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8
KYAH
Iswear,tequilaisthe devil’s lifeblood. What the hell was I thinking going so hard last night? My head aches, and I’m pretty sure I’m about to see the contents of my stomach. But hell, when having to face Crew and his demands for our future together, tequila is a necessity. Even though I feel awful this morning, I can’t bring myself to regret my night.
A lot was said last night, words that can’t be taken back, but as long as he knows where I stand and is able to respect those boundaries, then we should be okay. I just hope these next few years waiting for me won’t destroy him. It almost makes me feel guilty for not being ready for a life with him. The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt him.
But what if he finds someone else during that time and I foolishly missed my chance? Or what if those few years pass and I find that I’m still not ready to make a life with him? So much could go wrong. People change. Their hearts change, and their wants and needs change right along with it. To be completely honest, while I know how incredible we’d be together, I just don’t know if I want that . . . not yet at least.
Glancing at the clock, I realize I’m going to be late for my first client if I don’t get a move on, and as I roll over in bed, I let out a sigh of relief, finding Crew already long gone. My hand stretches out over his side of the bed and finds it cold, as though it hadn’t even been slept in, and honestly, I really don’t know if it had. As soon as he finished rocking my world in a way it’s never been rocked before, I passed out.
Considering everything we talked about at the bar, I wouldn’t be surprised to find he had left last night. Once a line has been drawn, he’s usually good at respecting them, and he’d already pushed my boundaries enough last night. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to then go and make me pull away by staying the night.
Realizing I stink like a bar and sex, I hurry through a quick shower before noticing the remnants of my night with Crew left all over my bed. Fucking gross.
Not having time to wash the sheets now, I yank them off my bed and drop them in a pile on my bedroom floor, wondering what the likelihood of running into Alex in the laundry would be before quickly dismissing the thought. I don’t have space for that kind of trouble in my life.
It’s another big day. Saturdays are always my busiest, and usually I love that, but today, my pounding head is going to make this a challenge.
Grabbing my phone off my bedside table, I find my gaze shifting over Alex’s number he left taped to my door last night, and before I scurry out of my room and change my mind, I grab it, shoving it deep into my bag before getting my ass out the door and locking up behind me.
God. I must be an idiot for not throwing that away.
My gaze flickers to Alex’s door, still so intrigued by the one guy I adamantly told myself that I wouldn’t be going out with. Hell, I feel guilty for just thinking about the possibility of going out with him after all of Crew’s heavy feelings last night, which is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.
How can I even consider anything with Alex after Crew fucked me into oblivion last night? Hell, I know Crew almost better than he knows himself, and I know for damn sure he put in all the extra effort to blow my mind for that very reason. He wanted to ruin me for other men so that I’d come running right back into his open arms.
Fucking asshole.
After a twenty-minute stroll through the streets of Brooklyn, I finally push through the door of High Voltage Ink and see Big Jim already working on a client. Hearing the bell chime above the door, Jim glances up, and a fond smile spreads across his face, but as I make my way around the counter and into the back, his brows begin to furrow.
I walk right into his side and drop a kiss to his cheek.
“You look like shit,” he comments, his gaze scanning over my face.
“Why thank you,” I say, walking across to my station and dropping my bag on the table. “They’re the exact words every woman wants to hear first thing in the morning.”
“Just calling it how I see it,” Jim says, turning his gaze back to his client’s shoulder and getting back to work. Then despite how thoroughly I cleaned my station after Crew and I screwed all over it last night, I give everything another wipe down and put my bag in the back.
My first client of the day is just arriving for her consultation, and we spend the next twenty minutes going over everything she wants. She’s a virgin when it comes to ink, but she wants a whole sleeve, and I groan to myself, knowing that when she returns next week to actually start the process, it’s going to be a painful day. Today, we’re just talking design.
It’s well after lunch when Crew finally walks in, and just as usual, he comes straight to me and drops a kiss to my cheek, only this time, his hand lingers on my back a second longer than normal. “How are you feeling?” he murmurs, his hungry gaze sailing over my face, probably remembering exactly how it felt to push inside of me.
“Like someone poured a whole bottle of tequila down my throat and then fucked me until I couldn’t stand.”
He grins, his hand lowering to my ass. “You still feel me between those pretty thighs, don’t you?”
My cheeks flush, and I don’t miss the way my afternoon client lifts his head and locks his gaze onto mine, raising a brow as a smirk stretches across his face. I groan and look up at Crew. “Don’t you have something you need to be doing?”
“No, no, no,” my client rushes out, stealing my attention right back. “Please, finish your conversation. I’m dying to hear how this one turns out.”
I roll my eyes and look back at Crew, stepping into him and lifting my chin as his hand finds my waist. “I feel you with every step I take. Every time I sit down, every time I tilt my hips even an inch. I feel you everywhere,” I murmur, my tongue rolling over my bottom lip, remembering just how easily he took control of my body and made me come alive.
Crew leans in, his nose skimming along the sensitive skin below my ear. “How is it possible for me to need you so badly already?”
“Hey,” Big Jim calls out, making me all but spring away from Crew. My head whips toward Jim to see him staring between me and Crew, his brows furrowed. “Is something going on that I need to be aware of?”
“No,” I rush out, looking guilty as all hell.
