Beg For You: Rocktown Ink, Book One

by Gray, Sherilee

  Goose bumps lifted where my lips had been. “Don’t call me that,” she said, voice shaky. “You don’t know anything about me or my life.”

  She was right. All this time I thought I did, but now I wasn’t so sure, and it had been fucking with me.

  I stroked her side with my knuckles again, and she shivered but didn’t ask me to stop. “The other night…” I tried to get my next words clear in my head. “Look, I’m not…used to having people in my place. I never show…anyone my work.” Why was I telling her this? But I couldn’t shut myself up. “It’s always just been for me. P-Personal, you know?” I growled when I stuttered over my words. She did this to me. She fucked with my head without even trying.

  She sat up, her back pressing to my front, and she twisted so she could see me. A sigh slid past her perfect lips. “No, I’m sorry. I should never have touched them. You were right to be angry.”

  I had both hands on her waist and lifted them higher, over her ribs, resting them just below her breasts. “Does that mean you forgive me…for acting like an asshole?”

  Her breathing had increased, and her gaze dropped to my lips. “Yes, if you forgive me for being nosy.” Then her eyes came back to mine. “You are extremely talented, though. I’d love to display some of your work in my gallery.”

  I started to shake my head.

  “It doesn’t have to be the ones I saw. You had canvases stacked all around your apartment…maybe you have something else I could show?”

  “No.” I pressed my lips against hers, kissing her gently to take away the sting of my rejection, then lifted my head. “They’re for me. No one else.”

  Her lashes fluttered open. Her eyes were glazed. I loved that I could do that to her with just one kiss. “Hmm?”

  I felt my lips curl in a grin. She was cute like this, all turned on and soft. “Thanks for the offer, Princess, but I’m not interested in showing my work.”

  “Why do you call me Princess?” she said, surprising me with the change of subject. “At first, I liked it. Now…” She dropped her gaze. “It didn’t feel very nice when you called me that the other night.”

  I thought I hated it when she acted the uppity rich girl because that’s what it was—an act—I was sure of it. But this, her eyes downcast like she was feeling unsure, I hated even more.

  I slid my fingers under her chin and tilted her head back so she was looking at me. “I was an asshole the other night.” I moved my thumb over her jaw, her smooth skin. “I call you Princess because…that’s how you look to me. Perfect—”

  “I’m far from perfect—”

  “Untouchable. That’s the way I see you. You’re the princess…to my beast.”

  “You’ve touched me,” she whispered.

  “And I have no right putting my…scarred as fuck hands on you.” If she knew the truth…

  “I like them on me. It’s all I can think about,” she said, eyes dropping to my mouth again.

  “Yeah?” All the blood had rushed from my head to my dick, and I was close to pulling her to the floor and fucking her.

  There was a knock on the doorframe, and Dane pushed his head through the curtain. Cassy quickly turned away, covering herself with her arms. I scowled at my brother. “What?”

  “Just wondered if Cassy wanted a drink—water, coffee?”

  She glanced back over her shoulder at him. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  Dane looked at me. “And to remind you, you have another client coming in half an hour.” His eyes slid to Cassy’s back. “You best get started.” Then he ducked back out.

  I muttered a curse. “Next time, I make the appointment time, yeah?” I pressed my mouth to her ear. “I’m not going to get time to do what I want to you. That doesn’t make me happy, Princess.” I was the worst kind of asshole. I should have been stopping this, but, fuck, I couldn’t do it.

  She turned so her face was still in profile, her chin slightly dropped. “Maybe I could come and see you…when I don’t have an appointment?”

  I swallowed, trying to get moisture past my dry throat. Say no. “I’m thinking that might be a good idea,” I said ignoring the voice of reason in my head and the pain of my swollen dick against my zipper. “Now sit forward so I can get this done. The sooner you’re out of my chair, the sooner I can get my dick under control.”

  “Maybe I could—”

  “Don’t even say it,” I said, sounding as frustrated as I felt. “Dane’s right. I need to get to work, and, woman”—I nipped her shoulder—“you’re a goddamn distraction.”

  She giggled, a sweet sound that I knew I’d heard before a long time ago. My gut tightened. “You think it’s funny I’m on the verge of blue balls because of you, Princess?”

  Her face was still in profile and I watched a smile curve her lips. It was shy, almost self-conscious. “A man like you, I thought you’d have more self-control,” she said, voice breathless.

  “What kind of man is that?” I asked and, shit, held my breath, waiting for her answer.

  She curled her lips in, biting down on them, then finally said, “A confident, extremely”—she blushed—“um…attractive man, who obviously has no trouble getting women, kind of man.”

  “Babe, I’m scarred up and kinda big. Most women are intimidated and run the other way.”

  “Gloria likes you,” she said, and I detected a hint of jealousy.

  I liked it.

  Jesus, I had a fucking problem.

  I snorted. “Gloria likes everyone.”

  She laughed again, not a giggle but just as pretty. “Your scars don’t make you less attractive. Granted, they make you seem a little more dangerous, but I have to admit, the whole rough-and-ready thing you have going on is working for me.”

  “I noticed.”

  She blushed darker.

  Oh yeah, she was taking a walk on the wild side with me, and even with what I’d had planned at the start of this, I kind of hated having that confirmed. I was good enough to fuck around with, but I’d never be the kind of man she’d get serious with.

  I shoved those useless thoughts from my mind and slid my hand down her back, the need to reassure her more important than anything else in that moment. “There’s nothing hotter than watching you come, Cassandra. Nothing. And, baby…these scars”—I leaned in and kissed her scarred shoulder—“don’t change how fucking gorgeous you are. I don’t see them…when I’m with you they sure as fuck don’t stop me…from wanting you. From making me so hard I can’t keep…my hands off you when you’re in the same room. And from stroking my cock…thinking about you when you’re not.”

  I couldn’t believe I got through that whole speech without too many stumbles, especially with my emotions all over the place, but I wanted her to know.

  We might have only been using each other—at the start, at least. But there was no denying it now. Cassy was not the woman I thought she was when she walked in here that first time. Not at all. I wanted her to know how special she was, and I hoped like hell she remembered it when the truth came out, when she learned who I was. When the heat in her eyes turned to hatred.

  Yeah, I should stop this, but it was too late now.

  For both of us.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cassandra

  “Earth to Ceecee.”

  I turned from my spot at the shop window. “Hmm?”

  “You’ve been staring out the window for the last half hour,” Ted said. “Something’s bothering you.”

  I forced a smile, but it wasn’t easy. I’d been turned down by a possible investor that morning, bringing it up to three “thank you, but no thank yous” so far. I was waiting to hear back on a few more possibilities, but it wasn’t looking good. “I’m fine. Can’t a girl just look out a window?”

  “Of course she can, but you’re not just looking out a window, are you? There’s something going on in that beautiful head of yours, and what I’m seeing on your face has me more than a little intrigued. Maybe I’ll get it out of you
after a few drinks?”

  I was already shaking my head.

  Ted wasn’t having any of it. “You owe me. You abandoned me at that gala, and I ended up going home with Becky the bartender.” He scowled. “And shit, turned out the foot fetish wasn’t the worst of it.”

  My brows shot up. “Foot fetish?”

  Ted leaned against the counter. “The woman spent most of the night making out with my toes. I’m scarred for life.”

  I straightened, eyes widening. “You can’t blame me for that! And what can possibly be worse?”

  He crossed his arms. “I already have blamed you. And what’s worse is she stole all my socks. What she plans to do with them doesn’t bear thinking about.”

  I started giggling.

  He smiled, trying to fight back his own laugh.

  “That is pretty weird,” I said through my chuckles.

  “No shit.” He narrowed his eyes on me. “Face it, you owe me. I never would’ve met the girl if it wasn’t for you. So now you’re going out with me for a few drinks, nothing crazy. If you don’t, I might be tempted to call Becky the bartender to relieve my boredom, and I can’t afford to replace all my socks again.”

  How could I say no to an argument like that? And maybe going out wasn’t such a terrible idea. My mind was in a jumble, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure a way to get out of my predicament. My father’s calls had become more insistent, and though it didn’t seem like it, the fact that he hadn’t just come to the guesthouse and camped out on the porch meant he was actually giving me space.

  He hadn’t shown up yet and demanded we talk, but I knew it would happen if I kept ignoring him.

  My father was a lot of things, and despite his recent failings, he was still a businessman. He knew if he pushed me too hard, his deal with Spencer would fall through. In other words, his only bargaining chip might abandon him to clean up the mess he’d made alone.

  And then there was Cal. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Today after our appointment, he’d said he wanted to see me again, and not just for a tattoo session. But then he’d gone into that quiet place he went to when he was tattooing and I’d gone inside myself to deal with the pain—the next thing I knew, Dane was there, telling Cal he had a client waiting.

  We hadn’t had a chance to make any plans, and since I hadn’t heard from him, I could only assume he was busy tonight or he’d changed his mind.

  Maybe he was seeing someone else.

  I spun toward Ted, not wanting to contemplate that possibility one more second, and smiled. “Let’s lock up and get out of here.”

  * * *

  Three hours later I was standing on a table in a bar in Springhaven, belting out the chorus to “Gimme Some Lovin’.” The bar had a Blues Brothers tribute band playing tonight. Ted was up there beside me, drink in hand. And Ross, Ted’s younger brother, also a good friend of mine, was there as well and had been buying us shots since we walked in.

  Ross handed us fresh drinks—tequila this time—and we all downed them. I screwed my face up and sucked the piece of lemon Ted handed me. I grabbed his collar and tugged him down so he’d hear me over the music.

  “Forget Foot Fetish Becky, you could take your pick tonight. You should have come without me. I’m cramping your style.”

  Ted slung an arm around my shoulders. “My sweet little Ceecee, I think you’ve had too many of those shots.”

  I tilted my head back and smirked at him. “Maybe I’m not so sweet.”

  He booped me on the nose and chuckled. “You’re as sweet as apple pie.”

  I grabbed the collar of my shirt and tugged it down so Ted could see the single rose on my right shoulder, the one I begged Cal to do after my confrontation with my father. I loved it.

  “You got ink!” Ted said, leaning in for a closer inspection.

  I crooked my finger at him to come closer still. He swayed toward me. “I’m kinda seeing the tattooist.”

  Ted’s eyes went wide. “You’re sleeping with him?”

  “Well, not yet, but we’ve done…stuff.”

  Ted jumped off the table, grabbed me around the waist, and lifted me off as well. “Who is this guy?”

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. Someone was calling me. Ignoring Ted, I tugged it out with some effort and checked the screen, expecting it to be my father or worse, Spencer. It wasn’t either.

  Cal.

  A flutter of excitement hit my belly as I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  There was a long silence. “Cassandra?”

  “Hey!” Maybe I yelled that a little too loud. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Hey.”

  Another pause. “Where are you?”

  “A bar.”

  “You drunk, Princess?”

  I did a quick assessment of my current state. “Um…yep. I’m definitely drunk.” I spun to Ted, eyes wide as I said to Cal, “Is this a booty call? I’ve never had one of those before.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Ted shouted over the band.

  “Who was that?” Cal said louder down the phone. “Who’s with you?”

  “Ted.”

  “Ted?”

  “Yep.” I was having trouble following the conversation with the music so loud and Ted pointing at the phone and mouthing who is it? “This place is full, and I can barely hear you, and Ross just bought me more shots. I gotta go.”

  “What’s the name of the bar, Cassandra?” he said, all deep and rumbly.

  I looked at a coaster. “Frank’s Tavern. Are you coming to see me?” More excited flutters.

  “Stay where you are. Don’t go anywhere until I get there, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said. Crap, my voice sounded kinda slurred.

  Cal muttered something, then said again, “Promise me, Cassy. Promise me you’ll stay put.”

  “Pinky promise.”

  “Shit,” he said and ended the call.

  A song I liked started, and I grabbed Ted’s hand and dragged him out to the dance floor. I didn’t know how long we were out there, but I was hot and sweaty and for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t thinking about anything but the next song, hoping that it’d be a good one so I could stay out there and get lost in the music.

  The beat was deep, and I felt it move through me from the soles of my feet, my legs, through my belly, and into my chest, making my heart pound with it. The floor was packed, and Ted and Ross had moved in on either side of me, fending off any unwanted advances like they did whenever we went out.

  Now I had one in front and one in back and we were laughing and doing some kind of three-way grind to the song. The dance floor was packed, and people were bumping into us, squishing me.

  I stepped to the side, out from between them, stumbled over my own feet, and collided with a wall. I turned back to Ted, giggling. Ted wasn’t laughing. He was looking at something in front of me, eyes wide. I spun around, and my head tilted waaay back.

  Not a wall.

  Cal.

  Looking angry. His eyes were narrowed and they were aimed at Ted and Ross.

  I tugged on his arm to say something, anything, so he’d stop looking at poor Ted like that.

  His chin dipped and he lowered his head, mouth going to my ear. “Ted?”

  “Yes.” He pulled back and looked at me, and I got a little lost in his dark eyes.

  “He was touching you,” he said, stating the obvious.

  I thought I might be frowning, but I couldn’t be sure. The room was kind of spinning. “Well, yeah, we were dancing.”

  “You were gonna fuck that guy, Princess?”

  The room might have been spinning, but I was in no doubt that my eyes were huge. “No! That’s Ted.”

  “Think we established that,” he said, low and gritty. “Him and his buddy…were rubbing up on you.”

  Was he…could he actually be jealous? “They’re my friends.”

  He lifted his head, looking at Ted who’d now moved closer, Ross behind him. The pair loo
ked like they were about to take on Goliath. I put up a hand and pressed it to Ted’s chest, tilted my head to the side, and mouthed, “This is the guy I was telling you about.”

  Ted’s mouth thinned and his gaze slid back to Cal.

  “Say goodbye,” Cal said against my ear. “I’m taking you home.”

  I did what I was told, because I wanted to go with him. He’d been on my mind all night, and now here he was.

  Ted’s hand shot out and he grabbed my arm, stopping me. “You sure you want to leave, Ceecee?”

  I nodded. “Don’t worry, I’m safe with Cal,” I said to my best friend.

  Cal’s hand squeezed mine tighter and his eyes dropped to where Ted was holding me. His nostrils flared.

  Ted didn’t look convinced. “How well do you know this guy?”

  I frowned. “Ted—”

  Ross moved up, lifted his phone, and snapped a picture of Cal and me, blinding us.

  Cal stiffened.

  “What was that?” I said, blinking against the flash spots in my eyes.

  “If he turns out to be a serial killer, we have a pic to give the cops,” he said to Ted.

  I glanced up at Cal, expecting him to be pissed, but instead, he looked kind of amused. “We all good here?” he said to Ted.

  Ted was a big guy, solidly built, but usually pretty easygoing. He looked more serious than I’d ever seen him. “Be careful with her,” Ted said.

  Cal stiffened again but then dipped his chin.

  I glanced between them both until Cal took my hand in his big rough-skinned one and led me through the club. I noted that people parted for him like he was a human bowling ball, scattering like pins to get out of his way.

  They saw the huge scarred exterior and thought they knew who he was. They didn’t. They had no idea what he hid beneath. Even I didn’t. But I knew what was there was oceans deep. You couldn’t paint the way he did and not have a storm raging inside you.