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I shift, unsure whether I should just leave.
“No.” He pulls me back closer to him and inhales the scent of my hair. It’s a weird, intimate gesture, and I don’t think we’re close enough for it. But he does it anyway and it feels right.
“The only thing I can say is that I’m not happy with how this place is run. I’m a silent observer but, personally, I don’t like Valerie. It has nothing to do with who I’m aligned to,” he explains. There’s a small smile on his lips now. It seems that whatever he was debating has reached a conclusion in his head. “And I’m here because she’s not. To be honest, I was only going to sit in her chair and imagine her face if she ever came back. She would see me sitting in here, a smug smile on my face, so close to her precious papers. My ass in the same place where hers is when she threatens all of us and destroys our lives.”
“Wait, so you’re scared of her as well?” I say and I instantly feel like a child. Of course he’s scared. Or if not scared, at least he’s cautious because she owns this place, and this place is horrible.
“I’m not necessarily scared. I will say I dislike her enough so that I’m not above petty revenge.” His face changes a little bit, the impish grin returning on his lips.
Something is brewing in his mind. I love this face. It’s the face that came up with the vodka and cranberry drink that I drink every day now. It’s the drink that makes my day better because it also means I get to see Ben for five minutes. Just him and me and a shot glass.
My cheeks flush because my own mind supplies a mental image of us that makes my knees tremble. Emboldened by the moment, I voice my fantasy to Ben.
Be brave, Tanya. The worst that can happen is that you get rejected.
“I want to kiss you right now,” I say. “And if it’s not too forward of me, I want to sit on this desk, spread my legs, and pull your face between them. I want you to taste me. And I want to know that next time I come into this office that I’ve come all over the papers Valerie protects so dearly with her life. And that I did it with you.”
His pupils dilate and his breathing quickens to match mine. I know then that he won’t reject me. He hardens underneath me.
“Do we have time for all of that? What if we get caught?” His eyes drop to my lips. It’s impossible to ignore the allure of his mouth any longer.
“Then we better start now,” I purr. The control I have in this moment awakens something within me that has always been sleeping under heaps of fear and pain.
He is perfect like this. Both soft and hard, and ready to entertain my petty revenge ideas. I crush my mouth into his pillowy lips. He parts them, letting me dominate him with my hungry tongue.
He tastes like dreams come true, like the absence of suffering. I don’t care if Valerie or Penelope or anyone else is screwing up my whole life. Because my life at this very moment is perfect.
Ben slides his hands across my thighs and under my little dress, lifting it with the movement.
He breaks the kiss to look at me and his eyes drink me in. I’m wearing a thong so small, it leaves nothing to the imagination. He chuckles.
“Red,” he whispers. “Like a drop of cranberry juice on your pale skin.”
His thighs flex under me when he lifts me and props me on Valerie’s desk like he promised.
My chest heaves as he dips his head between my legs and inhales my scent.
“Is that a phoenix?” he asks as he spots the elaborate tattoo on my inner thigh.
“A firebird.” The word comes out as a breathy whisper. I bite my lower lip in sweet anticipation. I’m already wet. Because, apparently, petty revenge and Ben’s eagerness to please turn me on.
Chapter 19
Present day
It’s 8:00 a.m. I’ve barely slept, and I’m sitting in Joshua’s leather chair, shirtless as always, waiting for his verdict.
“Man, if I knew you were going to be so efficient at your job, I would have started smaller.” He shakes his head and looks at his watch. There’s an hour before his first clients start coming in, and an hour and a half before I’m due to take Jenya to the embassy.
I look down at the massive fire tattoo that now takes most of my sternum and pull the skin around, trying to identify some space where more could be added.
Joshua, or the Arcana Hierophant as he is known in the gang, is our fixer. He’s the one who organized the hit on the Red Rad Ron orphanage and the one making sure that Comet International are no longer in our territory, stepping on our toes. He’s also one hell of a tattoo artist. He’s popular, and I have no idea how he manages to juggle his endless stream of ‘normal’ customers with the unforgiving job of being a fixer. He clearly has the work-life balance sussed out.
“If you get a bit closer to my nipples and down the ribcage here, you can fit some more flames?” I point to a few empty areas on my chest.
“How about I paint over your nipples? Or, and this is a wild idea, why don’t you start shame-tattooing some other part of yourself? I can make it hurt, I promise.” He crosses his arms in front of his massive chest and raises an eyebrow.
“I’m not shame-tattooing! I just don’t want to forget how many fires I’ve started since I joined the Arcana,” I say.
