the whiskey chased away the lingering tension.
Sebastian was up next, and he cast a challenging glance at me as he settled onto the makeshift chair.
“Do I get a distraction too?” His voice was light, but the undercurrent of need wasn’t lost on me.
“Always,” I murmured, moving to sit in his lap, my hands finding the warmth of his bare shoulders. The room seemed to blur as I locked eyes with him, and the buzz of the tattoo gun started up again.
“You make anything bearable,” he breathed into my hair. His muscles tensed beneath my touch as Greyson began his work.
“Oh, it’s not that bad, is it?” Greyson asked. “Knowing you’re one of my men now…and that everyone can see that.”
I leaned into Sebastian, our connection a silent rebellion against the pain etched into his skin. I kissed along his jawline, tasting the salt of his skin, feeling the thrum of his pulse against my lips.
It wasn’t long before it was Carter’s turn, his expression a mix of bravado and barely concealed apprehension.
As the first line of ink marred his skin, he winced visibly, drawing a chuckle from Greyson.
“I forgot you were such a baby,” Greyson teased, his voice laced with mockery.
Carter’s lips parted, and I knew from the stubborn look on his face that whatever he intended to say next might plunge them into yet another argument. I gave Greyson a scolding look and put my hand over Carter’s lips, feeling the hard angle of his jaw and the stubble covering it.
“Let me help you get through this.” As I sank to my knees in front of him, I found myself enveloped by Greyson’s intense gaze, heavy with expectation and something darker that sent a thrill down my spine.
Making Greyson watch me as I distracted Carter was Greyson’s punishment. But memories were teasing at the back of my mind, making me think he had enjoyed it, once upon a time.
I met Carter’s eyes. My fingers traced the lines of his forearm, feeling the coiled strength beneath his skin.
“Focus on me, Carter,” I told him. “I’ll distract you. You’ll barely feel it.”
I stroked my hand over the hard length that pushed against his jeans.
Greyson’s stare never left me. “I'm going to tattoo you, too, one of these days, Kennedy,” he murmured, though he seemed to be trying to brand me with just his burning gaze.
I gave him a saucy smile. Carter watched me, his pupils dilating as if he were taking a hit of drugs, as my fingers stroked over him again.
I pushed my hair back over my shoulder to make sure Greyson could see every movement of my lips, my jaw.
