Say Anything by Carla Ryan

Author:Carla Ryan [Ryan, Carla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance
Publisher: ButterflyTattoo
Published: 2018-07-10T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

ArtRageous is almost as dank and dingy as Bulldog’s gym, but I get the feeling that’s meant to be part of its charm. The décor is conspicuously seedy, especially given the high-rent district it calls home. Rich clients want to think they’re somehow tough and “street” while they’re getting the ink that’s become almost the norm among young people these days.

A tin bell tinkles over the door as I walk in off the avenue. Once my eyes adjust to the dark, I can see Anna looking at me with a satisfied grin. At least, I’m pretty sure it’s Anna—her hair is bright pink now instead of blue.

“Well,” she says. “I guess I win the bet.”

“What bet?”

“The silent bet I made with your girlfriend that night at Bulldog’s,” she says. “I knew you’d be here eventually, even if you didn’t come back to jiu-jitsu.”

“That’s a little smug, don’t you think?”

The words are out of my mouth before I realize it… and I think I like them. It was smug of her, and I’m going to call her on it, even if I don’t know her that well. This is the new Sloan Foster.

Score one for the country mouse, Chase’s voice says in my mind.

Anna ignores my comment and waves me towards an old vinyl barber’s chair. “So you’re ready to take the plunge. It’s okay with your significant other, then?”

I feel heat rise in my chest.

“I don’t need anyone else’s permission,” I say crossly. “I do what I want.”

“Of course.” She leans in close and I catch a glimpse of her boobs peeking out through the V-neck of her tee-shirt. “See anything you like?”

Suddenly it’s like the moment she was straddling me all over again, and I can’t think of anything to say.

“On the walls, I mean,” she says with a sly smile, pointing at a number of breathtaking ink drawings hanging there. “Those are samples of my work.”

They really are stunning—horses, a crow, a poker hand with the words “all in” written in script underneath.

“Beautiful,” I say.

“Thank you,” she replies. “But what do you think of the art?”

I swallow hard at her implication and manage to ignore it.

“I don’t really know what I want just yet,” I say. “If I’m going to get a tattoo, I want it to have meaning. Something that’s very personal to me.”

“Of course,” she says. “I wouldn’t do anything less. Where do you want it to be?”

I think for a moment. “What would you suggest? I don’t want it to be visible, except to someone who really knows me. You know?”

Anna nods. “Stand up.”

I obey and the next thing I know, she’s yanked down my shorts and is staring at my ass, covered (if you can call it that) solely by my g-string.

“Perfect,” she says.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I stammer.

“Lower back and upper glutes,” she says. “Best place for a ‘personal’ tattoo. The boss won’t see it, but the people around the pool will. And the one in your bed, of course.”

I blush again—it seems to be my natural response to her.

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