Page 39 of Meant for You

Bull motioned to it with his hand. “Have at it.”

Okay, fuck. I sat at my table and drew all over his design, adding the swirls and color I thought would look good—nothing too over the top, but what I felt would work with what Bull already had—and feeling damned nervous for some stupid reason.

This was Bull, for fuck’s sake.

If he didn’t like it, no big deal, right?

Why was my mouth so fucking dry all of a sudden?

When I was done, I rolled my stool back and gave him room, watching as he leaned over it and took it all in.

“Fuck…yeah, this is awesome,” he muttered.

Pride filled my chest. “Cool,” I said, trying not to jump out of my damned seat, my gut a riot of nerves, while relief that he liked it coursed through me.

Bull and Cal were so talented, some of the best. And I wasn’t sure he had any idea how much his approval meant to me.

“Let’s get this shit done,” Bull said, yanking off his shirt and getting up on my table.

I got everything prepped, and a few minutes later the buzz of my tattoo machine filled the room.

“So,” Bull said. “What’s up with you and your girl?”

My gaze was locked on what I was doing, fully focused, which was probably why my answer came unguarded and uncensored. “Friends isn’t enough. Gonna make her mine.”

“Yeah? Like that, is it?”

“Not yet, not really, but it will be,” I said.

Bull was silent a couple of beats. “Probably best you tread carefully with her.”

I dipped my chin. “That’s exactly what I plan on doing.”

A short time later, I was finishing up. He put Quinn’s name on his ribs, one of a few clear spots on his upper body. I knew what he already had, and had tried to tie this new piece in. Design and colorwise, I’d gotten it right.

It looked—shit—so fucking good.

I wiped the ink and blood from his skin, and Bull stood, moving to the mirror just as Cal appeared at the door.

“Fuck, brother,” Bull said, checking it out. “Think you get your skill with the needle from me.”

I chuckled, glancing at Cal.

“You designed that?” Cal asked me.

“Collab,” Bull said. “Can’t give him all the credit.”

“That’s nice work,” Cal said, moving closer and getting a better look.

I lifted my chin, more stupid pride spreading through me and making it hard to talk.

“Quinn is gonna love this,” Bull said, a big-ass grin on his face.

“It’s definitely better than the bull’s head you inked on her ass,” Cal said, laughing.

Bull grinned, his whole face lighting up. “My woman loves it.”

“Territorial bastard,” Cal said, still laughing.