Blaze: Men of Inked Heatwave #4

by Bliss, Chelle

  “Inhale slow and deep, Jett, and you won’t feel a thing.”

  But she’s wrong…I feel it all.

  3

  Lily

  “Shut the fuck up.” Tamara covers her mouth as her hazel eyes widen. “You saw his penis?”

  I nod. “Touched it too.” The grin on my face has been there since the moment he staggered out of Inked yesterday, promising he wasn’t in too much pain and thanking me profusely for doing an amazing job.

  He didn’t cry like some men do when you jam a giant hollowed needle right through their shaft. The sound he made was somewhere between a moan and a growl, both sexy and scary at the same time.

  “You touched Jett Michaels’s cock?” Tamara asks again like she just can’t process what I’ve said.

  “Yep.” I stare at my beer bottle, scratching at the half-torn label down the front. I leave out the fact that it’s a work of art, thick and long and quite possibly the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen.

  My experience with dicks has been limited, outside of work. I’d always been too busy with school or too scared I’d get knocked up. While my college friends were at frat parties, drinking, and having fun, I kept my butt in my dorm, studying and staying out of trouble.

  “She’s going to touch a lot of dicks with her job,” Gigi says as she sits down at the table with us.

  I groan. “Don’t remind me.”

  To an outsider, seeing dicks every day sounds exciting, but when you’re putting holes in them, it kind of kills the fun. Most of the time, the man attached to said cock isn’t worth the time of day.

  “Lucky asshole.” Tamara shakes her head. “Jett Michaels,” she whispers like he’s a celebrity.

  “You want to know the weirdest thing of all?” I blurt out, wanting to stop talking about his beautiful cock.

  Tamara sobers for a moment, blinking at me like I’m insane, or at least lying. “There’s something weirder than you touching your high school crush’s junk?”

  “He wasn’t my crush,” I lie, earning me a glare from Tamara. “Fine. Fine. Maybe I liked him a little.”

  “A little.” Gigi laughs, elbowing Tamara. “Liar.”

  I don’t know why I’m lying. No one knows me better than Tamara and Gigi. While they always agreed he was hot, they didn’t have the same feelings about him I did. They said he was too much like a little brother and the very thought of kissing him made their skin crawl.

  “We’re not talking about how I felt about him, jerks,” I grumble, unable to look at them anymore.

  If I did, they’d see that I still have a crush on the man. Maybe even more so now than I did five years ago when he disappeared.

  “What’s the weirdest thing?” Gigi asks, knowing I’ve always been touchy about my feelings for him.

  I look at Tamara and then back to Gigi, fully aware they’re going to flip their shit when I tell them. I brace myself, placing my hands on the table, because it’s about to get loud. “He asked me to move in with him.”

  Gigi blinks, her head jerking back like she heard me wrong. “He what?”

  Tamara tilts her head, gawking at me like she’s trying to translate my words because I’d just spoken in a different language. “Say that again.”

  “He asked me to move in with him.” The words still seem foreign coming off my lips. I’ve repeated the moment when he said those words over and over again since he walked out the door.

  Why me? That was my biggest question. Why would the Jett Michaels want to live with me? I’m boring. I embrace that fact about myself. I’ve never tried to be something I’m not.

  Tamara turns her head and stares at Gigi. “Did I hear her right?”

  Gigi shrugs. “If you heard he wants her to move in with him, then yeah.”

  “Did she hear him right?” Tamara asks, rubbing her forehead and crinkling her nose. “I mean, there’s a high probability she didn’t because this is party-animal, manwhore Jett Michaels and good-girl, bookworm Lily Gallo we’re talking about.”

  They’re talking about me like I’m not even here. Or maybe they think I’m delusional and made up the entire conversation.

  But I know.

  I know what he asked me. I was just as shocked as they are now, but I was good at hiding my disbelief.

  I glare at them, flipping them each a middle finger. “I heard him right.”

  Tamara gives me her full attention, and she’s no longer laughing. “What were his exact words?”

  “‘We should move in together. We can share the rent and be roommates,’” I repeat his words verbatim. They’re burned in my brain, playing on repeat because even I can’t believe he said them to me…still.

  They both blink at me like they have something in their eyes they’re trying to work out.

  “He…” Tamara’s mouth opens and closes as she stares at me in disbelief. “He…”

  “Holy shit,” Gigi whispers. “He really said that?”

  “Yeah.” I glance down to my bottle to avoid their gazes. “But of course, I won’t. I mean, can you imagine what it would be like to live with someone like him?”

  There’s nothing but silence. Something there never is when Gigi and Tamara are in the same room. These two can talk nonstop about everything, and they never seem to run out of things to say either. But now, they’re suddenly speechless.

  I peer up, still picking at the label on my beer, as they stare at me like I have two heads. “What?”

  Tamara crosses her arms, shaking her head like she can’t believe I’m going to say no to him. “If you don’t say yes and get on that man, I’m going to beat you.”

  “Do it,” is all I get from Gigi.

  “It would be awful.” I’m trying to convince myself more than them. “It wouldn’t be good.”

  Gigi moves her hand to my forearm, giving me a light squeeze. “What wouldn’t be good?”

  “Where do you want me to start?” I roll my eyes and sigh. “Living with a man. Living with Jett, specifically. I mean, imagine if he brings home a date and I have to listen to them…” My voice trails off, and I grimace, thinking about him having sex with some woman in the bedroom next to mine.

  Tamara taps her long fingernails against the tabletop, and I can almost hear the wheels spinning in her head. She’s coming up with a plan. A plan for something I’m not going to follow through on. “Hmmm. Maybe you need to make rules. Set boundaries. Like, no women at your place if you’re home.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, like that’ll work.”

  “You’re right, babe. You can just keep going back and forth between crashing on our couch and staying with your parents,” Gigi says, knowing exactly what to say to remind me I hate living at home. “I know your parents love having you around.”

  I loathe living with my parents again. They’re great people and even better parents, but they treat me like I’m still in high school. I have a curfew, and they feel the need to know where I am at every moment, day or night. It’s suffocating, especially after being on my own for over three years.

  Tamara checks her phone, smiling when she sees a waiting text. “Mammoth’s almost here. When are we headed out?”

  “Can’t we just stay in?” I groan, hating parties because there’re always too many cool kids and I never fit in.

  Gigi stands from the table, taking the beer from my hands that I’ve been nursing for an hour. “I already told everyone to meet at nine. Jett’s supposed to be here any minute too, and then we can head out. We’re not canceling tonight. So, put on some makeup, change your clothes, and be ready to go as soon as your roommate arrives.”

  “He’s not my roommate,” I grumble, rubbing the meaty part of my palms into my eyes.

  Gigi barely even looks at me as she cleans the kitchen, tossing our almost empty containers of Chinese takeout. “Either way, get your sweet ass moving, babe. We have to celebrate Jett’s return, and that includes you.”

  “Why?”

  Gigi glances up, narrowing her eyes at me. “Be
cause you’re one of us. And anyway, since when do you ever pass up a chance to stare at Jett Michaels?”

  “When I was sixteen.”

  Tamara pulls on my arm, trying to get me to stand. “I’ll do your makeup. We’ll make Jett want to be more than roommates.”

  I yank my arm out of her grip and sit back down. “We’ll never be more than roommates. Hell, we’re not even friends, Tam.”

  “We’re going to change that tonight. You got a rockin’ bod underneath those frumpy clothes you’re always wearing. If we put a tight little dress on you, do up your makeup and hair, he’ll have to see you as something more…”

  “Fuckable?” Gigi adds, giggling.

  “I don’t want to fuck him.” It’s a lie. I’ve dreamed of the moment when Jett would undress me, peppering my body with kisses.

  “Uh-huh. Sure.” Tamara pulls on my arm again, not taking no for an answer. “Either way, we’re sexing you up a little.”

  “I look nice,” I argue, tipping my head down to stare at my outfit.

  I’m never one to be overly “done up.” My khakis and frilly tank top, which doesn’t show my breasts, are about as dressy as I get, preferring my comfy leggings and oversized T-shirt.

  She steps back and releases my hand, eyes moving over my outfit. “You cannot wear that to a bonfire.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Khakis.” Tamara scrunches her nose like the word alone offends her. “You’re not an insurance salesman or a librarian. You need something a little more…daring.”

  There’s a knock on the door, and we all turn our heads, staring at the slab of wood.

  “I bet that’s Jett. You better get moving before he sees you like that,” Gigi says, walking toward the door.

  “Looking like what?” I ask defensively.

  Gigi doesn’t stop moving and doesn’t even turn around before she gets in her last dig. “Like you’re about to do his taxes and not his dick.”

  “I hate you both,” I grumble under my breath as Gigi places her eye against the peephole.

  “It’s Jett,” she whispers. “Last chance before he sees you like that.”

  “I fucking hate you both so much,” I mutter again before sliding out of the chair, almost running down the hallway as Gigi reaches for the doorknob.

  I know it shouldn’t matter. I have no shot with Jett. Never have and never will. We’re friends at best, and even that’s a stretch. Besides yesterday at the shop, if we’ve said one hundred words to each other in our lifetime, it would be generous. I watched from afar, while he barely knew I existed.

  I stand in Tamara’s room, watching her root through her closet, talking to herself. “Put these on.” She throws a pair of jean shorts at me, hitting me square in the face. “They’ll make your ass look great.”

  I peel the shorts away from my eyes and turn to look at my behind in the full-length mirror on her wall. “My ass looks great in these.”

  Tamara blinks at me, lips flat. “No one’s ass looks good in khakis.” She shakes her head and blows out a long, loud breath. “And I mean, no one.”

  I don’t care what she says, my ass does look good in these pants. “Whatever.” I roll my eyes.

  “Take them off. We can use them as kindling tonight.”

  “You will not,” I tell her, unfastening the button before sliding down the zipper. “These are my favorite pair.”

  She snorts. “Only you would have a favorite pair of khakis.”

  I stick out my tongue before yanking down my pants and stepping out of them. I fold them neatly and place them on her bed, giving her the side-eye the entire time because I don’t trust her not to snatch them.

  “Underwear too.”

  I gaze up, eyes wide because she can’t be serious. “What?”

  “You’ll be picking your ass all night in those shorts if you wear underwear. Leave your cotton kid panties here with the pants. Trust me.”

  “But I’ve never…” I stand there, staring at her with one foot in the shorts, frozen and unsure what to do. “I always wear underwear.”

  “Fine, but I warned you.”

  That’s all she says. Victory is mine. Although I’m not happy about the shorts, at least I don’t have to worry about the world seeing my vagina every time I sit down or bend over.

  Her jean shorts fit snugly, and I turn, getting a glimpse at the difference with my ass. I make a face as soon as I notice the very bottom of my ass cheeks peeking out from the hem.

  “Better, right?” she asks, staring at my reflection in the mirror and totally checking out my ass.

  “They’re all right,” I lie and bend over, cringing when I see my pink panties. There goes bending in any natural way because there’s no way in hell I’m leaving this apartment without them on.

  “Here.” She throws me a black top, and this time, I catch the damn thing before she can hit me with another piece of clothing. “No bra, though.”

  Holding up the scrap of material, I gawk at it. “There’s nothing here, Tamara.”

  She waggles her eyebrows. “That’s why you can’t wear a bra.”

  “What the hell?” I blink, still staring at the top. “I can’t wear this in public.” My nose scrunches all on its own because sheesh, there’s barely anything to this top.

  She places her hand on her hip, lifting her shoulder and giving me tons of attitude without even having to say a word. “You want Jett to notice you?”

  “No.”

  “Liar.”

  “I don’t. We’re not even friends.” Half my statement is the truth. We’re not friends, but do I want him to notice me? Maybe. I don’t know. I try to stay in my lane, and Jett Michaels is not even on my roadmap.

  “For once in your life, act your age and have a little fun. If you don’t catch his eye in that outfit, you never will.”

  “I could walk around naked, and he wouldn’t notice me,” I grumble, lifting my shirt over my head and glaring at Tamara. “We both know it’s true without me having to embarrass myself tonight.”

  “Why bother with clothes, then? It’s just us. Walk out there with your tits out, and we’ll find out.”

  “I never knew I could hate you more, but I do.”

  She giggles and slaps my ass as I turn my back to her to take off my bra. “You love me, and after you snag Jett, you can thank me.”

  I cover my breasts with my arm as I reach for the top. “I can’t snag him. And anyway, he has a fresh piercing. He can’t…you know.”

  “Fuck. I forgot.” She slaps herself on the forehead. “Doesn’t mean he can’t please you, though.”

  “I don’t do that. I’m not like…”

  “Like me?” she says, finishing my statement.

  “I didn’t mean that in a bad way, babe. I’ve just never fooled around with someone unless we were committed.”

  She grimaces. “How many men have you actually slept with?”

  “Actually sleep?” I ask quietly.

  “No, Lily,” she groans. “How many guys have you fucked?”

  My head snaps back like she’s slapped me with her vulgar language. “Well, I…” God, I don’t want to tell her this. I’ve always skirted the issue with her and Gigi when they were talking about men. Going to a different college, I found it easy to hide my relationships—or should I say, the lack of any men in my life. But now she’s putting me on the spot. “None,” I whisper.

  Her eyes widen, and her mouth drops open. “For real?”

  “Yes.” I give her a weak smile. “I just never found anyone worth giving my virginity to.” I shrug and realize I’m half naked because my breasts make a surprise appearance from behind my arm.

  “But you’ve touched so many dicks since you started at Inked.” Now she’s whispering. “How is that possible?”

  “I was studying to be a doctor. And it’s not like I’ve never seen a penis before, I’ve just never…you know.” I waggle my eyebrows, the universal sign for getting freaky without having to say t
he words.

  “Oh, girl. We’ve got to change this and fast.”

  “No, we don’t.” I lift my chin, hating when she tries to run my life. It’s bad enough I’m letting her pick out my outfit; I won’t let her decide when and who gets in my vagina too.

  “Whatever you say, Lil. It’s your pussy.”

  Yanking the tube top over my head, I let the bra fall to the floor and quickly cover my breasts. “It’ll happen when it happens. You’re you, and I love that you do whatever makes you happy. But I’m also me, and I don’t sleep around. No offense.”

  She sits down on the edge of the bed and lifts her hands. “None taken.”

  “How do I look?” I ask her, pulling up the tube top to hide my cleavage but making my belly show.

  “I’d fuck you,” she giggles.

  “I seriously hate you.”

  “Sit,” she tells me, grabbing her makeup bag off the dresser. “This will only take a minute.”

  I sit in silence, glaring at her as she applies eyeshadow, telling me it’s the perfect smoky eye, before applying lipstick and mascara.

  She grabs my hand and starts to pull me toward the door. “Come on. Let’s see what Jett thinks.”

  I try to yank my hand out of her grasp, but damn it, she’s so much stronger than me. I can’t yell or make a big deal out of it because Jett would hear and I’d sound like a bigger weirdo than I already am.

  “Here we are,” Tamara says in the sweetest tone. “Did you miss us?”

  I inch out behind her as her hand falls away. The smile on my face is forced and painful. All I want to do is run in the back, throw on my khakis, and rush out of here. But then I’d be a coward, and if Jett thought I was odd before, it would be nothing compared to what he’d think after I pulled a stunt like that.

  “Hey, Tamara,” Jett says, not even looking in my direction as he approaches.

  “Hey, sugar.” She grabs his forearms, giving them a good squeeze before kissing his cheek. “Sorry we’re late. Lily and I had to finish getting ready.”

  That’s when it happens. Jett glances over, his eyes flash, and I see the spark of something I’ve never seen before…possibility.