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"Oh."
"You can't touch fresh ink. Not with bare hands. Not like that."
"Of course." I know the drill. I have a dozen tattoos. I… I'm better than letting my libido take over.
But, God, it's been so long since my body responded to anyone.
It hates me. This is more evidence. If it liked me, it would respond to someone else.
To anyone else.
"Come with me." He pushes past me. "Bring your stuff."
I grab my stuff and follow him into the lobby.
It's still empty. Just us. The store doesn't open for an hour. Walker is due in after lunch. Brendon too. Leighton showed me the schedule yesterday. (She also gushed about how hot they were. But not as hot as Ryan, of course).
Dean walks straight to his suite. All the way to the mirror.
He studies his reflection. He studies the ink. "What do you see?"
My work on someone's skin.
The rest of the world is a blur.
My thoughts are a blur.
My brain is screaming like a fourteen-year-old fangirl.
This is the coolest thing in the history of the world.
He makes eye contact through the mirror. "Chloe?"
"Yeah?"
"You want to do ink 'cause it's cool?"
"No."
"To piss off your family?"
"No."
"To prove you're a rebel?"
I fold my arms. "What the fuck?"
"If you love ink, you look at tattoos all the time."
"Of course."
"So, tell me what you think about my new ink." He pats his shoulder. "No holds barred."
Okay…
"I know it's tough concentrating. The bulging muscles are distracting. I tried to find a skinny model for this demo, but I was the only person available." His voice lifts back to that teasing tone. I'm Dean Maddox and I take nothing seriously.
"It suits you."
