Page 4

CHAPTER THREE

Victoria

I t’s been over a week since we last heard from Magnus. I’ve been worried sick.

But along with the worry, I’ve been feeling all sorts of other emotions. Knowing that Adrian Cross may or may not be showing up in my shop at any moment to stay here and work here only a few feet from me is stirring up all kinds of anxious excitement in my belly.

For the first few days after talking to Magnus, I must have looked at the door every thirty seconds hoping to see Adrian’s tall broad frame walking through the door.

But now, on the other side of a week and no Adrian, I’m beginning to think that the whole thing was a fever dream of Magnus’ unhinged bear.

I mean, why would he come back after all this time? Does he even still tattoo? It just doesn’t make sense.

He’s not coming , I tell myself as I finish up the sketch for my next appointment. It’s just not in the cards, girl. He was a childhood crush and that’s it. Get over it. It’s getting kind of pathetic.

“What do you think of this?” I ask as I hold the sketch up to the light. It’s one of those old-timey ship anchors.

Julian walks over to scrutinize it. His eyes narrow and his forehead furrows as he goes over every line with careful precision. “Need more shading here,” he says, pointing to the thick rope.

It always hurts to hear someone criticize your art, but we’re still brutally honest with one another anyway.

I’ve trashed some of his best pieces to his face and he’s nit-picked and blasted some of mine.

When you’re in the business of permanently etching your drawings onto people’s skin, you can’t let hurt feelings get in the way.

We have to be ruthless. Our hurt feelings will heal, but fucked up tattoos stay on skin forever .

“This knot needs to be thicker,” he says, pointing to the rope swirling around the anchor.

Damn it. He’s right. I hate that.

I must be distracted.

He hands back the sketch and I start shading as he lingers around his station getting ready for when we open.

“Did Magnus say when Adrian is coming?” he asks as he takes the last sip of his coffee.

“He’s not coming,” I say as I scratch my pencil back and forth along the rope.

“You talked to him? Or to Magnus?” Julian asks, perking up.

“No, just a gut feeling.”

The door opens even though the sign is still flipped to Closed . My heart skips a beat as I whip my head up, hoping to see a tall sexy polar bear shifter strutting through the door.

My shoulders drop and my stomach plunges when I see Curt instead.

He’s my most loyal customer, and my most annoying. He’s a male stripper who has the hots for me and loves that he can take his shirt off in my chair.

“Hi Curt,” I say, trying to keep my voice chipper but failing miserably.

He struts in with an amused grin on his face, like he’s offering us all a gift by being so generous to anoint us with his presence.

“We’re not open,” Julian grunts. “The sign is there. Can you read?”

“You don’t need to read when you have abs like this,” Curt says as he pulls off his shirt in dramatic fashion.

Julian rolls his eyes and then heads into the back to start a new sketch.

“Your anchor is ready,” I say, showing him the tattoo.

He frames the spot on his side with his index fingers and thumbs. “I don’t know,” he says, putting on his regular routine. “This spot on my body is already a work of art. It’s kind of a shame to draw over it.”

He does this every time. Today, I’m not in the mood.

“Fine, we’ll cancel,” I say as I turn back to the reception desk.

“No, no,” he says as he hops into my chair with his hands behind his head. “I still want it.”

I place the stencil on his skin and get my needles and ink all set up. He hits on me the entire time.

“Most male strippers have to move through the crowd,” he says as I slip on a new pair of black latex gloves. “Because the women in the back row can’t see. But with me, I can stay on stage all I want, if you catch my drift. The women have no problems seeing me.”

“Because there’s hardly anyone in the audience when you strip?”

“What?! No!”

I try to hide my grin as I get him all worked up.

I don’t know why he keeps thinking I’m impressed with his muscles or body or profession. I couldn’t care less.

See, Curt is like a toddler. He only wants what he can’t have. And he definitely can’t have me. So, I’m all he wants.

“What are you doing Friday night?” he asks.

“Not watching you strip, that’s for sure.”

“I’m off,” he says. “I was thinking we could go out for a romantic dinner, go back to my place, have a little private strip session just the two of us…”

I stop what I’m doing and stare him in the eyes. “What did I just say?”

“Alright,” he says, putting his hands up. “I can watch you strip if you prefer that.”

“Oh my god.”

I just shake my head and get back to work. The quicker I can get this anchor tattooed on this annoying man, the quicker I can get him out of my shop.

I don’t know why he’s picking an anchor anyway. Curt is the opposite of an anchor. During hard times, this man-toddler will just strut away and leave you on your own.

Once I get everything set up, I start putting ink onto his skin. I’m about ten minutes in when the front door opens. I’m busy shading so I don’t turn around.

“Julian!” I shout. “Your client is here.”

I hear Julian coming out, but before I do, the heavy masculine scent hits me like a truck slamming into my chest. I gasp as the heady intoxicating aroma burns down my throat like lava.

My hand twitches and I fuck up the black line a little bit on Curt’s tattoo.

I can fix it, but instead of worrying about that right now, my head is turning toward the door like it has a mind of its own.

“Hello, Victoria,” Adrian says in the deepest, sexiest voice I’ve ever heard.

My mouth drops open to return the hello, but nothing comes out. No words, no breath, no air. I’m just sitting there slack-jawed and in shock as I stare at my first ever crush now full grown into a gorgeous muscular man.

I thought teenage Adrian was something special, but he’s got nothing on this beautiful specimen.

My long dormant crush comes roaring back. Maybe it never left.

Adrian has filled out considerably. He’s taller, wider, and that face…

God help me.

It’s carved from my dirtiest dreams. Strong, angular jaw dusted with dark stubble. I want to feel it scratching between my thighs. I want to feel it under my fingertips as I pull his mouth to mine. Those lips, those cheekbones, even his nose is giving me shivers. He’s so, fucking, hot .

His eyes are the best part. They’re deep ocean blue and fixated on me like he’s already undressing every inch of me with no shame or mercy.

“Wow, Victoria,” he says with his deep, rich, growly voice. I nearly moan from hearing my name leaving those perfect lips. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

I let out a nervous laugh. I’d recognize him anywhere.

This man is tattooed on my brain. He’s lodged in my heart. You never forget your first crush, and crush or not, Adrian is unforgettable.

He’s built like a god whose powers are to seduce foolish female tattoo artists who don’t know when to stop staring.

Those shoulders are so broad and sexy. His chest is massive. His arms are thick and hard with corded tattooed muscle. Damn, I wasn’t prepared for all of this.

One minute, I’m tattooing an anchor on an annoying stripper fuckboy and the next, I’m lost at sea, spinning and turning under the waves, not knowing which way is up and unable to breathe.

Even my bear is reacting. She’s pacing around, trying to get out. Trying to get closer to him.

“Adrian!” Julian says, startling me from my daze.

I watch as my brother goes over and slaps hands with him.

I don’t take my eyes off Adrian. Curt starts to squirm as I’m admiring Adrian’s tattoos.

The colorful ink on his arms and the black ink that’s coiling down his thick neck and disappearing beneath the snug black T-shirt that stretches tight across his chest. I want to rip that shirt off his torso to see the rest of him.

“Who is that guy?” Curt hisses, clearly annoyed that another man has caught my attention.

“My brother’s best friend,” I say as I get another whiff of his delicious scent.

It’s pure alpha and it’s having quite the effect on me.

Wild and male and deep forest pine, but under that there’s something darker.

Smoky. Spicy. Like cedarwood and sin. Like he’s been forged in fire and iced in snow.

My lungs can’t take it. My bear can’t take it.

I feel a tingling between my thighs and it’s growing hotter with every deep inhale I take.

My bear starts to make her presence known. She’s pacing inside me and growling what seems to be ‘ mine .’

Yeah, wait in line, girl. I got first dibs.

“Thanks for helping us out,” Julian says as he shows Adrian to Magnus’ workstation. “You can work here.”

Adrian doesn’t seem to like that Julian’s station is between ours, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He just keeps shooting heated glances my way as Julian shows him where everything is.

“What’s the hold up?” Curt asks with a huff. “Pretty boy caught your eye? He’s not even that good looking. I got better calves than that.”

He doesn’t. Not by a long shot. Curt isn’t even in the same league as Adrian.

I force my eyes back down to my work, trying to salvage the line I messed up on Curt’s tattoo, but my hand is shaking.

My fingers don’t want to hold the machine anymore.

They want to grab a hold of Adrian’s belt buckle, drag him into the back, pin him against the wall of the breakroom, and see the look on his face as I drop to my knees.

I want to see the realization in his eyes that I’m not a kid anymore.

That’s there’s nothing stopping us from doing all the dirty things racing through our minds.

But I’m nervous. I don’t even know if he’d go for a girl like me.

I wouldn’t even know what to say or do. I’m confident in my fantasies, but in real life… It’s a little scarier.

Julian and Adrian are whispering over there, probably talking about Magnus and his ‘condition.’

Meanwhile, Curt is back to yapping my ear off.

“So, I was thinking Chez George for dinner,” Curt goes on. “I’ll reserve the table for two by the window. Tres romantique. Then, we can drive out to the make out spot and see what happens...”

I’m about to fake vomit, but Adrian interrupts me, rushing over in a blur. I gasp as he wraps his big strong hand around Curt’s neck, making his eyes nearly pop out of his head.

“That’s no way to talk to a lady,” he says, his forearm flexing as he adds some pressure. Curt’s face goes bright red as he tries to pry Adrian’s unmovable hand from around his jugular.

He glances at the tattoo I’m working on. “An anchor, huh?” he says. “How about I throw you into the ocean and we’ll test it out?”

“It’s okay,” I say as I put my hand on Adrian’s flexed arm. It immediately loosens. “He’s harmless. A moron, but harmless.”

Adrian holds on for a second or two longer then releases him. Curt gasps, chokes, and gulps down breaths as his face turns from bright red to pink.

I realize that my hand is still on Adrian’s big arm like it doesn’t want to leave, so I snap it back like I’ve just been caught doing something naughty.

He grins as he looks down at me with those sexy blue eyes that are warm enough to melt glaciers.

“You look good, Vic.”

My heart’s pounding. My thighs are clenched. My bear is practically snarling to get out and rub all over him like a lunatic in heat.

Keep it together , I chant in my head. You are a professional. You are at work. You are a lady.

I clear my throat. “Uh, thanks.”

That’s all I can manage. One syllable. Utterly pathetic.

Do better than that, please.

“You look good too.”

Adrian smiles and it feels like a warm wave rushing through me from my chest to my throbbing pussy to my curling toes in my Converse shoes.

Vic .

I was wondering if he remembered what he used to call me.

I was thirteen the last time I heard him say it.

Back then I was in my braces-wearing, hide-in-the-next-room whenever he came over, extreme blushing phase of my life.

The braces are gone, but apparently I’m still in that phase with the way my cheeks are on fire and my sudden irresistible urge to slip into the closet and hide.

“Let me show you the sketches Magnus was working on before he left,” Julian says, stealing him away as he guides him into the back.

My eyes stay on Adrian until he disappears into the breakroom.

“I don’t like that guy,” Curt says, waiting until he’s gone. “I think he dislodged my Adam’s apple.”

I think he dislodged my heart.

It’s beating differently now. Each pump is to the rhythm of his name.

A-dri-an. A-dri-an. A-dri-an .

How am I supposed to work with this guy around? Seriously, can someone tell me?

Because I have no freaking idea.