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I wanted to tell him I loved him, so he knew we would know I was in this for the long haul. I hoped he believed it. But I didn’t want to whisper“I love you”for the first time in a tattoo parlor.
Instead, I kissed him as passionately as possible, pressing my breasts into his chest. When he groaned into my mouth, his large hand cupping my butt, I felt a little better about my stupid remark.
“Prez, you need a private room?” A voice bellowed with laughter.
I reared back. Art was grinning like a fool. How all these men found each other and became brothers was one of life’s greatest mysteries. They were all tall, muscly, tatted, ruggedly handsome, and oozed sex appeal. But mostly, if you had them on your side, as Storm did, they were willing to take a bullet for you. They were loyal, dependable, and not afraid to die.
Mercy, their grit astounded me.
As the prez’s old lady, they would protect me with their life too. I still hadn’t fully wrapped my brain around it.
“You got one free?” Storm quipped.
“For my prez, absolutely.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Please, don’t give him ideas.” Knowing Storm, he’d take me into a back room and have his way with me before I got branded with his mark. Hell, I was surprised he hadn’t already, up against the brick wall in the alley behind the shop.
“Aw, come on, baby…” His mouth dropped to my neck, teeth nipping at the tendon along the bend. Dang it, I was dripping wet.
“Christ, never seen you like this before, Storm,” the receptionist said, frustration in her voice.
Art chuckled. “Because he hasn’t been. But Angel here is special.” He clucked his tongue. “Don’t you forget it.”
“Yeah, whatever,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.
Storm lifted his head and turned toward the woman. He didn’t say anything, and I dared not look at his face.
“Sorry, Storm,” the tart receptionist said in a softer voice.
He grunted.
“Come on, let’s take you back. I’ll be doing the honors, Miss Madeline. Espada’s booked solid working on a pair of titties that would rival Dolly Parton’s.” Art licked his bottom lip as if he’d love to sample them.
“Damn, man, really?” Storm sounded intrigued.
I elbowed him hard. He didn’t flinch.
“Baby, yours are perfect.” He reached for me.
I pushed his hands away. “Shut up, you big jerk. It’s a mortal sin to talk about another woman in front of your girl.”
“Angel,” he said in a warning tone, letting his alpha out for pushing him away. I knew his game. He didn’t scare me. If he thought it was okay to talk like that, I’d have to show him how it felt.
“You know, Art. I’m fine with you inking me. I like your work,” I said in a sweet, flirty voice for a little payback.
Storm growled low.Good.
“Oh yeah? Been admiring it?” Art wiggled his brows.
“Every night…” My voice trailed when I wanted to saywhen Storm and I have sex. Art usually did all of my man’s ink. It was phenomenal. My cheeks heated, probably turning red as we went down the hallway. I was getting a smaller version of Storm’s tattoo on the back of my neck. He wanted blue stormy cumulonimbus clouds with hints of my eye color peppered through it. His was all in black. In the middle of mine, it would say “Property of Storm.” And in a smaller font point, KLMC.
But now… “You know, I think I want the tat on my left tit. Think you could handle it, Art?”
“Goddammit, Angel!” Storm reeled me in, so I was flush with his body. He grabbed the sides of my face firmly between his large hands and put his forehead to mine. “It won’t happen again.”
“Are you sure?” I stared him hard in the eyes. I wouldn’t take any shit. “If you’re talking about other women and their body parts or what you might like to do to them, I’m going to think you don’t want me anymore. Then I’ll—”
He gritted his teeth. “Don’t say it. Don’t. I don’t want any other woman. Only you.”
