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I tug the sleeve back down to let it hang, and her breath hitches at the touch. Groaning, I try to pull my hand back, but it decides to trace the lines of my name on her instead.
She looks up at me, leaning into the touch, and I slide my other hand down to her waist, pulling her closer. She doesn’t fight me. Instead, she lets me tug her all the way to my body before I lift her up and crush my lips against hers.
Her legs immediately wrap around my waist, and she moans into my mouth as her fingers tangle in my hair. I walk her back into the room with the couch, and she stays in my lap as I drop down, sitting on the sofa.
When she grinds against me, I start tugging at the button on her tight little shorts, ready to be buried inside her to remind everyone in this fucking place she’s mine.
Then it slams back to me, and I curse while breaking away from the kiss and dropping the button I just got undone.
“Fuck! Why the fuck did you have to work with Drake?” I growl, trying and failing to force myself to push her away from me.
“Because I needed a job where I fit in. Something that didn’t make me miserable. I love it here,” she says softly, leaning forward to kiss me again.
I barely miss her lips, and I finally manage to stand and dump her onto the couch in one motion. She glares up at me.
“Hot and cold. Why even kiss me if you don’t fucking want me anymore?”
That mouth on her has gotten braver. That’s for damn sure. Of course, working here for a week has probably helped with that.
I wish that mouth was doing something much more productive than bitching at me. I also wish… I wish a lot of things. Doesn’t change anything.
Adjusting my painfully hard cock in my jeans, I turn around and walk back into the room where Drake is finishing up and smiling at me again.
“Touch her and I’ll put you in the bed beside Jessie.”
That kills his smile instantly.
“I’d never do what he did, and you fucking know it,” he snarls.
“Didn’t say you would. I’m saying if you touch her at all. Understand?”
His lips twitch when he no longer feels insulted.
“So you don’t want me but no one else can have me?”
Damn her.
I turn to see Eve glaring at me, and it makes me want to just kill Drake to save myself the hassle of worrying about this.
“You want him?” I ask, getting right in her face. She has no idea how close I am to fucking her on the floor to prove a damn point.
“No. I want you. But you know this already. Doesn’t mean you get to threaten someone I might want later on when I finally take the fucking hint you’re done.”
Not even going to admit how sick that makes me to even think about. No one better touch her. Not if they want to keep walking. I don’t care if he’s a saint who saves children from starvation. If he wants to keep his dick, then it’ll stay out of my girl, even I can’t have her.
She can have a vibrator or something. I’ll buy it.
“I’m not fucking you,” Drake immediately points out. “Sorry, sweetie. Not even your pretty ass is worth that man’s rage. I’m all about flower power. Not violence.”
I glare over my shoulder at Drake, knowing the asshole is just mocking me at this point. Dash has to walk away before he actually laughs.
Fucker.
Eve continues to seethe, and I continue to make an ass out of myself by even being here. Instead of doing something I’ll regret—like taking her back to the couch—I turn and walk out the door.
I need a fucking drink.
Chapter 15
EVE
“You’re like a little miracle doll,” Drake tells me as I finish cleaning up all his equipment.
I get to design, and I get to earn more money by doing all the things that eat up a lot of his time—like clean, run the register, hand out aftercare instructions, make appointments, answer the phone… The list is ridiculous.
“I don’t know how you’ve been doing it alone for so long.”
He shrugs. “I had help for a couple of years, but he branched out and created his own business. Even stole some of my clients when Drex and I had a falling out.”
I tilt my head as he opens the door, and stand under the awning when I walk out while he finishes locking up. One of the Death Dealer guards loads up on his bike, despite the rain, and heads out onto the road.
“Cecil,” he elaborates.
I’ve heard them mention the phantom tattoo artist.
“Gotcha. So why haven’t you hired someone else?” I ask as he walks me out to his car.
