Ink (The Haven Series) by Torrie McLean Page B

attention. One deft move on his part would be all it would take for those slim fingers to slip down to lace through his ...  “Just need you to do a tat t.”
    He turned his gaze on her at that, almost suspiciously. Didn’t know who he thought he was kidding though – if she asked him, he’d have a fucking hard time saying no to much with those soft eyes looking up at him. “Huh? Thought that was your job? I don’t do first-timers.”
    “I know – that’s why you’re gonna do me.”
    Shit, she had to know how that sounded. Gray eyes sparkling mischievously, hint of a smile. Oh, smart little bitch knew all right.
    “What’s the matter, Colt? Don’t reckon you’re up to it?”
    But the suggestion of a challenge just brought a smirk to his lips and he threw back the rest of his whiskey in one gulp, slamming the empty glass down on the nearest table. “Let’s do this ...”
    She wasn’t making it easy for him though, leaving all the decisions in his hands. Literally. It was a hell of a leap of faith, but then they’d been there before and when the stakes had been considerably higher. He liked that - his control; her trust.
    And regardless of the design - though he did already have something in mind - when it came to the placement, the possibilities were endless, if hampered a little by their surroundings. Tempting as it was to have that smooth golden skin laid out under his hands like the perfect blank canvas, no way was he having her strip in the middle of the clubhouse like some damn skank. Maybe if he didn’t screw this up, she’d let him ink her again. In private.
    “Gimme your hands,” he ordered, once she was settled on the recliner that had been set up and he had all her equipment at his disposal. With both her hands in his, palm side down, he wondered if she paid this much attention to every detail of him when their roles were reversed.
    “Gonna read my fortune?” she teased, making him first grin and then inwardly groan at the corny retort that had almost slipped from his lips. Had he really been about to make a tall, dark, stranger crack? Fucking hell.
    But luckily he had instead silently assessed the slim fingers and the short pale pink nails, taking in the slim silver band on her right index finger and the chunkier thumb ring on her opposite hand. He turned her hands over in his and continued his appraisal, noting the thick leather strap of her cuff-style watch before letting go of her left hand. And tracing his fingers over the pulse point on her right wrist, he looked up at her for any sign of non-consent.
    Callie simply shrugged and relaxed in her seat as he reached for a pair of thin latex gloves and got started.
    And judging by the glances he spared her, while she kept up a quiet running commentary for the benefit of her wide-eyed would-be client, her own eyes never left his face. She seemed content to both let him get on with it and on not looking until her tattoo was finished.
    “Does it ... hurt?” Lorena piped up anxiously.
    “Nah,” Callie assured her, before allowing herself a little grin. “Well, only in a good way ...”
    Damn, was she trying to kill him?
    ***
    “Oh, come on , Michael,” Hunt was sighing when Colton snapped back to attention, with just the right air of melodrama in her attitude. “Humour me and pretend for a second you’re capable of wearing the big boy pants here. In case I need to spell it out for you, your clients haven’t exactly been hauled in for stealing cookies from girl scouts. We are dealing with a class A felony. If these two are found guilty, they’ll get life in--”
    “Life in prison. Yeah, yeah.” It was Michael’s turn to roll his eyes. “Thanks for the Law 101 update, darlin’. But you see that little if you had in there? Little word, big impact.”
    The brunette actually smiled and sat down again at the table, leaning forward invitingly as she adopted a conspiratorial air.
    “See, you should have let me finish ... darlin’ ,”