My eyes travel south, taking in his plain black tee that stretches tight across his broad chest and even tighter around his biceps. A colorful sleeve of tattoos decorates his right arm, and as far as I can tell the left is completely bare. He’s sexy in a rugged sort of way. He’s also the complete opposite of the guys I’m normally attracted to, yet I find myself enraptured.
The stranger clears his throat, and my eyes snap up to find piercing blue eyes staring back at me. When he cocks an eyebrow, I realize that I’ve been caught checking him out. My first instinct is to avert my eyes and murmur an apology, but then I realize that’s what the old Brittany would do. And I dropped her off by the curb a long time ago.
“What?” I say, shrugging unapologetically.
“Were you checking me out?” The sound of his gravelly voice does things to me that a voice should never be able to do to another human being. I squeeze my thighs together to suppress the tingling that it caused.
“Well, that depends.”
“On what?”
“Do you want me to check you out?” I ask.
He nods and moves past me, his shoulder grazing mine. “Bold. I like it. What can I do for you?”
Furrowing my brow, I tilt my head. I totally had him pegged for my next conquest—aka one-night stand—but I have a strange feeling that he just brushed me off. I shake my head, trying to remember the question. Oh yeah. Connor. “I have a ten o’clock appointment with Connor. He’s late.”
The stranger looks down at his watch and then back at me. “He’s not late. It’s only nine fifty-five.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, fine.” I walk over and plop down in a waiting room chair, then cross my legs, knee over knee. “Will you call him and see how much longer he’s going to be?”
“You in a hurry?” the guy asks.
Not really. No. “Maybe.”
He nods and sets his to-go coffee cup and brown paper bag on the front desk, then sits down and pulls out his phone. “He won’t be long.”
“Let’s hope,” I mumble, grabbing a Tattoo Weekly magazine off the table in front of me.
“Would you like a donut?” I glance up to see the man holding up a chocolate-covered doughnut. It looks delicious, and I’m two seconds away from accepting his offer when I remember my closet full of clothes. That one doughnut will easily take me hours at the gym to burn off.
“No, thank you.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
Smiling tightly, I look back at the magazine and spend the next several minutes absently thumbing through it. I skim a few articles and then toss the magazine on the table and grab another, my frustration growing with each passing second.
“Are you ready?”
I glance up to find the sexy stranger standing in front of me. Putting the magazine back on the table, I look around. “Is Connor here?”
The man smiles, his full lips parting to reveal perfectly white teeth. There’s a smudge of chocolate near the corner of his mouth, and I briefly wonder what he would do if I stepped forward and licked it off.
“I’m Connor,” he says. His words catch me off guard and all thoughts of chocolate drift from my mind. My eyes roam his face, only this time I take a closer look.
“You’re Connor?” I ask incredulously.
“Wow,” he says, chuckling. “Don’t look so surprised. I take it I’m not what you expected.” His voice is clipped, and I instantly berate myself for the way that came out.
“No.” I shake my head vehemently. “I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. You’re an incredibly attractive man. It’s just that you look different from when you were on the show. You didn’t have the facial hair—or the long hair, for that matter—both of which I find unbelievably sexy.” Connor’s eyes widen and I realize what I said. “I can’t believe I just said that. Damn it,” I mumble, averting my eyes. This is what happens when I get nervous, and for some strange reason, Connor makes me nervous. Sighing, I decide to give up. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”
My eyes are trained on the floor as I contemplate leaving to avoid further embarrassment. I’m still undecided when a pair of Chuck T’s enters my line of sight. I smile because those are my favorite shoes. “So you like the beard?” he says suggestively, causing me to look up. His blue eyes are swirling with a mixture of amusement and lust.
“I like the beard.”
Connor grins as though he just found out he won a prize. Without saying a word, he steps away and I follow behind. Connor leads me into a small room in the back of the shop. “Did you find something in the magazine that you want?”
“I actually have a picture of what I want.”
“Let’s see it.”
I walk toward him and hold out my phone. Connor takes the phone, examines the picture and then looks up.
“Where do you want it?”
“Here.” Lifting my right arm, I tug my shirt up and point to the spot along my rib cage, just under my breast. I like the spot because it’s easily covered—and in my line of work, that’s what I need.
“I like that,” he says, handing me my phone. “But what if we angled it just a bit like this…” Connor puts a finger at the top of my ribs, and a tiny zap of electricity jolts through my body. He looks up, his eyes searching mine before he drags the tip of his index finger along my skin. His touch leaves a trail of goose bumps. My pulse quickens, and it takes everything I have not to beg him to keep touching me when he pulls away.
“What do you think?” he asks. His pupils are dilated, his breathing a bit faster, and I can’t help but wonder if he was as affected by that as I was.
“I”—my voice cracks and I flush with embarrassment—“I like it. Plus, you’re the expert so I’ll leave it completely up to you.”
Connor swallows hard and my eyes follow the movement. “Good choice.” He turns away, and I’m left wondering how in the world I could find an Adam’s apple sexy. “Alright, have a seat here,” he says, gesturing toward the reclined chair, and I sit down. “Turn this way.” He angles my body to the left. “Is that comfortable?”
“Yup.”
“Good,” he mumbles, tugging my shirt up to expose my right side again. The soft cotton slips down and he pushes it back up, only this time his hand brushes against my bra, grazing the outside of my breast. Another jolt passes through me, only this time it’s stronger. I bite down on my bottom lip. His eyes snap to mine, and I know—I know—that he felt that. His sinful eyes flash with heat, and I watch him take a ragged breath before turning away.
“So … is, uh, is this your first tattoo?” he stammers, bringing his eyes back to mine.
“Nope. I have one other one.”
“Good, so you know what to expect.” I nod, and then he smiles brightly before getting his equipment ready. “Okay,” he says. He rubs my skin with something cool and I presume he’s prepping it. “Let’s do this.”
The faint whir of the machine signals that this is happening, and I squeeze my eyes shut as he gently pulls my skin taut. Okay, time to go to my happy place, which just so happens to feature none other than my sexy-as-hell tattoo artist.
My mind drifts into eroticland—as I like to call it—as I picture Connor sliding his hand up my bare thigh. He hooks a finger under the side of my panties, and with his wicked eyes on me, he slips a finger in—
“I like the quote,” he says, pulling me from my fantasy.
“Do you know what it means?” I ask, opening my eyes and then quickly looking away. I’m a doctor, so you’d think that the sight of blood wouldn’t bother me. And it doesn’t, as long as it isn’t my blood.
“I’ve put it on a few other people. Looked it up one time. It’s deep.”
“Yeah”—I take a big breath, holding it in a for a few beats before letting it out—“well ...” My words trail off because I don’t really know what else to say, and I sure as hell don’t want to talk about why this particular tattoo means so much to me.
Connor goes quiet
. I can feel his eyes burning a hole through my head, and I glance up. His eyes catch mine for a brief second before he looks back down, but that brief second was enough to tell me that he had my number.
“So it’s personal, huh?”
“What?” I scoff. “A girl can’t get a tattoo just to get a tattoo?”
“Of course she can, but you’re different. This is personal.” He cocks his head to the side, his hair falling in front of his face. I have to fist my hands together to keep from brushing it away so that I can better see his face.
“Okay, fine, you’re right. It’s personal.”
“I’m always right,” he says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It would be prudent of you to remember that.” I cock my head to the side just as the machine turns off and Connor looks up. He has one hand settled at the base of my waist, the other holding the needle off to the side. His eyes are smoldering, pinning me in my seat.
My tongue darts out, running a slow path along my lower lip, and I watch as his eyes follow along. Oh yeah, this is happening. Not one to beat around the bush, I decide to go for it. It’s obvious we’re attracted to each other, so there’s no reason for this not to happen.
“What are you doing when you get off work?”
Connor’s eyebrows push into his hairline. “Are you asking me out on a date?” he asks.
My heart clenches inside my chest and I take a deep breath, because as much as I’d like to say yes, that just isn’t who I am anymore. “Nope,” I state impassively. “I gave up dating.”
“You don’t date?” he asks incredulously.
“I fuck.”
Lips parted, he nods slowly several times as though he’s processing what I just said—and deciding what he’s going to do about it.
“Well, that’s too bad, because I gave up fucking.”
His cheeks flush, probably because he realized what he just admitted to, and I can’t help but laugh. “So you don’t have sex?”
Connor rolls his eyes, and even though I’m not a fan of the gesture, he makes it look sexy. My guess is that he makes most things look sexy. “Of course I have sex. I just stopped fucking. I gave up the meaningless one-night stands. I want more.”
“Ahhh.” I nod. “Well, good luck with that.” Connor doesn’t say another word. He puts the tattoo gun up and then holds up a mirror so I can check out my new ink. “It’s perfect,” I state, my eyes roaming the beautiful script.
“I’m glad you like it.” Connor puts the mirror down, and slathers some Vaseline on my tattoo. He follows it up with a bandage, all the while rattling off the aftercare instructions.
“Are we done?” I ask, secretly hoping that he’ll tell me no. At least then I’d have a reason to stay.
“We’re done.” I push up from the chair. Connor nods his head toward the front desk and I follow him up there to pay. We seem to have fallen into a comfortable silence, and his presence alone is calming in a way I can’t explain. I wish like hell that he would’ve taken me up on my offer, because I have no doubt that it would’ve been fucking fantastic.
Without a word, Connor swipes my card, then I sign the receipt and shove my wallet back in my purse. When I look up, Connor is watching me intently. “Thank you,” I murmur.
He shakes his head. His blue eyes are two swirling pools of liquid heat, and what I wouldn’t give to dive in and beg him to change his rules for just one night. “Don’t thank me. It was my pleasure.”
We stand there for several more seconds, the air crackling around us, and when my phone beeps in my purse, I decide that’s my cue to leave. “I better go.”
“When will I see you again?” he hollers as I walk toward the door.
Spinning around, I give him my best come-hither look. “When I decide to get another tattoo.”
“Or?” he asks, a grin splitting his ruggedly handsome face.
“When you decide to fuck.”
His jaw nearly hits the floor.
Brittany, one. Connor, zero.
I think I’m going to like playing this game.
First and foremost, I have to thank my husband, Tom. The endless amount of support and encouragement you give me while writing is truly amazing. Thank you for making sure the house stayed clean, the laundry got done, and the kids were fed. Thank you for taking over nighttime duty so that I could stay up late and write. Your love and support is what gets me through the day and I’m so incredibly thankful for you.
To my dear friend, Liz Berry. One of the highlights of my trip to Hawaii was getting to know you. You are such an amazing person and I am beyond thankful for your friendship. Thank you for your advice and encouragement, and thank you for taking a chance and reading my books. #TT
A big huge thank you to Perfect Pear Creative Covers for creating yet another beautiful cover. You know my vision better than I do.
Stacey Ryan Blake, aka the best damn formatter in the world, thank you for making the inside of my books look beautiful. And, thank you for putting up with all of my last minutes changes. You’re amazing and you’re never getting rid of me ;)
To the best damn sprinting partner in the world, Michelle Lynn. This book wouldn’t have happened without your encouragement and our late night sprints. Thank you so much girl <3
Last and certainly not least, thank you to every single one of my readers. Thank you for begging for more Tyson and Harley, and thank you for wanting more Brit (which you’ll be getting soon). Your support means so much to me and without you and I wouldn’t be doing what I love.
K.L. Grayson resides in a small town outside of St. Louis, MO. She is entertained daily by her extraordinary husband, who will forever inspire every good quality she writes in a man. Her entire life rests in the palms of six dirty little hands, and when the day is over and those pint-sized cherubs have been washed and tucked into bed, you can find her typing away furiously on her computer. She has a love for alpha-males, brownies, reading, tattoos, sunglasses, and happy endings…and not particularly in that order.
If you enjoyed reading On Solid Ground as much as I enjoyed writing it, I hope you’ll consider leaving a review here.
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Books
A Touch of Fate Series
Where We Belong
Pretty Pink Ribbons
On Solid Ground – a Harley and Tyson Novella
Other Titles
A Lover’s Lament
Continue reading for a preview of KL Grayson’s third full length novel in the A Touch of Fate Series, Just For Tonight.
Also, stay tuned for Brit’s book, Live Without Regret, which will have a very special release in March 2016.
Just For Tonight
By K.L. Grayson
Coming 2016
We all have our weaknesses…rich, decadent chocolate, fancy designer handbags, overpriced stilettos in every color under the sun. My weakness is Benny Catalano. To call Benny tall, dark, and handsome would be a massive understatement. His giant, tattooed, drool-worthy frame sits at an impressive six foot three. Thick dark hair sticks up in every direction, giving him that notorious I-just-had-crazy-monkey-sex look that most women love. And the five o’clock shadow on his perfectly square jaw could bring any woman to her knees. Benny wasn’t just smacked with the handsome stick. Nope, he was smacked and then beaten with the Adonis bad boy belt.
My only problem … he’s playing hard to get.
I’ve never had to work too hard for anything, especially not a man. My father is the most influential music producer in the world—I’m used to getting what I want. But if I’ve learned anything from dear ol’ dad, it’s that money can’t buy happiness and the best things in life don’t come easy. And Benny is worth having, although the way he
’s been dangling the goods and giving nothing away, he sure as hell is making things difficult.
The question is, why?
What he doesn’t know is that this privileged socialite isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. If the man of my dreams is the end result, I’m ready to put in the work to make him mine.
My name is Mia Brannigan, and this is my story.
On Solid Ground (A Touch of Fate) Page 8