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  “And just how are you planning to do that?” My mind buzzed with a mixture of excitement and want. I didn’t think I’d ever gone from one emotion to another so fast. Things with Craig were intense, that was for sure.

  His tongue slipped across my bottom lip as he pulled it into the hot recesses of his mouth. My insides quivered from the action. “Invite me into your bed, little miss, and I just might show you how I plan to salvage the night.”

  I tipped my head back as his lips trailed down my throat, peppering it with light kisses and tiny nibbles along the way. “Come on. Let’s go, then.”

  “Say it first.” His lips paused in their descent once they reached my collarbone.

  “Say what?” I closed my eyes, feeling his breath, hot and gentle, brushing over my skin. Begging for his lips to continue with their trail was not something I wanted to do, but if he left me hanging much longer I’d resort to it.

  “Invite me into your bed,” he whispered.

  A swift pang of unease swept through me. What was this, 1842? Since when did anyone ever invite someone into his or her bed? This conversation reminded me of the last time Craig had insisted I say another odd thing for him before he got into it all the way—he’d had me tell him that I wanted him. It was something I had only ever read about in books, and even then, I’d always found it a bit odd and embarrassing to request such a thing.

  Craig’s lips grazed my collarbone, his tongue slipping out to run along it in tiny sections. His hands found their way to my hips, and his fingertips dug into my sides. I reached out for him and threaded my fingers through his hair, hoping he’d take the hint and go lower with that mouth of his.

  “Say it, Paige. Invite me into your bed,” he repeated, his tone breathy and hoarse.

  I smiled at the ceiling of his Explorer, knowing him thinking about me saying those words was probably turning him on. I’d never been with someone who was so demanding of certain things while having sex. Even though I often thought of it as odd, there was still something thrilling about it. My last boyfriend had merely had sex, that was it—no passion, no foreplay, no demanding words before. Nothing. Having sex with Craig was a whole new world to me. Craig flicked his tongue along my cleavage, and I brought a hand up to pull my top away and expose my lacy bra for him.

  “No, Paige. I’m waiting. Say what I want,” he muttered.

  His commanding voice did things to me. Things I’d never be able to talk about with anyone. They made me blush, but they also made me hot for him. “Come to bed with me, Craig.”

  He let out a moan that was more growl than anything, and I waited for him to ask the same question he always did—the one that nearly made me freak out the first time he’d asked. “Can I do what I want with you?”

  And there it was.

  “As long as it doesn’t hurt.” I answered the same as all the times before. He pushed my bra aside and ran his tongue along my nipple. It hardened from the touch and shivers of excitement splashed through me.

  “One day you’ll let me show you how much pleasure can come from pain.” He bit my nipple and spasms of desire ricocheted to my lower regions. Pulling away and covering me up, he leaned back in his seat and ran his hands through his hair. “Let’s go before I lose control and take you right here in the parking lot.”

  I laughed as we both climbed out of the SUV and ran toward my apartment door. I unlocked it as fast as I could, and we bolted to my bedroom, his hands on me, pulling and tugging at my clothes along the way. Once we reached my room, Craig lay down across my bed and laced his hands behind his head. He stared at me with lust pooling in his brown eyes, and his pillow-soft lips swollen from our kisses.

  “Can we do something first?” His tone made his words sound like more of a statement than a question, so I waited for him to continue. “I’ve seen you dance before, how you move so seductively and slow. Now I want you to dance for me. Strip.”

  Nervousness clamped my stomach. No guy had ever asked me to do such a thing for him. An uneasy chuckle burst from my lips. “Don’t I need music?”

  “Nope, just create a beat in your head and go with it,” he insisted. “I’ve thought about you dancing the way you do while taking your clothes off many times. And now I want to live that fantasy.” A small grin stretched his lips.

  I grabbed the edges of my shirt, and I began to move my body to a slow beat I’d created in my head. Craig’s eyes lit up, and a sense of excitement mixed with satisfaction slithered through me, infusing my movements. I wanted to turn him on like he’d never been turned on before.

  Lifting one end of my shirt up, I gave him a peek of the edge of my bra, and then slid the fabric down over my stomach before doing the same to the other side. His lips fused together and his face grew serious, but his eyes let me know he was enjoying what he saw. I removed my shirt after a few more teasing moves, and then turned my back to him while I unhooked my bra. I slipped the straps down my arms as I gazed at him from over my shoulder. The bulge in his pants became more prominent. By the time I was completely naked and straddling his lap, the desire in Craig’s eyes was consuming, and I was ready to do anything else he asked, as long as it kept him wanting me this badly.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CAMERON

  Three days passed, and I was still hanging around Norhurst and Coldcreek with no intentions of leaving. There was no place for me to be. I had all of my belongings crammed into two suitcases in the trunk of my car, and no physical home to go back to—unless you counted my parents’ house in Coldcreek. Over the years, I’d simply stayed with people I met or rented hotel rooms for as many nights as I wanted. I’d never been anchored to any one place.

  It was Friday morning. I rolled into a sitting position on Eva’s couch and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Eva had been letting me stay at her place since Tuesday, when Craig came home and threatened to beat the shit out of me for hanging around Paige. His mom had been there—back from one of her interior design seminar trips—and had told me to leave until Craig calmed down. So, I’d left and hadn’t been back. Scott had called me twice to check and see if I was okay since then.

  I was fine.

  At least that was what I continued to tell everyone, as well as myself. Eva had been right. Normally, I would have been long gone from this place after signing those papers, but for some reason this time I wasn’t. Paige wasn’t the sole reason for that either. This was something that had begun a few months ago. Something inside of me yearned to be home. Hell, maybe at twenty-five I was feeling the tug of finally being ready to slow down my life some. I didn’t know. Whatever it was, wanting Paige didn’t help it any.

  Eva walked out of her bedroom dressed in a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a tank top. She had on a pair of flip-flops and a thin scarf wrapped around her neck. It was a weird combination to me, almost as though she was stuck between fall and summer.

  “Where are you headed off to so fast?” I ran my hands through my hair and yawned.

  “School, some of us don’t have the luxury of lying around all day like you.”

  “Ha-ha,” I muttered. “So, what are we getting into tonight? Wanna hit up Shooters with me?”

  She shook her head and filled a travel mug with coffee. “I can’t. I have to work tonight. You’ll have to entertain yourself.”

  I flopped back on the couch and tucked my arms behind my head. “Fine. I’ll figure something out.”

  “I’m sure you will.” She crossed the small apartment and headed for the front door. “See you later.”

  “Later,” I called after her. I closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep.

  When I woke up again, it was a little after noon. I folded the sheets and blankets Eva had let me use, and stacked them at the end of the couch as I’d done the previous mornings. Heading to her tiny kitchen, I made some sort of pumpkin spice coffee she raved about when she saw it was back on the shelves again and poured a bowl of cereal. After eating, I took a long shower and tossed on some clothes. I needed to fi
nd something to do.

  * * * *

  Norhurst had two sections of shops along a strip, the first being where I’d hung out with Paige the other day and the second on Westhills. I parked my car along the strip and climbed out. Glancing around, I searched for the sign I prayed was still here. When I spotted the white sign with a big ink splat in the center and the word Inked etched out in smoky blue letters, my heart kick-started and a smile twisted the corners of my mouth. Inked had been where I’d gotten all my tattoos done, and I was exhilarated to see the place was still around. This was good.

  Walking through the double doors, moderately loud music met my ears—Chalk Outline by Three Days Grace. Everything about the place was the same as I remembered it, except for the furniture. The walls were the same shade of smoky blue as the sign, black leather chairs lined the wall beside me, a matching sofa rested against the farthest wall, and a large round coffee table sat in the center, covered with tattoo magazines. There was no one sitting at the little desk across from the doors, so I grabbed a magazine off the table and sat in one of the chairs, nodding to the chick with an eyebrow ring and enough tattoos visible that I wondered where she’d be getting her next one.

  A girl in thigh-high combat boots and a short skirt walked down the hall and sat behind the desk. Her hair was twisted into three large knots and she had gauged ears. I smirked at her and then called out, “My, my, little Tina Whitmore has grown the hell up.”

  Her head snapped in my direction and recognition splashed across her heavily made-up face. “Cam? What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Listen to that dirty mouth you’ve got now,” I teased.

  She rolled her eyes at me. “You know this mouth has always been dirty.” The way she said the words made me think things I shouldn’t. Not about her.

  I really needed to get laid, and I needed to shift the topic or else Bo would beat my ass and send me packing without the new tat I wanted for talking to his little sister that way. I set the magazine I’d been flipping through on the table and strutted across the room toward her. “Why aren’t you in school, little bit?”

  Her eyes flashed when I called her little bit, and she smiled wickedly at me. “I’m not so little anymore, Cam.” She sat up straighter and poked her chest out farther than it already was, accentuating her cleavage. “I graduated over the summer.”

  “Awesome, congratulations on that.” I placed my hands on the desk and sunk down some so she could hear me better over the music. “Bo got time to fit me in real quick?”

  Tina reached for a red lollypop in the glass jar in front of her. She unwrapped it and flicked her tongue out to lick it suggestively. “Depends on what you’re wanting to get done.”

  “Just one tat. He can start it today, and then we can finish it over the next few weeks. I’m gonna be in town for a while.”

  Her insanely blue eyes met with mine and she winked. “You know Bo always has time for you.”

  I smiled. “Thanks.”

  Bo Whitmore had been my best friend in high school. After my parents died, Bo was the only person who understood what I was going through. His dad had died from a heart attack when he was thirteen. Our tragedies had brought us closer, but then I went down a completely different path than Bo and became lost. He might have enjoyed drinking and partying it up all the time, but he never did anything more than that. Some days, I’d admired him for his strength, because I was too weak to turn down the drugs and the numbing sensation their use brought me. They made me forget how fucked up my life had become. Bo used his pain as motivation. That was why he was one of the best tattoo artists around and a successful entrepreneur.

  “Not a problem.” She stood and started down the hall. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  Sauntering back to my chair, I picked up another magazine and started flipping through the pages. The song changed from a Three Days Grace one to Eminem and Marilyn Manson’s The Way I Am. It threw me back to the old days of hanging out with Bo at the lake, jamming this song in his beater of a car while we pounded back some beers, singing it at the top of our lungs. Those were good times. My lips twitched into a smile as I sang along with the song in my head, nailing all the lyrics like no time had slipped by since I’d last heard it.

  “Cameron Motherfucking Green!” Bo shouted as he came down the hall behind Tina, wiping his hands on a paper towel.

  My eyes grazed over him and I smiled. It had been almost a year since I’d last seen him, which was a few months after I’d broken down. Bo had been the one to cover up my scar with my latest Hemingway quote.

  I took in his shaved head and bushy beard he’d grown since then. He’d gained a little weight, but still looked good. His attire was the same—black T-shirt and dark, baggy jeans with a chain hanging out of his back pocket. A guy with a bandage on his right arm made his way to the desk. Tina had him pay, and gave him a printed off sheet of tattoo aftercare tips.

  “What’s up, man? It’s been a while.” I grinned and stood to give Bo a slap on the back.

  “What the hell have you been into lately? Where you been?” he asked. He motioned me to follow him down the hall and into the back room where he did all his tattoos. His eyes locked with mine as we walked. They were the same shade as his little sister’s—a bright, electric blue. “You don’t have anything you want me to cover up like last time, right?” Concern crossed his features.

  I shook my head. “No, I’m straight now. Clean and in the right mindset. Have been for about a year now. Eva and Scott pushed me in the right direction.”

  Bo slapped me across the back a few times. “Good, good. Goddamn you scared me that day when you came in here asking for a cover up for that shit. I had no idea things had gotten so bad for you, bro. I would have done something to help it if I had.”

  “I wouldn’t have listened. I had to hit bottom to realize I needed help.”

  “Right.” He nodded. “So, what do you want to get done today? Tina said you want another tat?” He flipped the light on in the little room with all his equipment inside.

  I leaned against the counter where the sink was, and folded my arms across my chest. “Yeah. I want to get something different done. I like the scripts you’ve done for me in the past, but I think I need something to symbolize the changes I’ve gone through lately.”

  Bo sat on his rolling stool and stared at me. I could already see the gears going in his mind as he wondered what I’d pick while thinking of ideas to toss out. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’m thinking a phoenix.”

  “I like that idea, man. You want it rising, right? So it symbolizes the whole rebirth and renewal from going through a rough time? That’s freaking badass, man.” He grinned.

  I nodded and gripped my chin, liking the idea of going with a phoenix even more now. “Hell yeah.”

  “You want colors this time?”

  “Yeah, let’s do yellows, oranges, and reds.”

  “Where do you want it?”

  I thought for a moment before answering. “On my back, along the right shoulder blade.”

  “Nice.” Bo rolled over to a drawer, and pulled out a piece of paper and a black pen. He set it on the counter beside me and got to work drawing something.

  I stood there, watching over his shoulder and guiding him with the shape of the body and how sharp I wanted the wings’ tips. Bo never ceased to amaze me with his artistic ability.

  “What about the chick in the waiting room? Didn’t she have an appointment or something?” I asked, remembering I’d cut in line for this tattoo.

  “Eh, she can wait. She’s in here practically every month for a new piece. I swear to God she like gets off on the pain or something. Tina said I need to get a sign that says, ‘If you get off, I charge more,’ and point it out to her the next time she comes in.”

  “Wow, what a freak.” I chuckled. “Why aren’t you hittin’ that?”

  “Fuck off, man. You know that shit’s not my style. I go for the good girl
s.” He flung the paper he’d been drawing at me. “What about this?”

  I skimmed over the finished product and felt the pinpricks of excitement stab at my brain. This was going to look awesome. “That’s it, bro. Thanks.”

  “No problem. What size you looking at? About this big?” He lifted his shirt and flashed me his side, where he’d had a large koi fish tatted.

  “Nice one, and the size would be perfect.”

  “All right, I’ll go stencil this up. Sit down and get comfy by straddling that chair, big boy.” He grinned and pointed to the black chair in the center of the little room.

  I flipped him off and shook my head. “You’re still just as fucking weird.”

  Once he left the room, I reached for the back of my shirt and pulled it off. Hanging it from the hook on the wall, I pulled up my jeans’ legs and straddled the chair with my back facing the door. Another song came on, and I leaned my elbows against the top of the chair, ready to feel the stick of the needle. My heart raced as adrenaline pumped through me. I felt alive and loved it. This was better than any drug I’d ever tasted.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  PAIGE

  I took the next person’s order and watched the door as the place filled with customers. Of course, they would make the new girl work on a Friday night, when everyone and their brother was coming in. Who would have thought a little coffee shop could be so crammed with people; this place was busier than the local bar. When I’d filled out the application, I had no idea Enticing Aroma was open until ten o’clock at night. Who drank coffee until then?

  I glanced around at the bodies filling the place and let out a sigh. There was no way my dad would discredit this place as not being a high-stress job.