The Marked Men Series Books 1–6: Rule, Jet, Rome, Nash, Rowdy, Asa. Jay Crownover
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to collect me in no time at all. He handed Cora a bank bag and hollered out good-bye to no one in particular and pulled me out with him into the now frigid evening air. I shivered involuntarily and huddled into his side while he adjusted the hood of his sweatshirt over his still mostly naked head and shoved his arms through the sleeves of a black mechanic-style work coat that had the tattoo shop’s logo and name embroidered in a bright design on the back.
“Do you want to order something for delivery or go somewhere?” He rubbed his hands together roughly and then pushed them under the fall of my hair to clasp the back of my neck. They felt like blocks of ice so I shivered even harder until he pulled me to his chest and tucked my head under his chin.
“Delivery so I don’t have to move my car.”
“Cool, what are you in the mood for? I’ll call on the way home.”
“Anything, really. I’m just hungry.”
“Pizza?”
“Sure, but no green peppers or mushrooms on my half.”
I hooked an arm through his and tried to keep up with his long strides as we made our way to the Victorian. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I frowned as I saw it was once again my father. I was sure whatever story my mother had spun about my last visit had him all riled up, but I just didn’t have the patience to get a lecture on morality and suitable romantic partners from a guy whose new wife was only a few years older than me. I sent the call to voice mail and let go of Rule to sidestep a particularly dangerous and icy patch on the sidewalk.
He scowled at me and snatched my hand back up. He tugged me around so that I was pressed up against his front while he walked forward and guided me backward. “I wouldn’t let you fall.”
I reached up to put my hands on his shoulders and gazed up into his eyes, which were just as frosty as the snow coating the ground all around us. “No?”
“No. You don’t trust me?”
“Most of the time I do.”
“Why not all the time?” We stopped in front of the Victorian and I moved my hands from his shoulders to the back of his neck, which made his hood fall off.
“Because I’ve never trusted anyone all the time. It’s the people I care about the most who always seem to do the most damage.”
“I’m not going to be one of those people, Shaw.” If only he knew how bad it had hurt my heart each time I had to see him with one of his conquests he wouldn’t be saying that. I forced a small smile and brushed my fingers over the soft black hair starting to grow on his head.
“I hope not.”
He just shook his head and hauled me into the apartment because it was way too cold to keep messing around outside. He shrugged out of his coat and hoodie while motioning for me to hand my stuff over. “Nash has a date tonight so he won’t be home until later, if at all.” He disappeared down the hall to drop the armful in his room and came back talking on the phone with the pizza place. I took down a couple plates and handed him a beer while looking in a futile attempt to see if the boys had anything in the fridge to make a salad with. I needed to get some normal food in this place if I was going to keep spending time here or I was going to end up the size of a baby hippo.
“I think he’s probably done with having me around in the man-zone. I know Ayden mentioned that she almost got an eyeful while you were over this morning. They’re undoubtedly sick of us.”
He laughed and took a chug out of the beer bottle. “I didn’t mean to surprise Ayden this morning. I thought she was gone. I didn’t know she just went running.”
“Yeah, she goes every morning and it’s not like she was complaining; in fact she complimented the view.”
He snorted. “Nash doesn’t mind having you here. He likes that you actually cook and that we don’t have to get delivery or bring stuff home every single night. Plus, you smell good and always pick up the random stuff we leave lying around. If having you here got on his nerves he would say something to me and more than likely to you as well. He has no problem letting Rome know when he has overstayed his welcome.”
I leaned back against the counter and twisted the cap off a bottle of water. “So, Cora was telling me all about your ink bunnies, or tattoo tramps, as she calls them. I had no idea just how far your appeal reached. Girls get work that they aren’t going to love in ten years just to spend time with you. That’s pretty crazy.”
“Cora has a big mouth and exaggerates, but getting tattooed is pretty intimate no matter who the client is. When they leave they’re leaving with something you put on their skin forever. They trust you to capture their vision and execute it perfectly, so sometimes that means you have to invest in them as a person to some degree. Some girls, especially younger ones, get really wrapped up in the process and turn it into more than it is. I have my fair share of clients who have little crushes on me and come back for work. Not because I’m awesome but because they want to spend time in the setting, but it’s my job so I keep it professional. I’m not going to lie, I’ve hooked up with a client or two, but never after work or never while I was in the process of doing a piece. Sex and work don’t belong in the same place.”
I sucked back some of the water and mulled that over for a minute. “Does it bother you that I don’t look like the typical girls you find attractive?”
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
I hopped up on the counter and let my legs dangle. I tapped the tips of my nails on the tiled surface and cocked my head to the side while I studied him closely. “I don’t have tattoos or piercings. I don’t have sex hair or wear clothes that are impossible to breathe in. I’m just, you know, a normal girl. I’ve seen enough, been around enough of your morning-afters to know that I’m not what you typically gravitate toward. When you look at me, do you wonder if you would like it better if I looked more like you and your crew?”
He put the beer down on the dining room table and locked his eyes on mine while he stalked toward me. Before, that would have made me nervous and panicky but now it made me all warm and breathless. He didn’t stop until he was pressed right up against me, between my legs with our hips aligned in a perfect position to make me forget my own name.
“When I look at you I don’t see anything but you, and Shaw, you are perfect. I don’t care what color your hair is, if you’re pale or tan, if you have makeup on or just woke up—all I care about is that when I look at you, you always look back and see me. You’re beautiful inside and out and if you wanted to tattoo all that pretty white skin from head to toe, I would be honored to put it there for you, but if not, I’ll take you all smooth and milky white any chance I get.”
It was heart-wrenchingly romantic. It was the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever said to me, and I was about to go all weepy female on him and blubber about how wonderful everything he said was and how much he meant to me. Either that or I was going to yank off his clothes and have at him right there in the kitchen. I was waffling between the two reactions when the doorbell rang and shattered the mood. He pushed away from me and went to collect dinner, and I took a minute to get my composure back. The boy was potent, all right, and I planned to enjoy every single minute that it was directed at me.
CHAPTER 13
Rule
There had been a few moments during the last week that had been so perfect, so poignant, that they froze me with fear and made me want to run the other way as fast and as far as I could. Sitting on the couch in my living room, eating pizza and knocking back a few cold ones while I watched SportsCenter and she did schoolwork on her computer was one of them. Watching her just be had me suddenly feeling like I was suffocating in the rightness of it all, and I had to escape to a burning-hot shower before I did something stupid like ask her to marry me or tell her to take a hike. She just fit. She filled every hole I had in my life and the idea of her not being there, of