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He stares at me for a beat before his head moves closer. For a second I think he’s going to kiss me, but then he moves to the side, so his lips brush my ear.

“I’m not letting you run so easily this time.”

I try to swallow, but there’s something clogging my throat.

“Come on.” He doesn’t allow me to argue. Instead, he tugs me toward his room, giving me no choice but to follow.

He shuts the door behind him, and I find myself in an almost identical room to the reception, only instead of a couch there’s a tattoo chair. Artwork still covers the walls, and in my need to look away from him, to break what’s crackling between us, I focus on it.

My eyes flick over the incredible work before landing on something very familiar. I remember tracing this heart engulfed in flames last night. It’s on his chest. I reach out to run my finger over it, but his words stop me.

“I thought I was going to have to work harder to find you again. You really are making it easy for me.”

“I had no idea you’d be here.”

“Really?” he asks, his voice accusatory, making me turn to look at him.

His eyes are wide with suspicion, but they’re also full of heat. My cheeks flush, my temperature soaring, but that’s not the most noticeable thing. That’s the desire that races through me, begging me to give him another shot.

My hands continue to tremble as my head and body war over what I should do. My head says leave, but my legs refuse, and I stay exactly where I am.

“W-why would I know you were here?” I ask, confused. Clearly, last night’s whisky is still having an effect, because it should be obvious.

“My job isn’t a secret, Harlow. Most people here know what I do.”

The image of Brooke so helpfully giving me this address pops into my mind.

She fucking knew.

“I’ve been set up, haven’t I?”

“I don’t know. But I’m glad to see you.” His expression softens, giving me little choice but to believe him.

“Really? Why?”

He takes a step toward me and doesn’t stop until I bump up against the wall and he’s right in my personal space. His woodsy scent fills my nose, and the heat from his wide chest burns into me.

“Because we have unfinished business.”

“D-do we?” I thought my actions this morning would have drawn a line under anything between us. Maybe I was wrong.

“I woke up this morning with one thing on my mind. But when I opened my eyes, you weren’t there.”

His eyes search mine. I have no idea what he’s trying to find, or if he manages it or not. To be honest, I think I’d rather not know.

“Our time was done.”

“Huh,” he says, taking a step back and turning away from me. “I thought maybe I’d left a little more of an impression on you than that.”

I miss his closeness the second the cool air surrounds my body.

“It was what it was,” I admit, regret flooding me.

“An hour or so ago, I was on my way to believing that. But now here you are. Do you believe in fate, Harlow?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, we clearly aren’t done, are we? Now, you came here for a reason, and I’m more than happy to give you what you need. Hop up on the chair.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I … um … I’m not sure about …”

“Do you know what you want?”

“Y-yes but?—”

“Do you have a reason for it?”

“Yes.”

“A reason good enough that you’d never regret it being permanently on your skin?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, hop on,” he repeats.

I take a hesitant step toward his chair as he drops down onto a little wheeled stool. His jeans stretch across his wide thighs before his inked arms rest on his knees as he waits for me to make a decision.

I’ve wanted this tattoo for years. I know I’d never regret it. But one, I’m scared of the pain, and two, I’m even more scared of the man who might deliver it.

“Jesus, Harlow, it’s like I’ve just committed you to the death sentence. I’m not going to force this thing on you. I’ve got plenty of other uses for this chair, you know.”

I run my eyes over the black leather and picture myself laid out on it while he … Nope, stop it. Those kinds of thoughts are not going to help right now.

I sit on the edge, as far away from him as possible. He chuckles at my attempt to keep some space between us and rolls himself over until his knees cage my legs in.

He drops his hand to a lever beneath his ass and lifts, so our eyes are in line.

“So, what did you have in mind?”

My breath catches at his deep, rumbling voice. He almost makes me forget my reason for coming here in the first place.

“I’ve … um … got a drawing.”

“You really have planned this.”

“It’s been some time coming,” I admit. “I’m scared of needles, so I usually run out of the studio before I get that close.”

“It’s probably nothing like you’re expecting.” His large, burning hand lands on the bare skin of my thigh. “I can’t promise that it won’t hurt. But I’ve got ways of making up for it after.” His hand pushes higher.

Desire burns through me, and I have to bite back the suggestion of forgetting the tattoo so he can just distract me instead.

No, Harlow. Not again.

What is it about this man that makes me forget everything I’ve tried so hard to overcome and throw myself head-first back into a life I regret?

It’s not the same. You are not the same. He wants you, and not just for a quick fuck. Brooke’s voice pops into my head.

“What do you want from me?” The question is out before I even realize it. Embarrassment burns my cheeks as his eyes widen in shock.

“I … uh …” He hesitates as he tries to figure out where I’m going with this. “Honestly,” he says, holding my stare, “right now, I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.”