SIX (2 page)

“I’m sorry,” I quickly push past my lips, lowering my brow in shame.

“I was working late last night on a client’s tattoo and crashed here.”

I gesture to the bed she hasn’t moved from.

“You don’t need to explain,” she tells me, shaking her head.

She won’t look at me and it makes me fucking angry with myself.

“Misty, look at me.”

“Erm, you’re naked.”

Her cheeks flush a beautiful crimson as her eyes dart up to my junk and then quickly back down to her lap, her teeth popping out to worry her bottom lip.

She’s twenty-five years old, surely this isn’t the first naked man she’s been around.

“It’s just a dick, Misty. I’m sure you’ve seen one before.”

I grab the pair of jeans from the chair I slung them over the night before and slip them up my legs.

“Not that big,” she mumbles under her breath.

Folding my arms over my chest, I quirk a brow at her.

“What was that?”

Her eyes pop wide and she quickly shakes her head. “Nothing, nothing.”

Standing from the bed, she reaches down to shut off the beeping alarm.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

“Misty?”

She stops mid-step, but doesn’t turn around to look at me.

“I’m sorry for grabbing you the way I did. It’s just—”

“It’s fine, Six. Really,” she offers over her shoulder before leaving me alone with my guilt and anger.

Three months earlier:

Rain hammered against the windows, causing them to rattle as lightening ignited the sky.

Have you ever felt the ground shake beneath your feet and not know whether it’s actually trembling or your heart is just pumping so fast in your chest it’s causing the blood to vibrate in your veins?

That’s how I felt seeing this woman push through the doors of my bar.

Her curvy little body drenched and glistening with rain, and hazel eyes peeking through strands of soaked, dark hair stuck to her perfect heart-shaped face.

Her entire frame jolted when a sneeze blasted from her nose.

A shiver vibrated through her at the same time, causing a little “Brrr” noise to pop from her lips.

It was the cutest shit I’d ever seen.

“Hey, I’m sorry, are you closed?” she asked, a hint of a southern drawl slipping through.

Her blue shorts and white cotton tee left nothing to the imagination.

She had a slightly rounded tummy, showing me she wasn’t one of those girls who ordered a salad and then pined after your steak and fries, and her tits were perky and plump.

Moving a little farther into the bar, her sandals squelched as her shoulders lifted and her arms came quickly around to hide the hard and inviting nipples tenting the fabric of her shirt.

“The weather man didn’t mention a storm,” she huffed, and that was when I realized I’d been standing there holding a bar stool while staring at her.

Placing the stool on the floor, I gestured for her to sit.

“We’re not open yet, but you’re welcome to wait out the rain. I can even get you a towel.”

A relieved smile graced her face and stole my breath.

Ruby red lips and a dimple denting her right cheek—damn, she was all kinds of beautiful.

Knowing my luck, it wasn’t likely she was in to casual sex, or filthy sex—fuck, I wanted to do all sorts of things to that sweet mouth of hers.

Quickly exiting the bar, I ran up to the apartment above to grab a towel from the batch Parker just washed for me and ignored the urge to take the one I used after my shower this morning just to watch her rub her body with something that had my scent on it.

I disregarded the flutter heart shit happening in my chest and reminded myself it was just a visceral reaction ignited from my carnal needs.

Sometimes you only had to see someone once to know you wanted to fuck them. That was what we were designed for—it was what drove us. I wouldn’t deny myself pleasure, but I didn’t fuck people I wasn’t compatible with, and that girl screamed slow love making, not hard, raw, rough, no strings attached fucking.

When I got back downstairs, she was tapping furiously on her phone and growling.

“You new to these parts?” I asked, offering her the towel, which she cuddled against her chest with a sigh.

“That obvious, huh?” She laughed and then sneezed again.

“I’m actually just passing through. I have a new job in the next town over I may end up being late for.”

I held up a bottle of whisky and gestured to a glass, offering her a shot to warm her up. Her eyes darted behind my head.

“It’s not even eleven,” she stated, pointing to the clock.

I wasn’t sure why that mattered or if I was supposed to reply, so I just stared at her until she squirmed and shook her head no.

“I’m okay…but thank you,” she quickly added before diverting her attention back to the phone.

Walking over to her, I pulled my cell from my pocket and slid it on the bar in front of her.

With a subtle movement, her eyes and body tracked my actions.

Being that close, the scent from her skin invaded my senses. She smelled of wild flowers sprinkled with fresh rain after a hot summer day.

“Do you want to use my phone?”

Smiling and dipping her eyes, she reached out and slid my cell back toward me.

“That’s really kind of you, but all my numbers are in my phone.”

I shoved my cell back in my pocket and tried not to think about the fact that her hand had been touching something now inches from my cock.

Needing the distraction, I started wiping some glasses so Parker didn’t have to when she arrived for her shift.

“So, what do you do?” I asked, opening a bottle of OJ and chugging it down.

Frowning, she shifted on the stool.

“Actually, I’m a bar manager.”

She gestured to the window where a sign advertising my need for a bar manager was taped. Since Ten left me this place and the tattoo shop adjoined to the bar, all my time and energy went into the shop, leaving the bar neglected in terms of a manager. As great of a barmaid as Parker was, she only wanted to work part time hours and didn’t have any accounting or managerial skills.

“Maybe it’s fate.”

Fucking torture was more like it.

How did I function around that place knowing she was in it? I couldn’t hire her. Her cute as shit dimple appeared again as her eyes dipped to her lap in embarrassment when I didn’t reply for a good minute.

Fuck it. “You’re hired.”

I try to ignore Misty as I walk through the bar to the shop out back, but her presence wills me to notice her, making it almost impossible to do anything else.

Her body moves in fluid motions, like she was made to dance, and the subtle swipes of her tongue over that thick lip as she concentrates so hard on the task at hand…damn, I could watch her all day.

Her eyes dart to me, then back to the rag she’s using to wash down the bar, her cheeks still flushed red.

The memory of the day she walked through those doors is still vivid in my mind. She lives a couple towns over, but manages to get here on time and is really fucking great at keeping the bar running like a well-oiled ship.

The tattoo shop is where I am full time now and that’s where I prefer to be.

Turns out, her daddy owned a small local bar while she was growing up.

When he died, his debts ate up the bar and everything else they had.

She talks of him fondly, but there’s pain in her voice when she mentions him or their old livelihood.

I know about losing everything, and maybe that’s what this pull to her is.

I’ve tried to keep my distance since my dick likes to greet her in full salute whenever she’s in my presence.

It’s like an excited fucking puppy leaving a wet trail of enthusiasm.

I had unfinished business I couldn’t risk tainting her with, though.

We may have losing everything in common, but that’s where it ended.

She’s a saint and I’m a sinner.

“Six?” Her soft tone reaches my ears before her scent swarms around me like an invisible wall halting me in my tracks as I make it through the adjoining door to the shop. Perfect, she had to follow me inside.

“What’s up?” I turn to face her and try to sound casual instead of frustrated as fuck she gives me blue balls every time she’s on shift.

My eyes focus straight in on the fact that she has two buttons missing on her blouse and her tits are protruding through the slit it’s created—deep cleavage I can slide my dick into if I just give in to the I-want-you-to-fuck-me eyes she gives me.

A small cough heaves her chest up and down, but draws my eyes to hers.

They are glazed with the same heat I always find when I look close enough.

“I need to change my blouse. A couple buttons came loose.”

My eyes drop back down to her cleavage like they’re magnets forcing me to.

“Okay, do you need help, or…?”

A gasp leaves her lips as she stutters to find a response. “I…I…”

“Why are you telling me?” I ask, confused as to why she’s flustered if that’s not what she wants.
Maybe get rid of the rest, make it match.

I smirk like a dirty pervert, feeling the pull of my lip at one side.

“I don’t have my car since it’s been giving me problems. I was going to ask for a ride,” she clarifies, looking down at her toes before flashing her eyes back at me and biting her lip.

I fist my hands to stop myself from rushing over there, throwing her up against the wall, and fucking her numb.

Just as I’m about to implode, the shop door opens and Lucky comes bowling through. Slowing to a halt, he stares between Misty and me, a half-eaten bagel hanging from his mouth.

“Did I interrupt something?” he mumbles around the bagel while pointing with his foot because his hands are full of bakery bags.

Striding across the shop, I snatch the bags from him and grin.

“My shit willpower,” I growl low before adding louder, “You’re taking Misty to get a new top.”

Looking over at her, he grins.

“That one looks mighty fine from where I’m standing.”

“Unless you’d rather be lying on the floor unconscious, I’d just go.”

Shrugging, he waves for her to follow him.

As the door is about to close behind them, her eyes clash with mine once more, and Lucky quips, “The puppies are trying to escape, huh?”

And just like that, I’m alone again.

Without seeing her, I know she’s as red as a crimson apple—just like I know she’ll be as sweet as one without even tasting her.

Lucky is good people and just like Misty, he was sent to me at a time when I needed him…or he needed me—either way, we were both lucky the day he decided to stop in my bar for some food. Lucky is the best artist I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot of tattoo artists—amateur and professional.

Coming in to the bar one day, I was automatically drawn to him.

Not in a sexual way, it was something akin to brotherly concern, and I had no idea where that emotion came from.

I was an only child to a sixteen-year-old runaway who died while giving me life.

I’d been placed with families who had children of their own, but I was always reminded they were loved and I was a pay check.

I think it was more paying forward what Ten had done for me.

I could see into him; I knew he’d been away and was lost.

I’d seen that shit a lot in my life and knew if he didn’t find something to pull him out of the darkness, it would drown him and he’d be lost to it forever.

Nine months ago:

“Jo dropped these off for you.” Parker smirked, pushing a bag of baked goods in my direction.

Jo worked at the bakery and I’d fucked her in the back of her shop one day.

She invited me back there for fresh bread, but the only thing that got kneaded was her tits and ass.

I was washing flour out of my crevices for days and she’d been sending baked goods ever since.