Alcohol You Later (23)
“Say less.”
“What is this place?” I ask when Ron pulls up next to a dumpster behind what looks to be a fucking crack house. “You know I’m not into drugs, Nick.” My heart starts pounding against my ribcage. “I could lose my job.”
“Relax, it’s nothing like that,” he says, helping me down from the vehicle, while allowing his eyes to rove over my body slowly, taking me in inch by inch. He hisses, drawing a hand to his chin in admiration. “Have I told you yet how beautiful you look?”
I glance down at my black leather skirt and gold studded bralette, carefully chosen with this little experiment of his in mind. He wants delayed gratification? I’m gonna make sure he feels it in his loins every time he looks my way. “Sure I’m not overdressed?” I tease, fingering my cleavage.
He casts me a pair of warning eyes. “You have no plans to make this easy on me, do you?”
“As if.” I roll my eyes, twisting my hair like a total valley girl.
“Come on, ya hussy.” He takes my hand, heading for the rusty back door that looks like it’s about to fall clean off its hinges.
“Nick…” I dig my heels into the gravel, looking around ominously. “This place is creepy. It feels like there should be horror music playing in the background.”
He places a hand at the small of my bare back, causing a shiver to shoot straight up my spine as he gently urges me forward. “Don’t you trust me?”
“I do,” I say, still dragging my feet. “Are you certain we’re at the right place?”
I’m starting to wonder if we should’ve stopped off for tetanus shots on the way over.
He hooks an arm around my neck, pulling me closer before wrapping the knuckles of his other hand against the door.
“Oh my God,” I scream, practically climbing onto his shoulders. “Did you see that?”
“See what?”
“That rat! It just crawled under the porch… The porch we’re standing on!”
Slowly, his knuckle starts tracing my spine, up and down…up and down. “Relax, pretty girl.” He’s putting forth a colossal effort not to laugh at me.
I’m about to say fuck it and run back to join Ron in the truck when the door swings open.
“Nicholas Potter, how the fuck you doin’ man?” A scrawny guy with ink covering every exposed inch of his skin is there to greet us. He’s got spiky black hair and stretched-out lobes. The kindness in his smile relaxes me, and he appears lucid enough.
“I’m good,” Nick answers, releasing me to give him one of those one-armed handshake hug things guys are so fond of. “This is my…Raven,” he stammers, shooting me an awkward smile. “This is my best friend, Raven.”
Most girls would be hurt by being addressed as such, but I’m over the moon that he just tripped all over his words trying to define our relationship. He may not be ready to put a name to it, but Nicholas all but admitted that whatever the hell we are is deserving of a title far greater than friends. With him, it’s all about baby steps.
“Nice to meet you, doll,” he says, before ushering us inside. “I’m Max.”
I breathe a huge sigh of relief when I find the inside to be bright and sterile. “A tattoo shop?” I look back over my shoulder at Nick with a big question mark on my face.
“Can you give us a minute?” Nick’s eyes cut to his friend.
“Sure thing.” He nods, bowing out with a hand raised. “Take your time,” he adds before disappearing into a door behind the front desk.
Nick turns my way, taking hold of my shoulders and bolting his eyes with mine. “Okay, so I got this idea last night…after you fell asleep…and you can say no, if you want. I promise you won’t hurt my feelings.”
“What idea?” I giggle. He’s so excited. It could be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, this giant of a man reduced to a ball of nervous energy.
“I thought we could—maybe…” His grip tightens. “Get best friend tattoos?”
I give a few hard blinks while assessing his face to see if he’s actually serious. “Like the necklaces?” I cough, trying to disguise a laugh. “Each half of a heart?”
He grunts. “Nothing that awful,” he assures me, furling his lip. “I want your words across the back of my neck. ‘I’ll keep you safe,’ in your handwriting.” He chews his lip nervously, getting the wrong idea when I don’t respond. “Is that too corny?” he asks.
“Nick…” I punch him in the shoulder. “You big dumb dumby… it’s the sweetest thing ever.”
“So…yeah?”
“Yes!” I throw my arms around his neck, practically strangling him with my enthusiasm.
“And maybe you could get what I always say to you.” He smooths a hand down the back of my head, pulling me closer so his lips are pressing against my ear, then trailing a finger over the spot his words would go, sending a chill shooting down my spine. “I’ll keep you wild.”
Yes. Yes, he will. I’m damn near convulsing with the desire those four words just stirred to life inside me. “They aren’t matching tattoos if we don’t both get one.” My words are throaty. There is no disguising the affect he has on my libido.