Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 131926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” he says, placing his hand over his shirt, right where his tattoo rests peacefully beneath. “I had to get this thing finished at some point.”
“True that,” she smiles, making me want to claw at her.
“Listen,” Grayson says. “I know it’s against your policies, but Winter’s going to sit in with us.”
“Oh, umm …” her eyes slice to mine and I see the exact second that she decides to put up a fight, so before she can say another word, I step closer to Grayson’s side and curl my hand around his large bicep, clinging onto him as though my world can’t possibly go on without him by my side, and making him look like a taken man. Her gaze slices back to Grayson’s. “I guess I can make an exception, but she needs to sit still. I can’t risk her running around my stall and bumping me.”
My fingers dig into Grayson’s arm as I give her a sickly-sweet smile, and not a second later, his hand comes down on mine, a silent warning for me to not race across the store and suffocate her with her own stupid bandana. “Let’s get started then.”
We walk deeper into the store and she leads Grayson into a private room. I follow behind them and drop down into the seat in the corner. “Alright, what are we working with?” she says, walking across the room and organizing her tools.
I watch her closely. I’ve never seen this before, and I can’t say that I’m not intrigued, but the second Grayson peels his shirt over his head and his tattoo is on full display, my attention falls back to him. Or more, the black ink that covers his chest and shoulders.
It’s fucking gorgeous. I thought that when I first saw it, and still now, but I can’t help that gut feeling that tells me there is so much more to this tattoo. My eyes skim over the finer details of the impressive ink as Grayson reminds the artist about what he wants, but from the sound of it, they’ve already talked about it in great detail, and she’s more than ready to get started.
She wastes no time, and within seconds, Grayson is laying back on the table with one arm propped behind his head, making his bicep bulge in all the best kinds of ways.
I watch her work, and despite the obvious lady boner she has for Grayson, she’s pretty fucking great at what she does. I find myself creeping closer and closer, watching every last thing she does in awe while trying desperately to not get in the way. As much as I despise her warning out in the front of the store, the last thing I would want is for her to get bumped and fuck up this beautiful artwork.
She moves down around his ribs and a soft pained groan rumbles through the room. Without thinking, my hand shoots up and curls into his, our fingers lacing as I desperately wish that I could take his pain away. He meets my eyes and a connection burns between us, the tension building like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
My heart races, and for just a moment, I forget the girl and the tattoo, as all that exists is him. His thumb gently moves over the back of my hand, and just for a moment, I wish I could throw this girl out of here and then throw myself at him.
She moves just an inch, and as she does, even more of his tattoo is put on display. “Why a raven?” I ask, slowly roaming my eyes over his body as I raise them to meet his.
A seriousness pulses within his eyes as he silently watches me. “Why do you think?” he finally says in a deep, raspy tone, almost as though the answer should be obvious.
I shrug my shoulders. “Honestly, I’ve been thinking about this since I first saw it at the party in the cabin, and there are a few reasons why you could have chosen a raven.”
“Well?” he pushes, his eyes never leaving mine.
I bite down on my lip, not sure I’m ready to know the answer to this. “Well, it could be the typical bird tattoo. You know, not being caged and flying free bullshit, but I don’t think you’re that cheesy.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not,” he says. “What else have you got?”
My gaze briefly flickers toward the tattoo artist before resting back on Grayson. “It could be a nod toward … you know, the family business. Andrew and Gerald Ravenwood. I don’t know, maybe you’re a little more into the whole thing than I realized.”
He shakes his head, his eyes darkening by the second. “I’ll give you one last guess.”
I swallow over the lump in my throat, not once taking my eyes from him. “Me,” I whisper before I can convince myself to back out of this conversation just like he had done in the car. “It’s a raven to acknowledge me—Ravenwood.”