Page 19 of Sin for You

Maybe getting Bull to do this wasn’t such a great idea after all.

* * *

Bull

I was pretty sure I was close to losing my mind.

I’d been putting this off, giving Quinn the ink she wanted. I hadn’t been sure why, only that the idea of marking her beautiful skin, with something she’d see whenever she looked in the mirror, something she’d see every day and know that it was me who put it there, made my heart race faster.

Now I thought I finally knew why.

I’d liked the idea too damn much.

I glanced up at her again. Yeah, the longer I worked on Quinn, the quicker her breathing got. And not from pain. She was flushed and, fuck, squeezing her thighs together.

She liked the feel of my needle moving over her skin.

Christ, Quinn was turned on.

Her scent filled my room, and all I could think about was that little star on the inside of her hip. It was fucking with me in a big way. And yeah, I had to be losing my mind, because right then I wanted nothing more than to yank her tight jeans back down and press my face against that smooth olive skin, drag my nose over that star, breathe her in, lick and suck that tender-looking flesh until she begged me to go lower.

Stop.

I couldn’t think about Quinn like that. It was wrong for so many reasons.

I refused to look at the way her nipples strained against her shirt or the way her thigh muscles kept tensing every time she squeezed them together, and made myself concentrate. I needed to get this tattoo done so I could get her the hell out of here and away from me.

Jesus, the way she’d looked when I finished drawing her mom’s cross. I’d wanted to pull her into my arms and keep her there.

I needed a drink—ten—and as soon as this was done I was burying this shit in my head at the bottom of a bottle.

“I’ll leave, if you promise not to drink too much.”

Her words from the night before pushed forward, cooling my blood like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head.

The reminder I needed. And one of the many very good reasons I’d be ignoring the throb behind my zipper and keeping my hands to my damned self.

Thirty long minutes later, it was done.

I worked quickly, cleaning her off.

She sat up when I was finished, flushed, lips full and red from her biting them, which I worked hard at ignoring, especially since I knew how they felt against mine. That fleeting kiss she’d given me in the bar felt like it was just moments ago. Christ, her lips had barely touched mine, but I couldn’t get the way they felt out of my head.

Snatching a small mirror off the table, I showed her what I’d done.

“Wow, Bull, that’s…it’s beautiful.”

“Keep your shirt up,” I said, voice full of grit, and quickly applied some ointment and covered it.

She climbed off the table. “Bull—”

My phone started ringing.

Rattled from what I was feeling around Quinn, I grabbed it and answered without looking. “Yeah.” I could hear Quinn behind me, the rustle of fabric as she straightened her shirt, and gritted my teeth again.

“Logan?” A slurred voice echoed down the line.

I stiffened.