Page 10 of Inked Desires

ANDREW

“You're not getting in that thing,” Ares says, nodding toward my car.

I roll my eyes and open the passenger door to toss my backpack onto the seat. “Don’t diss my car. She took me all the way from South Dakota to Wisconsin.”

“And that’s already a miracle,” he shoots back.

I glance at the white Honda Civic. Sure, it’s only three years older than I am, but that’s no reason to send it to the scrapyard. If we followed that logic, I should’ve been turned into sausage a long time ago.

“No one should drive a car older than they are—and falling apart at that.”

“She is not falling apart!” I exclaim, indignant. “She might be a clunker, but she saved my life.”

“The hood is covered in rust, Andrew,” he insists. “You’re not driving that car.”

I take a deep breath. I’m a grown-ass man. I can make my own decisions. It was already a lot to let him talk me into giving up my room at the boarding house. But my car? No. I refuse to become dependent on him.

“Try and stop me,” I mutter, irritated, slamming the door and walking around the car.

I feel like a spineless kid. Not only have I broken every rule I made for myself, now I’m letting him decide for me again.

I sigh and open the driver’s side door, but before I can sit, strong arms wrap around me from behind.

“Do me a favor and don’t get in that wreck,” he whispers in my ear.

His warm breath brushes my earlobe, sending shivers down my spine. His body’s vibrations seep into mine, and every argument dies in my throat.

It’s completely unfair. He can’t just weaponize his body like that! The worst part is—my own body reacts to him like a damn heat-seeking missile.

I struggle against his hold until I can finally turn and meet his eyes. A light scruff shadows his jaw, making him even more irresistible. But it’s his gaze that gets me today. The darkness he always carries is still there—but somehow, lighter.

“I already gave up my room. But the car? That’s non-negotiable. She’s my baby.”

“Fine. Drive ahead. I’ll follow—just in case it breaks down or catches fire,” he sighs.

I raise an eyebrow, suspicious. That was way too easy. After all that fuss, he gives up just like that?

“What?” he asks.

“I don’t get you,” I admit.

A smile tugs at his lips. It’s not the first time he’s smiled today, but it still knocks the air from my lungs. He’s undeniably hot, but when he flashes that cocky grin, he becomes lethal. He’s so damn beautiful it hurts.

“That’s the point, little rabbit,” he teases before stepping away from the roof of my car and heading to his Wrangler.

I shake my head, but I can’t help watching him go, eyes trailing his body until he finally climbs into his car.

I slide into my seat with a sigh. Since meeting Ares, I’ve completely lost control of myself. And that’s not good. Not at all. In fact, it’s dangerous—because I can feel something taking root inside me, something that has no place in a fugitive’s life.

The engine growls to life. I can almost picture Ares’s grimace behind me. My old clunker is loud and slow, but she’s never failed me. I pull out onto the road. From the boarding house, the tattoo studio isn’t far. Then again, nothing is really far in Maple Creek.

The old lady at the boarding house was disappointed I was leaving, but her eyes lit up the moment she saw Ares with me. That’s when I learned he’s her most loyal customer... for her cheesecakes.

What worries me most is living under another man’s roof again. Depending on someone else. That’s also why, this morning, after that mind-blowing sex, I started a fight. My flight reflex had kicked in. But I didn’t leave. I spilled everything I’d been holding back—things I never meant to say out loud. Now the secret’s out. How long can I stay by his side before telling him the rest? Before he’s in danger too?

No one is safe from Jace or his men. I can’t let Ares get dragged into that. But by staying in Maple Creek, I’m already putting him at risk.

And I’m selfish enough not to care. To stay. To stay where he is. He’d probably find some sweet guy to keep him warm—but I don’t want that. I don’t want anyone else touching him the way I do.

Ares lit a spark in me. He showed me that sex could be more than just need. With him, it was overwhelming. I’m not sure I can live without that again.

I park in front of the studio and wait for him to pull in behind me. Then I get out, grab my bag, and lock the car. It’s hard to imagine anyone would want to steal this hunk of junk, but better not tempt fate. That rusty beast is my lifeline if I ever need to run.

“I still can’t believe that’s all you’ve got,” Ares says, eyeing my bag.

I hold the door open for him as we walk into the studio, then close it behind us. We don’t open for another half hour—clients will have to wait, if any even show up today. He wasn’t lying: summer is slow.

“It’s all I could grab at the time,” I admit.

No point lying. He’s seen and heard too much already. And Ares... he connects the dots quickly.

He nods beside me and heads toward the kitchen. I drag my feet behind him.

“Is he looking for you?” he asks, fiddling with the coffee machine.

I glance out the window. Looks like we’re not done with this topic today.

“Probably.”

He nods again and presses a button twice.

“Would it be bad if he found you?”

I see what he’s doing. He’s trying to get information slowly, gently. But I have to be even more careful—because talking to him is so damn easy.

“You’re way more talkative since we had sex,” I say, deflecting.

He turns from the machine, clearly not surprised, and leans back against the counter, watching me.

“I trust you a little more now,” he answers bluntly. “I don’t talk much because people can’t handle the truth. But you haven’t run yet.”

I walk over to a chair and rest my hands on the back. I get where he’s coming from. People prefer pretty lies. When things get ugly, they don’t know how to handle it.

“I’d rather know I’m dealing with an asshole upfront... than find out too late.”

My voice comes out bitter. But it’s the truth.

“You think I’m an asshole?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Sometimes,” I reply, tilting my head slightly as I study him.

His smile widens, almost enough to show teeth.

“Well, this asshole is taking you shopping,” he says, stepping closer and pulling an envelope from his back pocket. He holds it out to me. “It’s payday.”

Surprised, I take it and open it immediately. Inside are four hundred dollars. I stare at him, stunned.

“Four hundred for one week?”

“It’s your salary,” he confirms.

My shoulders drop. That’s way too much for a front desk guy at a tattoo shop—especially one working under the table.

“You’re paying me that much because we slept together,” I say flatly.

There’s no other explanation. It feels like a bonus for warming his bed. I thought he liked me. What a fool I was to believe it.

“You think I pay for sex?” he growls.

“How else do you explain that amount?”

“I don’t need to pay to get laid,” he snaps. “When I want someone, I get them. Supply far exceeds demand, sweetheart. The shop does well, so I can afford to pay you fairly.”

He turns toward the coffee maker and pours himself a cup with an annoyed sigh.

“I don’t feel like shopping anymore,” he mutters before leaving the kitchen without another word. “Go by yourself.”

Shit. I fucked up again. My trust issues pissed him off, and I don’t know how to fix it. But that’s how I am. It’s always easier to expect the worst than hope for the best.

I toss the envelope onto the table and slump into a chair, burying my head in my hands. Why is adult life so damn complicated?

I almost catch myself missing the days with Jace. I wasn’t allowed to have opinions. He scheduled everything for me. All I had to do was exist. No need to think. No choices to make. I sigh, rubbing my forehead, then drop my hands and stare at the envelope.

“Whatever,” I mutter into the empty room and pull the money out.

Shopping doesn’t sound so bad after all. I do need more T-shirts and underwear. And it'll give me time to come up with an apology.

I head down Main Street. There probably aren’t a lot of shops around here, but I spotted a couple of clothing stores earlier. I don’t need anything fancy. Simple clothes will do. Better to stay under the radar.

A bell rings as I push open the door. A young woman is behind the register, glued to her phone. She doesn’t even look up, and I’m fine with that.

I browse through the racks and find three black T-shirts that match my current “blend-in-and-stay-quiet” vibe. No need to try them on. They look about the right size. Even if they’re a bit big, it doesn’t matter.

I bring them to the counter and wait patiently for the blonde to notice me.

“Hi,” I say to get her attention.

She finally puts her phone down and looks up.

“You’re the new guy, right?” she asks, skipping any sort of greeting.

I just nod.

“I heard you work for Ares,” she goes on, without pause.

I just wanted to buy a few damn shirts. Why do I get the feeling this is about to go sideways?

“Yeah,” I eventually reply.

“Has he fucked you yet?”

I look up from the shirts.

“Who wants to know?”

“So, you did.” She smirks. “Careful, sweetheart. He’s not the serious type.”

A pulse starts pounding behind my eyes, and I rub my forehead with my fingers. Can this day get any weirder?

“And how exactly do you know that?” I ask, annoyed.

She finally starts scanning the tags—but takes her time doing it.

“We’ve all been there,” she says with a smug little smile. “That’ll be fifty-eight bucks.”

I resist the urge to wipe that grin off her face. Instead, I slap down sixty dollars.

“Keep the change. And for the record—Ares and I live together,” I say, like I’m marking my damn territory.

Might as well go piss on the studio too while I’m at it. The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Ares doesn’t belong to me. I’ve got no right to be mad.

I grab the shirts and walk out, slamming the door behind me. My urge to shop is officially dead.

When I step back into the studio, I close the door a little harder than necessary.

“What’s got your boxers in a twist?”

I jump and spin around. It’s just Kiran, arms crossed, leaning in the tattoo room doorway.

“One of Ares’s ex-skanks,” I mutter, heading for the front desk, unsure if I’m mad at myself, at Ares, or that damn salesgirl.

He chuckles. I take a deep breath and shoot him a glare.

“Which one?”

“No idea. I don’t know anyone,” I snap, pulling my chair closer to the desk. “But next time, I’ll ask Ares for a guided tour. Apparently, he knows everyone in this town… intimately.”

“That’s not exactly fair,” another voice cuts in.

Ares walks past Kiran and into the room.

“Fine. You know every pussy and dick in this town. Mine included.”

“Not all of them—but a few,” he replies calmly. “You knew I was a dick before we even met.”

He’s not wrong. Am I really holding his past against him? I’ve got a past too—and it’s not exactly the kind you talk about over tea with your mother-in-law.

“I should be mad at you, but instead, you’re mad at me,” I say. “So before we get stuck in some never-ending loop of blame, can we just let this shit go?”

He says it more calmly than usual, and honestly, I’ve got nothing to say back. I’m exhausted. What would fighting even change?

“You’re right,” I say. “Let’s forget it.”

He keeps looking at me, like he’s waiting for another outburst. But my anger has melted away. I’m not better than him. I’m impulsive—but I’m not irrational.

“That was easy,” he says warily.

“You let me keep the car. I can return the favor,” I explain, crossing my arms. “I can be reasonable, you know.”

A deep laugh breaks the tension. Kiran’s still standing there.

“Told you, Ares. This’ll be the longest ride of your life,” he teases before leaving the studio, still laughing.

“Well, that was a quick visit,” I joke to ease the mood.

“He’s off to get food. So, did you find anything?” Ares asks, nodding at the T-shirts.

“Yeah… and one of your exes,” I mutter mostly to myself.

I want to let it go, but something still burns inside me.

“I’m done with this bullshit,” he says—and suddenly, he’s in front of me.

He spins my chair around and wraps an arm around my waist. Before I know it, I’m out of the chair and against his chest.

I’ll never get used to the way my body reacts to him. Every nerve flares at his touch. My mind goes blank.

When his lips brush mine, there’s no room for anger. Only him. Everything else fades as his tongue meets mine, and I lose myself in the moment.

When he finally pulls away, I keep my eyes closed for a second longer, holding onto the feeling, before I look into his eyes.

“Hi,” he says softly.

It’s so absurd to greet me like that after a kiss like that—I can’t help but smile.

“Hi,” I whisper, breathless.

A grin spreads across his face.

“Better now?”

My fingers draw lazy circles on his arm, almost on their own.

“Yeah. Sorry I was being a dick,” I murmur—the apology I’d meant to give him before going shopping.

He kisses my forehead. That warmth floods my chest, grounding me.

“It’s okay. Your stuff’s upstairs. Let’s eat, then you can unpack,” he says, brushing my flare-up away with ease.

I’m grateful he accepts me, flaws and all. Some days, I can’t even stand myself—but Ares? He makes it look easy.