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I take a deep breath as I push through the door. Sammie, the only female tattoo artist Possum hired, lifts her head from the design she’s drawing.
“Hey, Rogue,” she greets. “I didn’t know you were stopping by.”
“Wasn’t planned.”
Sammie shrugs. “‘Kay. Possum’s in the back with a client. I think it’s your bartender…”
Her voice fades as I stride through the shop toward the room Possum uses. I pause at the door, steeling myself against what I’m about to walk into.
When I turn the knob and push the door open, my breath hitches in my chest at the sight before me. Skye is lying flat on her back on the table, and her shirt is draped over the stool in the corner. The black lace bra hugging her tits leaves very little to the imagination, and I despise the fact that Possum is as close as he is to them.
“You’re getting a tattoo,” I say needlessly.
Without taking his eyes off his work, Possum chuckles. “Why else would she be here, bro?”
Why else indeed?
“Are you gonna tell me what the tattoo means?” Possum asks her when I remain silent.
“Nah.” There’s a teasing lilt in her voice, and it sends sparks dancing over my nerve endings.
What I wouldn’t give to have that tone directed at me.
“Boyfriend,” Rogue states matter-of-factly.
Skye’s eyes dart to his face, but she doesn’t respond.
It doesn’t take long before Possum finishes the design and wipes away any blood and excess ink.
“I’m guessing you don’t need aftercare instructions,” he says as he gestures toward her ink-covered body.
“I’m good.” Skye smiles as she stands and walks to the mirror. “Wow, Possum. This is better than I imagined.”
I stare at her reflection, but she quickly turns so my brother can cover the tattoo with a plastic film to protect it.
“I’m definitely gonna come in again and let you have your way with me.” Skye’s skin flushes as her words sink in, and my entire body tenses. “I-I-I mean, I’ll be back for more.”
Jesus, I feel like a third wheel.
Possum puffs out his chest like a proud peacock. “A girl after my own heart.”
I lean against the wall and shove my hands into my pockets to keep from beating the piss out of him.
Skye puts her shirt on and grabs her bag. “How much do I owe you?”
Possum glances at me and smirks as if he knows their whole exchange is driving me insane. “One fifty,” replies, his gaze remaining on me.
A quiet growl creeps up the back of my throat, and Skye’s eyes shift to mine before she ducks her head to dig in her bag. Normally, the design he just completed would cost three hundred bucks.
She hands him two one-hundred-dollar bills. “Here.”
“Gimme a minute to grab your change from Sammie in the front,” Possum states as he moves past her toward the door.
But Skye stops him with a wave of her hand. “No need. Keep the change. I’m just grateful you got me in so quick.”
“Friends and family always come first.”
Skye smiles. “Um, well, thank you.” She drapes her purse over her shoulder, careful not to let the crossbody strap touch her new ink. “See you around.”
