Page 49 of Down & Dirty: Rage

One day she should simply draw a big, veiny penis and see if he objected tothat.

Now she wasn’t looking forward to tattooing the hawk on the side of his head. Luckily, she could act like a professional and pretend he was simply another client.

He plucked the phone from her fingers.

“Hey!” She tried to grab it back from him but he set it aside on the counter and blocked her access to it by using his big body.

“That ain’t why you’re here.”

“Of course not. I already told you that. I’m here because of the kiss.”

“Should just forget it ever happened.”

She stared up at him and said slowly, “I don’t want to forget it, Ashton.”

His nostrils flared. “I ain’t for you, baby.”

“Shouldn’t you let me decide that?”

“What happened didn’t just involve you. I got a say, too.”

He was right. It took two to tango, and if he didn’t want to dance, then she needed to accept that. “Okay. Sorry to bother you. I just thought…”

She closed her eyes and did her best to tamp down the rising disappointment.

She’d gone to his apartment that morning to find out why he disappeared. But that wasn’t the only reason.

She also wanted to kiss him again and see where it led when there wasn’t a crowd of friends and family on the other side of the door.

When it was only the two of them.

Alone.

In private.

With an actual bed nearby.

He cocked a dark blond eyebrow. “No, that’s the problem, Lyric, you didn’t think. ‘Cause if you did, you’d know why hookin’ up with me would be a fuckin’ mistake.”

“You men are stubborn to a fault.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “Holy fuck. And you women ain’t?”

She pushed on. “I’ve known you my whole life, Ash. I trust you completely.”

“Trust you, too, baby. That’s why I let you touch my skin with all those goddamn needles. And you know I fuckin’ hate needles. But that don’t mean we should—” His Adam’s apple bounced when he swallowed. With a frown, he downed the rest of his spiked coffee. “Respect your parents. Respect you. Don’t wanna fuck with that mutual respect.”

With a shake of his head, he unplugged the coffee maker and balanced the empty mug on top of the mountain of dishes already piled in the sink.

She stepped closer, and when he turned to find her in his personal space, his head jerked back. “Lyric, you’re more than a fuckin’ hole to fill.”

Well, she guessed that was one positive.

She cupped his face. “I would hope so.”

His eyes softened and he rubbed his bristly cheek against her soft palm. “Like I said, ain’t smart, baby,” he whispered.

“Who’s going to know?”