by Avery Flynn
*****
There was no way in hell kissing Sawyer was a good idea but Penny couldn’t stop herself. Being around him turned her world into a rainforest where peeling off her clothes and running around naked all the time seemed perfectly normal. His lips were firm against hers and his tongue teasing, the combination was lethal. She slid her tongue against his, taking the kiss deeper, as she scooted closer. His hand dropped to her waist and he tugged the hem of her shirt higher.
The cool blast of air against her stomach brought her back from the brink. She flattened her palms against his chest and nudged him back.
“That isn’t going to happen.” She sounded as winded as if she’d just run the Miami marathon in six-inch heels and a g-string bikini. “Look, thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll handle this on my own.”
Getting up from the couch and away from his testosterone Bermuda triangle should have been her next move, but she wasn’t sure her jelly knees would hold her up. So instead she sat as straight as she could and clasped her hands in her lap.
Sawyer wiped the pad of his thumb across the corner of his mouth as he gave her a considering look. It was’t predatory in a creepy-stalker way, but that didn’t make her feel any less like she wasn’t being pursued—and turned on, God help her.
“I’m hooked on this mystery,” he said. “You can’t kick me off the case now.”
She could and she would. She had to. Being around him was as bad of an idea as someone getting a lover’s name tattooed on their forehead.
“Thanks for trying to help, but it’s not—”
“So if a pretend boyfriend is out,” he interrupted, “then you can give me a tattoo.”
Penny blinked as she tried to process his declaration. No one got a permanent tattoo on a whim to help someone who was practically a stranger. That plan made the fake boyfriend scheme look reasonable.
“Think about it,” he continued, his blue eyes gleaming with excitement. “That would give me a believable excuse to be at your studio and get a feel for the who and the what. It would need to be a big one, a custom design. We could work up something and see if the thief takes the bait.”
The plan was unhinged. There’s no way she could say yes. “I’m not inking you up permanently on a spur-of-the-moment, kinda-good idea you had. Tattoos are forever.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’ve been wanting to get another one, so really it’s a win-win here. Anyway, I trust you.”
Her heart thudded against her ribs as she flinched away from him. Trust. After finding out her mother had lied to her for her entire life about her father’s identity, that wasn’t something she believed in anymore, which is why she kept everyone but her best friend, Staci, at a distance. “You don’t even know me.”
“Cop instinct,” he said.
Sawyer seemed so confident in his belief that it made her squirm. Weren’t police officers supposed to be the ultimate cynics? “I could put Hello Kitty in rainbow Spandex all over your back.”
He pushed her sketchpad across the coffee table until it was in front of her. “You won’t because we’re going to condense your two visit pre-tattoo ritual to a single visit that takes place right now.”
The idea made her palms clammy. “That’s not how it’s done.” The process was in place for a reason. Second thoughts and impulsive tattoos went together like Nutella and pretzel sticks.
“Break the rules for once.” He rolled a pencil her way. “Don’t you think it’s for a worthy cause?”
It was crazy and it just might work. Plus, she didn’t have a better plan since using water torture on your employees was frowned upon. With any luck, they’d ferret out the thief and her life would get back to normal, filled with long sleepless nights listening to her hot cop neighbor bang club chicks. If possible, that idea had even less appeal than it had before he’d come pounding on her door in the wee hours of the morning. She folded that thought up and stuffed it in a dark place. That wasn’t something she had time to dwell on right now.
She picked up the pencil and flipped open her sketchpad. “Okay, so what do you want?”
Chapter Four
Daring Ink sat on the edge of the Wynwood Art District, the perfect location for the high-end artsy clientele who could afford, and wanted, custom tattoos. Sawyer rolled his Victory motorcycle to a stop in front of the studio and scoped the place out. One story with a black awning over the door and Daring Ink written in red on the front door, he would have known Penny had a hand in the decorating even if she hadn’t been the owner. The woman found what she liked and she stuck to it.
It was just past ten in the morning on a Saturday, but there were already a few people going in. He took off his helmet and stored it in the saddlebag and strode to the front door. Time to join the influx as just another guy looking for a tattoo.
The set up inside was simple. Illustrations of tattoos hung at eye level on the walls in the front part of the studio along with the framed examples of Penny’s custom work. The buzzing sound of tattooing in progress and the occasional groan, filtered out from behind the four curtained-off areas in the back that reminded him of the treatment areas in an emergency room. A skinny guy in a Moody Mondays T-shirt lounged against a waist-high glass case filled with Daring Ink T-shirts and shot glasses, trying to chat up the woman in a shredded Daring Ink T-shirt on the other side.
Platinum blonde with a detailed skull and roses tattoo on her upper arm, she ignored Mr. Try Hard and gave Sawyer a slow up and down, then sauntered around the case to come stand by him.
“Looking for anything in particular?” The platinum blonde asked as she slid her hands into her back pockets and arching her back just enough to push her Miami-level big tits outward.
He noticed—he wasn’t dead—but the usual instinct to follow up on her non-verbal invitation never appeared. Instead, he looked past her to the closed door marked Employees Only.
“I’m looking for Penny,” he said.
“She expecting you?”
“Against her better judgment I’m sure.”
“I’ll go get her.” She leaned in closer. “But you let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.”
He winked. “Will do.”
The blonde disappeared through the employee only door. A minute later she came out with Penny. He’d seen his sexy neighbor in nothing but a T-shirt and in a barely-there green bikini—both hot enough to melt the polar icecap—but seeing her in tight jeans that sat down low on her hips and hugged her ass turned his mouth dry and made him wonder if it would be better to peel them off her slow and take his time inching them down as he licked, nibbled and sucked every millimeter of skin as it was exposed.
If he lived through the next few hours, he’d do whatever it took to make that fantasy a reality. “Hey, honey.”
She stopped dead in her tracks, her jaw dropping open before she snapped it shut on the next breath and glared at him.
“Honey?” the blonde asked, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Penny. Her temper turned her cheeks pink and made her tits rise and fall in time with her quick breathing. She wasn’t going to like what came next, but it couldn’t be helped.
“We’re dating,” Sawyer said.
A groan escaped from Penny’s smooth red lips. “We. Are. Not.”
He shrugged at the blonde, playing to his audience. “Whatever you say, honey.”
“Is room three ready, Staci?” Penny asked the blonde through clenched teeth.
The blonde nodded, her gaze bouncing from Penny to Sawyer. He gave it about thirty seconds after he and Penny disappeared before everyone in the place heard all about his assertion and Penny’s denial, which meant as soon as he called for a break the employees would be jumping over each other to get the real scoop.
“If you’ll follow me, Mr. Dixon,” Penny said as she turned on her heel, not bothering to wait to see if he’d comply.
Sawyer shook his head and followed
along behind. He’d just pissed off the woman about to jab him a billion times with the needle. It was for a good reason, but that didn’t mean she’d see that right away. Good thing he’d always been able to sell sand to a guy living at the beach, now he had to put that skill to good use or he really would end up with Hello Kitty inked on his back.
*****
There was just enough room in the tattooing room for the cushioned table, bench with all of her tools and a stool for her to sit or kneel on while she worked, which meant pacing off her annoyance wasn’t an option. Instead, she was forced to wait inside the curtained-off room as he walked into the tiny space, made even smaller by his overwhelming presence.
The metal rings holding up the front curtain clanged as she whipped it closed.
“What in the hell was that about?” she asked, keeping her voice as low as her anger would let her.
The curtains on all sides gave the illusion of privacy, especially with the near constant buzzing of the tattoo guns on each side, but anyone who spent more than an afternoon at Daring Ink had learned to tune out the buzzing and focus their hearing on the words being said.
“I know I shouldn’t have said anything, honey.” He stepped closer, cupped the back of her head and dipped his head lower.
His gaze dropped to her mouth and her breath caught. The world went on whipping around at light speed, but inside their curtained-off room, everything slowed down to half-speed. She wet the center of her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, trying to hold on to the urge to kick him in the shins when what she’d rather do was push him back onto the massage table and fuck him like he was her boyfriend.
Boyfriend.
That single word was all it took to pull her back from the edge, let their little cocooned off area catch up with the rest of the world. She’d been an idiot to ask for his help. She knew better than to trust someone like Sawyer—someone who, as a vice cop, probably lied as easy as he breathed.
Turning her head, she moved to pull away, but he pulled her closer, his lips going to her ear.
“If I approached your employees to feel them out, it would put them on the defensive,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. “This gives them a reason to seek me out instead. If they think they’re pumping me for information, they’ll never realize that I’m doing the same thing.”
Why did his explanation have to make sense? And why did his fingers tangled in her hair make her think about how good it would feel to have him yank it hard while he pounded hard into her? Hell. She needed to get laid…and not by her sleeps-with-everything-in-a-tight-skirt neighbor.
“I don’t like being kept in the dark—ever.” Copper teased her about being a control freak. Her twin wasn’t wrong, but she had her reasons. She twisted out of Sawyer’s grasp and pointed to the table. “Shirt off and on the bed.”
He tugged off his T-shirt, exposing the mouthwatering broad swath of his muscled chest. “Now this sounds fun.”
“Finally, we agree.” She snapped on her latex gloves and picked up her tattoo gun.
Two hours later, Penny turned off her tattoo gun, her hand still vibrating a little even after she put the gun on the bench. Stretching out her fingers and rotating her wrist to relieve some of the stiffness from holding the gun for so long, she stared at the tattoo coming together on Sawyer’s back. Lady Justice along the line of his spine, stopping mid back, as she held the scales over each of his shoulder blades. The basics were done, but she needed to add in the details, shading and color highlights.
Anyone who said getting a tattoo didn’t hurt was lying, but the only time Sawyer reacted was when Penny first smoothed her palm across his shoulders and upper back so she could get a feel for his skin and the curve of his muscle. He hadn’t flinched under her touch so much as he hardened under it, as if he had to steel himself against responding to her. But now he lay perfectly still, his breathing slow and steady almost as if—
“Are you asleep?” It wouldn’t be the first time a client had snoozed while getting a tattoo, but it still wasn’t the every day. Sometimes people got to a certain pain level and surrendered to it, lessening its hold on them until they could block it out.
Sawyer stirred. “Is it safe to sit up?” he asked, his deep voice muffled slightly by the thick cushioning around the opening at the head of the table that allowed a client to rest comfortably on their stomach and breathe.
“Yep, it’s break time.” She disposed of the needle from the tattoo gun into the biohazard box hanging on the wall and then stripped off her latex gloves and dropped them into the trashcan under the bench.
Sawyer sat up slowly, as if he was testing how bad the ache would be. He rolled his neck from side to side before stretching his arms and twisting at the waist. The moves he used to work out whatever kinks he had in his muscles turned Penny’s tongue to dust. For the past few hours she’d lost herself into the vibrating buzz of the tattoo gun as she turned his back into her canvas, but now—seeing him like this—she remembered her canvas was a man and attraction slammed against her.
Naked from the waist up, with his face wrinkled with sleep and his dark blonde hair mussed, he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed after a long and thorough fuck session. The kind that left you drained, sweaty and begging for more.
He ran his long fingers through his hair, looked up, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. He didn’t move, didn’t even blink, but the hot intensity of his focus was as potent as any touch. Penny’s fingers flew to her sensitive lips and she held her breath in anticipation. She wanted this—wanted him.
Sawyer stood, bringing him practically right up against her in the tight spot. Heat radiated from his body, caressing her and tempting her to see how hot they could burn together. Face-of-the-sun hot was her guess and judging by the size of the bulge pressing against his jeans, it would be worth getting burnt to a crisp.
“Not break time.” Still facing her, he reached up and grabbed a corner of the curtain separating them from the rest of the studio. “Work time.”
He pulled the curtain open and at the same time dropped his mouth to hers, his strong lips promising exactly what she shouldn’t be wanting but still needed. Then almost as soon as it began, it was over. Sawyer pulled back, a self-satisfied grin on his face.
“You bet we can take a break, honey,” he said, loud enough for the entire studio to hear. “You go take care of what you need. I’ll just hang out in the break room until you’re ready to finish up.”
He smacked her on the ass and strutted out of the curtained-off room toward the employee only door.
The dick.
He’d managed to mark her as his, insult her ability to do her job by saying she needed a break, and go all macho man with the slap on her butt. It took everything she had not to wing something solid at the back of his head as he sauntered off. The women in her family must be cursed. It was the only explanation for how they were always drawn to the biggest prick in the room. Mr. Anaconda Cock, indeed.
*****
Sawyer didn’t look back as he made his way to the employee’s only door, but it wasn’t because he didn’t want to.
Making the strategic decision to kiss Penny had been easy, but Sawyer hadn’t expected that ending it would be so difficult. The whole thing had started as a way to win a bet by going on a date with his sexy neighbor, but he was starting to feel more like an asshole with each minute he spent with Penny. Making that bet had been the best and worst decision.
Behind the employee’s only door there was a small break room with a circular table, a fridge, a sink, a soda machine and a microwave. Stacks of tattoo magazines littered the top of the table. A door on the opposite side of the room stood closed, but he glanced through the window next to it and spotted a desk, laptop and a few file cabinets. No doubt that was Penny’s office. Ignoring his natural instinct to go check if she’d left her portfolio in her top drawer as usual, he grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket and strolled over to the soda machine.
“It’s out of Dr. Pepper,” the woman said.
Glancing back, he confirmed it was the platinum blonde. “Thanks. I’m a Coke guy anyway.” He slid his dollar bill in the machine and waited for the ka-thunk of the can hitting the exit flap.
After grabbing his Coke, he turned around. The blonde was already at the table. She was flipping through one of the magazines, but her attention was locked on him. Hard. Assessing. Skeptical.
He put on his most charming smile, the one that always worked. “Staci, right?”
“And you’re the boyfriend?” She made air quotes around the last word.
Bam. Penny hadn’t been kidding about her coworkers seeing right through him.
“Sorta.” He took a seat at the table across from her. “You a tattoo artist too?”
Staci snorted. “Not even close. I’m the office manager. Now, tell me about sorta.”
He popped open the can and took a long drink, letting the fizz tickle his tongue before swallowing. The move bought him time. He could keep pretending, which wasn’t going to get him far, or admit he was full of shit. Lucky him, he’d worked vice long enough to be able to lie like a pro, the key being to stick as close to the truth as possible.
“I’m working on it,” he said.
She smirked. “Good luck with that.”
Ouch. He flinched. The blonde was as harsh as her peroxide. “You think she’s too nice for me?”
Staci slapped the tattoo magazine closed and leaned forward. “I think she’d eat you up and floss her teeth with your bones.”
“So I can put you down for being in my corner?” he asked as she stood up.
