Inked: A Bad Boy Next Door Romance by Lauren Landish, Willow Winters

wants me, and I want her.
    I almost had her in her kitchen. I’m surprised she let it get that far. She’s definitely losing her will to fight this. I’m enjoying it though, breaking down her walls.
    I’ll have to wait and play this right. I wasn’t sure if she was really that sweet innocent thing I thought she was pretending to be at the bar. But she is. A little uptight, too. Which makes it all the more challenging.
    “Yo, Needles!” My partner in crime turns around at the desk when I come in.
    He’s young. Just turned twenty-two last week, which was a fucking fabulous night out. He doesn’t look it though. He’s got pale blond hair and a patchy beard that looks like he’s going through puberty.
    Poor bastard. The clean-shaven look only makes him look that much younger. He tatted himself up pretty good to add some age to him. He did a shit job on his left arm though. That’s how we met. He had to come to a professional to fix it up.
    Ever since then it’s been the two of us running this place. There are a few other artists working out of our shop. But we’re the only ones here open to close, and we’re the reason the shop is so well-known.
    At first Vlad didn’t like it. It’s not good to be in the spotlight. But then he saw it as the perfect opportunity to launder some big accounts through here. I don’t know how big, and I don’t ask questions.
    I set my keys on the counter and take a look around. The place is everything I ever wanted. The entrance is spacious and open with floor to ceiling windows, and a large granite-topped counter in the center. The back wall is lined with art we’ve done. There are four sofas, two on each side, and a coffee table in between the two sets. Photo albums of what we’ve done in the past sit on the table.
    Two hallways lead to a total of eight rooms in the back. We're always comfortable while we're working since the other five artists helped decorate our rooms exactly how Needles and I wanted. Room six is our stockroom, and the last two are for the mob. They’re always locked, and I haven’t even looked in them for nearly a year. I like to forget Vlad has his hands in my shop. Some days I don’t even notice when the Koranav come in and out. For the most part, we ignore them, and they ignore us.
    It makes it easy for us both, and that’s the way I like it.
    It feels like home in here. I fucking love this place.
    “What’s going on?” he asks, turning from organizing a station cart. We’ve got all sorts of products for aftercare that the customers can buy.
    He looks back over his shoulder and then does a double take. “What's going on? Why the hell are you so fucking chipper?” he asks with a grin.
    “What? I can’t be happy?”
    “At eight in the morning? No. You’re a real unpleasant fucker this early.”
    I laugh at him and take a seat at the counter. “Met a girl who keeps pushing me away.”
    He chuckles and shakes his head. “She’s smart.” He stands up and takes a last look at everything he’s refilled. Looks good to me. I trust Needles to handle this shit. He can handle the business aspect of things.
    “You take a look at your first client?” he asks and I know why, too.
    “Yeah, gonna be fucking boring, but I got something fun planned later on.” My first client needs a touch-up and his ink refreshed. It’s fading and looking an ugly shade of green as a result. It sucks because it’s mindless work, just coloring in what someone else has done. I’m gonna do some fading on it though. I’ll give it a professional touch, but it’s still mindless.
    I hate doing those jobs almost as much as those damn anchor and butterfly tattoos. Nothing’s worse than when a young girl comes in and picks a generic tat out of a book, something that I’ve done a thousand times. I could draw them with my eyes closed at this point.
    If only I could get my hands on peaches. I bite down on the inside of my cheek thinking about how fucking smooth her skin was. I