Page 32 of Spring Break Fling

Her eyes narrowed, anger simmering just below the surface. “You know that’s not how this went down. You distracted me with your charm and your stories. I trusted you.”

“You know you like it,” I said, my voice husky.

Hannah’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t start. Just fix it.”

I crossed my arms, letting my smirk widen. She could pretend she was unaffected by my charm, but I could see otherwise.

She wanted me.

“I’m booked out for the next three weeks.”

Her face twisted with rage, and I thought she might actually throw something at me.

“But,” I added, drawing the word out for maximum effect, “I could fit you in earlier. If… you agree to go on a few dates with me.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, I thought I’d pushed too far. She looked like she was seriously considering walking out the door—and maybe punching me on the way.

“But I’m only here for two weeks.”

I grinned, pure victory coursing through me. “I can make that work.”

Before she could argue, I turned and walked into the back of the shop, leaving her standing there. I heard her growl. The sound went straight to my dick, making it jump to attention. I heard the door open, felt the rush of air and turned just in time to see her walking out.

I was buzzing with the thrill of the game and the prospect of seeing her again under less hostile circumstances. I strapped my gloves back on and started cleaning up, but my mind was on Hannah. That fire, that intensity—she was a storm dressed in a business suit, and I was all too ready to chase the hurricane.

The initials might have been a mistake but they had brought her back to me. Now, I would get to spend some time with the sexy, curvy one-night stand for a week or so. And I was going to get the chance to give her more ink.

“What was that about?” Marcus asked.

“I messed up her tattoo.”

“Bullshit,” he said.

I flashed him a grin.

“You fucked up a tattoo on purpose?”

“I wouldn’t say it was fucked up,” I said. “It was just a little more than she asked for.”

“Did I hear her say you branded her?”

“Again, a little dramatic.”

Marcus looked at me like I had sprouted a second head.

“But you know her?” he pressed.

“I knew her, one night. It was enough to know I wanted more,” I replied with a shrug.

Marcus shook his head, a grin twitching at the corner of his lips. “Only you would turn a tattoo into a pickup line.”

“It’s not just a pickup line,” I said as I organized my inks. “It’s an opportunity. She’ll come around. They always do.”

“Or she’ll trash your reputation and slap a lawsuit on you for every penny you’re worth,” Marcus retorted. “There’s a thin line between confident and reckless, and you’re dancing on it.”

Ignoring his warning, I continued prepping my station for the next client. The heat of her fury and the challenge in her eyes sparked something primal within me. It wasn’t just about getting her back in the chair—it was about getting her in my bed once again. I couldn’t shake the feeling there was unfinished business between us.

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