“Never say never, Lexi Taylor,” Brea says in a sing-songy tone.
“Didn’t I tell you to shush?” I glare over at her, and she sticks her tongue out at me.
Real mature, Brea.
Josh ends up finishing my tattoo with a few extra minutes to spare before his next appointment, so he touches up a few of my other sun-faded tattoos. After he finishes and tapes me up with plastic wrap, Brea and I pay him cash. He walks off to get change. Brea is rambling about a mile a minute. I think she’s telling me all about her latest crush, but honestly, I kinda zoned about the time that Coen left the room.
The studio’s phone rings, and I hear Josh answer, “Good Afternoon. Diamond Tattoo Studio, Josh speaking. What I can we do for ya?” About the same time as the phone rings, Bre hops up out of her chair and says,
“Holy crap, do I have to pee! All that iced tea I drank at lunch just hit me all of a sudden. Be right back.”
I’m sitting on the edge of the tattoo table with my back turned to the rest of the studio. Kicking my feet, I put my shirt back on and check out all of Josh’s crazy drawings and strange art pieces that he collects. There’s a shrunken head (which I hope is fake) and a preserved rattlesnake in a bottle of some sort of orangey-yellow colored liquid.
I hear footsteps.
“It’s about time you got off the phone, Chatty.” I say, thinking it's Josh finally back with our change. I freeze when he replies.
“Who are you calling Chatty, Sweet Cheeks?”
It’s Coen. That deep, melodic voice is unmistakable. It vibrates through me, deep into my bones, and makes me quiver and quake in ways I never knew were possible. Patrick never made me feel that way. But why won’t Coen leave me alone? Do I want him to leave me alone?
Yes, Lexi, you do. No time for boys. Boys are assholes. But Coen is definitely not a boy. He is all man. All six foot whatever feet and 200 plus pounds of muscular, tattooed flesh of him. And God, he smells so damn good.
Snapping back to reality, I whip my head around and look up at Coen. He looks so fucking sexy with his thumbs resting on the edges of the pockets of his dark jeans. His eyes are a gorgeous sea green.
“I thought you were Josh,” I say, reaching over my shoulder, pretending to make sure the tape is still on my tattoo. Really, I’m just nervous as hell talking to him, so I’m fidgeting. “And don’t call me Sweet Cheeks, Stalker.”
“Stalker? You know, name calling isn’t really the best way to treat a new friend,” Coen says furrowing his brow. “For the record, Lexi, I’m not stalking you. It’s pure coincidence that we’ve ended up in the same place twice today. I’m not trying to put any moves on you. I just want to be friends. That’s all.” He says with a look in his eyes that tells me differently. Yet I can’t figure out why.
“Look, Coen.” I stand up and grab my things. Brea is taking entirely too long in the bathroom, and I’m starting to think Josh is lost, too. “Whatever your intentions may be, friends, dating, stalking, or anything else, I’m not interested. I just got out of a kinda shitty relationship. I’m not looking to spend time with men for any reason right now.”
Just as I finish speaking, Josh comes over and hands me my change. “I take offense to that remark.” He says, looking wounded. He’s so full of crap. It takes a lot more than that to hurt his feelings.
“You’re my only exception, Josh, you know that,” I say, slapping him on the shoulder and handing him a tip for my tattoo. He takes it and gives me a quick hug, careful not to bump my fresh ink. Brea finally comes back not long after Josh does. I lift one eyebrow at her, wondering what took her so long. She just smiles, looking so innocent, but so guilty at the same time. I’ll pry whatever she’s hiding out of her later.
Coen clears his throat, and I think I catch him smirk briefly in Brea’s direction. I knew it. Typical guy. Flirts with every girl he sees. “I have an idea,” he says. “Why don’t you two ladies meet me at the quarter mile straight stretch at the end of town? There’s a little get together of sorts tonight. Bring friends if you want, no pressure. No date. Just hangin’ out and chillin’. What do ya say?” he asks.
Before I can even open my mouth, Brea pops up and says, “We’ll be there. What time?”
He flashes that sly, sexy smirk of his again, and those dimples are enough to melt me into a puddle. He’s oh so pleased with Brea’s answer. I cross my arms in a huff, and give them both a dissatisfied look. I’m not happy about this at all. How am I supposed to deny the fact that this guy sends chills through every fiber of my body when I can’t seem to keep him at arm’s length long enough? This was NOT how I planned on my day going. At all.
But you’ll get to see this gorgeous man again, so buck up, buttercup. You can show up until he sees that you’re there, then turn around and leave. End of story. You can be done with him forever.
But do I want to be done with him forever? I roll my eyes. “Thanks, Josh, for the ink. Chat with you soon. And Coen, I guess we’ll see you tonight, but don’t expect us to stick around long.” I turn to leave. His hand grips my elbow as I go to walk past him. Strong enough to stop me, but not hurt me. He leans in close to my ear and whispers,
“I’m looking forward to it, Lexi.”
I suddenly feel the blood rushing to my cheeks and turn to Brea, “Come on, miss ten-minute-potty-break, let’s go,” I say as I quickly head out the door.
I LEAVE THE TATTOO shop and go straight to my buddy Derek’s house feeling even more confused. Why does my brain scream, “Stay the fuck away from her you idiot. You’ll only get hurt.” but every muscle and bone in the rest of my body urges, “You need to have this one. At least one time.”
What the hell does my dick know, anyways?
My eyes know that Lexi is unlike any other woman I’ve ever seen. Her hair is a gorgeous dark cherry red, like that hot Camaro I bet last week. Too bad we weren’t racing for pink slips. They both would look hot underneath me.
Her eyes are brown, with little tiny hints of green. Her tits look like they’d fit in my hands perfectly. And those hips and that ass of hers are just curvy enough in all the right places. My strong, firm hands would look so hot on that waist while I’m helping her ride my long, hard cock. Up and down. Slow at first, thrusting my hips, making sure to hit every. Perfect. Spot. To drive her insane until she’s begging to ride me harder.
Fucking hell, I’m sitting in a lawn chair on Derek’s front porch, waiting for him to get home so I can ask for his help to get my car ready for tonight’s race, and now I have a raging hard on. I adjust myself, and think about how I’m going to pull off this win. Losing is not an option. I’ve invited Lexi and her friend, Brea, I think her name was. No guy in his right mind would want to lose in front of two hot chicks. I’m trying to get Lexi to like me, not make her think I’m some loser. And that isn’t like me at all. At least, not anymore. There’s no point in getting her to really like me if I’m not going to keep her around for long. Fuck, if there isn’t something between us, though. It doesn’t matter how much I deny it: my dick has a mind of its own when Lexi is around. I sit forward in the lawn chair and grab my phone from my pocket, resting my elbow on my knees. As I’m just about ready to dial Derek’s number to find out where the hell he is, he finally pulls up.
He hops out of his truck and shuts the door. “Hey, man! What’s up? Car running okay?” I’ve known Derek since we were about ten years old. We met at the skate park one day after school. Two jock type guys, a couple years older than us, were giving Derek a hard time. He was short and a little pudgy back then. I couldn’t just stand there and watch them pick on the poor kid. I ended up punching them both square in the nose, and we ran back to my aunt’s place. Derek can mostly definitely take care of himself now. He’s no longer that short chubby kid that was always bullied. He’s put on some muscle over the years since I started teaching him to stick up for himself. We’ve always had each other’s back since that day. Derek’s basically been the only real family I’ve had since my parents were taken from me.