Too Sweet (Hayes Brothers #3)(8)

The powerful aura surrounding him makes me want to stand to attention, shouting sir, yes, sir, but at the same time, I imagine crawling onto his lap and hiding my face in the crook of his tattooed neck.

“Are you done?” The coldness in his voice balances just above freezing, tinged with husky anger that sends chills down my spine. “I want to check how bad it is.”

On instinct, I angle my body the other way.

As if that’ll save me...

Despite the fight or flight response urging me to flee, my insides turn hot when you’re gorgeous resonates through my head. I’ve recalled those words too many times. I’ve recalled his broad shoulders, dark hair, and low, rough voice even more.

“Thank you,” I say, clasping my damp skirt to make sure he can’t yank it up and check the burn on my thigh, but at the same time, I defy my instincts, meeting his searing gaze. “It’s not that bad.”

He studies me for a moment like he’s trying to read my mind, his features pinched, a muscle feathering his jaw. “Fine. What are you getting done?”

Toby interjects with a short, awkward laugh. “Nothing now, right?”

I’m about to agree when an idea pops into my head. It’s not what I wanted, but it’s close enough and still marks the time I spend playing Bridge. “Is there anything wrong with Queen of Hearts?”

“No, that’s cool. You want that?”

“Yes.” I touch the outer side of my wrist. “Here.”

“Queen of Hearts?” Nico asks, summoning my attention just as Knox approaches with another black coffee for him. “The card suit?”

“Yeah, she plays Bridge,” Toby answers for me, pushing his food aside. “Didn’t you say over the phone that you need to head back to the office?”

“Plans change,” Nico clips, pinning Toby with a pointed stare. “I’m done for the day.”

“Why didn’t you grab something to eat?”

“I ate.”

Toby cocks an eyebrow but loses the stare battle and shrugs, looking back at me. “You got any tattoos? Do you know how this will go?”

“I’ve got a few. I’m aware of the process.”

“Okay, let’s get this done. It won’t take long.” He gets up, gesturing for me to follow. “You want black or red ink?”

I sit on the white torture chair, glancing away from the mirror. “Red, please.”

“How are you with pain? Should I fetch the anesthetic?”

“No, don’t worry. I won’t cry.”

He smirks, hauling a small stool closer, then positions my wrist on the arm support. “How’s your sister?”

“She’s okay. Partying like always.”

“I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“She lived in London for a few months but didn’t like it and moved back two weeks ago. She’s organizing a girls’ night out tonight. You’ll find her in Q if you missed her.”

“What a coincidence.” He glances at Nico, clearly amused. “That’s where we’re going tonight. You need to meet her, man. I don’t know another girl who can party like Aisha.”

“I know her. She’s not my favorite person.”

The first sharp prickle of the needle assaults my nerve endings, but I’m too busy with my thoughts to feel pain, however mild. My sister is a nymphomaniac. Self-proclaimed, but I bet the doctors would agree.

The mere thought of Nico knowing her turns my stomach. Has he snuck out of our house after making her scream in the bedroom adjacent to mine?

He makes my heart race for two different reasons, and I’m not sure which is stronger: lust or unease.

I wince, what Toby misinterprets for pain.

“Five minutes, and I’m done,” he assures.

“Cody asked you last week if you’re okay to go back on stage,” Nico says, the sharpness of his voice softening with every word. “Are you a dancer?”

“Um, no. I sometimes work with the DJ who played at the party. Your brothers like the covers we record, so they asked me to sing a few songs.”

He falls silent, staring into my eyes with the intensity of a diving hawk. “Piano, vocals... What else?”

“Piano is my passion. Singing is just for fun.” With my free hand, I find the corner of my dress, twisting the fabric between my fingers. “I write songs, and thanks to Six, I meet people from the industry.”

“Do you have time later? I want to show you something.”

God, how can an invitation sound like a threat?

The thought of being alone with him makes me feverish, stressed, and snug at the same time. Whenever he looks at me, my legs want to run, while my ovaries would prefer to crawl out of my body and stroke him.

“Sorry, but I have plans.”

“Next time,” he replies, glancing at my wrist, and for once, I read him with ease when his eyes widen a little. “You good?”

“She’s fine,” Toby supplies, positioning a small towel under my wrist to catch the excess blood. “You know the anesthetic’s not an injection, right? It’s a cream, Mia. Next time, ask for it instead of taking pain meds before your appointment,” he chuckles.

Pain meds are not the reason I’m bleeding so much from a tiny tattoo, but considering four artists turned me down in the past when I explained I might bleed excessively, I don’t correct Toby.