Page 30 of Candy Hearts, Vol. 2

CHAPTER 3

KOBE

While I’d thought my brother owed me beers, it turns out that I may owe my brother beers… for life. His setup game is strong, and the longer I spend getting to know Malik, the more I appreciate my brother’s done me a solid.

Malik is fun. The conversation hasn’t stopped flowing, and the whole two hours we’ve been in the bar, his attention hasn’t wavered. It’s heady, being the center of his attention. The man’s flirt game is on point, his interest right there for me to see, and fuck if he doesn’t have the prettiest brown eyes.

“So what kind of tattoo do you think would suit me?”

I curl my lips up into a smile. The question is cliché as fuck, but funnily enough, coming from Malik, I don’t mind it one bit. That he’s been genuinely interested in me telling him about my time studying and working in Japan makes me think he’s not just paying lip service.

“You’re interested in getting ink?” I rake my gaze over him. His arms are completely exposed. The expanse of brown skin on display looks soft, even pulled tight over strong, defined muscles. Honestly, he’s a perfect blank canvas, and fuck if the thought of putting my needle to him doesn’t get me hard.

“For a while now.”

My focus returns to his face, our gazes connecting. That he’s telling the truth sends a pulse of desire through me. Right alongside the fresh wave of need, I consider the limited things I’ve discovered him.

He can hold his own on the basketball court (I may not like the game, but I know a good player when I see one). His folks are still together, like my own parents are, and they live in Naperville. He’s the youngest of three brothers and plans to be the first in his family to graduate from college. It’s something he’s proud of. And the way he talks about his family, it’s clear they mean the world to him. His brothers paved the way, always looking out for him—his one brother a cop, the other a mechanic—but he’s determined to carve his own path, and he’s doing just that.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Malik continues, his voice smooth, deep, and deliberate. “I want something that matters, though. Something that reminds me of where I came from and what I’m pushing for.” He lifts his glass to his lips, taking a slow sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact. The intensity there is magnetic.

I lean back, smirking as I toss him a playful look. “Oh, so you’re one of those deep thinkers, huh?”

He chuckles, his laughter warm and rich. “Gotta be, right? I mean, tattoos last forever, don’t they?”

“They sure do.” I trace the rim of my glass, feeling the buzz of the conversation, the weight of the attraction simmering between us. “What’s important to you, Malik? What’s the thing you’d want to carry with you, inked onto your skin?”

He pauses for a moment, his expression softening, his playful demeanor shifting into something more serious. “My family,” he says, almost reverently. “I owe them everything. Especially my mom. She’s the glue that holds us together. Strongest person I know. And my dad, my brothers, they’ve all pitched in with my college fund. Made sure I’ve got enough money so I can eat every week.”

The way he says it, the way his voice drops with emotion, hits me in the chest. It’s not just words. It’s the kind of truth that leaves a mark. He’s not just about basketball or parties or any of the surface-level shit people think about college guys. There’s depth there. Passion. Loyalty.

I lean forward, closing the space between us, my voice lowering with purpose. “I could design something for you. Something that’s all about your family, what they mean to you. It’d be one hell of a way to carry them with you, no matter where you go next.”

He smiles, and fuck if I don’t want to lean in further, want to see where this night could go. “You’re serious?” he asks, eyebrow raised in genuine surprise.

“Of course. This isn’t just about throwing some random ink on you, Malik. If we’re doing this, it’s going to be personal. Meaningful. And honestly—” I grin, leaning in just a little closer. “—I think you’d look pretty damn good with it.”

His smile widens, a hint of something mischievous glinting in his eyes. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

The tension between us has been building steadily since we sat down in this bar, and now it feels like it’s about to snap. My brother’s somewhere in the background, but he’s long since left us to it, and I’m grateful. Malik’s all I can focus on right now.

I set my glass down deliberately, locking eyes with him. “You know,” I start, my voice low, “I’ve got a room booked at the hotel just down the street. Maybe we can keep this conversation going somewhere quieter.”

For a moment, he studies me, the playfulness in his gaze mingling with something deeper, something more charged. His eyes flick down to my lips, and a thrill races through me.

“I think I’d like that,” he says, his voice smooth but carrying a hint of that unspoken desire. It travels along my skin before sinking deeper.

I stand up, grabbing my jacket, and he follows suit, towering over me with his lean, athletic build. I remember not to be a complete asshole and shoot Jackson a text, letting him know I’m leaving.

The air between us crackles as we walk out of the bar together. As we head toward the hotel, our hands brush, and even that small touch feels electric. It’s hard to focus and remember how to put one foot in front of the other. My offer to design something is genuine, but there’s no mistaking what the current zapping between us is.

I just hope we can make the short walk to the hotel without me hooking a hand around his waist and pulling him into the shadows before letting him know I’d do an even better job of creative thinking with his hard cock in my mouth, if that’s what he wants.