Full Contact
Page 7

Shoulders slumping, I nod. “I’ll do it, but Jess won’t be pleased. She was pretty sure I’d like her blind date pick of the week. He’s a fireman.”
Rose perks up. “I’m free. I’ll tell him I’m you, but with a boob job, an extra couple of inches in height, and about fifty extra pounds.”
Laughing, she helps me collect my equipment, and we head back into the shop. But when I see who is in my chair, I freeze.
As all prey do when they catch sight of a predator.
Chapter 3
You like the fish?
Oh. My. God. The Predator is sitting in my chair.
“What’s the matter?” Rose grabs my elbow to steady me. “You know that guy?”
“He’s my fantasy man,” I whisper. “Except he stepped out of the fantasy on the weekend and it totally threw me off. He mentioned he needed a cover, but I didn’t think he was serious.”
Rose raises an eyebrow. “He looks serious to me. Maybe you’re his fantasy woman.”
“He has a girlfriend.”
“The good ones always do.” Rose gives my arm a sympathetic squeeze and then makes a show of placing my equipment on my workstation, which involves much bending over and a significant threat of chest overexposure.
“Hey, Ray. What’s up?” I feign nonchalance, like men I have lusted over for the last year always show up at my studio at seven o’clock on a Saturday night wearing commando pants that are tight in all the right places and a kick-ass Affliction T-shirt stretched tight over rippling abs. Keeping my back to him, I manage to straighten my equipment without dropping anything and then stand awkwardly beside the chair, only inches away from his muscular forearm.
Ray’s gaze travels over my body, from the pink streak in my hair I just added this morning, to my boobs, miraculously enlarged with a strategically padded bra and a two-sizes-too-small tank top, then down to my Jack Daniels belt buckle, over my leather-pant clad hips, and back up again. By the time he’s done with his perusal, I’m sweating, horny, and ready to push him back in the chair and tear off his clothes.
“You done?” I lift an admonishing eyebrow, but Ray just smiles.
“Fucking awesome ink.” He traces a finger up my arm, following the vines that extend from my wrist to my shoulder. His touch is electric. I bite back a whimper as every nerve ending in my body fires at once. His voice has a rasp that makes me think about sex. Rip-off-my-clothes, toss-me-on-the-bed, fuck-me-till-I-scream sex.
“Slim did it.” I gesture toward Slim as he heads to the back of the shop. “He can do you. Tat-wise, I mean. Now. ’Cause he’s free. He just went back to sterilize his equipment.” I slam my lips shut. Could I possibly sound more like an idiot?
Ray frowns.
“Or not.” Inwardly cringing at my lack of social skills, I cut myself off and vow never to speak again.
Ray picks up my portfolio from the cart on his other side and thumbs through it. “Saw your work when I asked around at Redemption. Decided you should be the one to cover me.”
My heart hammers in my chest so hard I think I might break a rib. Ink Ray? Put my hands on that magnificent body? Although I have dreamed about it, even designed a tattoo for him in my head, seeing him in my chair now, I know I won’t be able to do it. He unnerves me. Arouses me. My hands will shake too much to hold the tattoo machine. I’d probably ruin that beautiful skin for life.
“Actually, I…uh…was about to leave. But like I said, Slim’s free. Or Duncan.”
Ray tilts his head to the side and his eyes soften. “I want you.”
Burn, cheeks, burn. “I’m sorry…I have…uh…plans.” I should just tell him I’m going to a party, or that my bestie has set me up with her sister’s best friend’s cousin’s wife’s brother, and that I really shouldn’t miss it because I only go out with people who can be vouched for by people I know and I’m running out of inventory. I could also easily tell him the date will go nowhere because they never do. But for some reason the words don’t come out.
His eyes narrow. “Changeable plans?”
“Personal plans,” I say, trying to hide my desperate need to get him out of my chair before I throw myself on him in a frenzy of lust or, worse, actually agree to do his ink. “And really, it would be better if you come back tomorrow, when I have time to discuss what you need and draw up a few designs. I don’t want to do a half-assed job.”
“Hot date?” Ray carefully places my portfolio back on the cart and folds his arms across his delectable chest.
I suck in a sharp breath. “I didn’t say I had a date.”
He gives me a smug look. “You didn’t have to. You have a very expressive face and your body language says you’re trying to hide something.” He taps my folded arms. “The likely explanation is a date, and you don’t want me to know about it.” His lips curl into a sensual smile. “Why don’t you want me to know about your date?”
Damn. Caught out. Me and my expressive face. This is exactly why I always got Tag to steal the cookies when we were growing up. I twist my ring around my finger and press my lips together as my temper starts to rise. “Maybe I’m planning to rob a bank or steal a car and go joyriding. Maybe I’m working a pole at a local strip joint. Or maybe I’m just meeting my bestie for a burger. There are hundreds of things I could be doing tonight.”
“Definitely a date then. What’s his name?”