Page 38 of Meant for You

Her soft lips.

Her taste.

Her tongue.

Fuck. Me.

The way she’d straightened her spine, determination filling her gaze before she leaned in. The tentative, sweet-as-sugar way she’d started kissing me. I could have kept on kissing her for hours, days, fucking years and not get enough of her.

No, I hadn’t liked that we’d been interrupted, but I couldn’t say I wasn’t happy that it was Tanner who did the interrupting. No one was going to go near Everly while they thought she was with me, and I’d make sure that everyone did.

Tanner had a thing for her, and he’d let me know when I got to the gym yesterday, since he’d seen us dancing at The Mule, and had flat-out asked me if I was seeing her.

When I’d just smiled, because I didn’t owe that fucker anything, he’d looked on the verge of losing his shit.

He suggested we spar, not me, and I was more than happy to oblige the bastard. Catching Eves and me kissing had just pissed him off more, and he’d brought that rage into the ring. Like a fucking amateur.

The muscles in my back tightened.

And Everly had watched it, the whole damn thing.

I squeezed my fingers tight around the wad of paper towels I’d been using and tossed it in the trash. The last time she saw me fight had been a very different situation.

What did she think, seeing me in the ring? Was she upset?

She’d smiled before she’d run away, but it was false as hell. When I’d texted her this morning and told her what time I’d be at the ranch later, I hadn’t been able to tell from her reply.

So, yeah, I was anxious to see her tonight for a lot of reasons.

Someone tapped on the door. “Come on in,” I said as I slid my stool out of the way.

“I’ve got my own design, but I’m open to suggestions,” a very deep, very familiar voice rumbled through the room.

My gaze sliced to the door, and Bull stood there watching me carefully.

I straightened. “You’re my client?”

“You got a problem with that?” Bull said as he walked in and laid out his design on my drafting table. It was Quinn’s name.

I swallowed, a fucking lump instantly forming in my throat. “What about…I thought you’d get Cal to…” Christ, what the fuck was wrong with me? “Yeah, no problem.”

Bull was my cousin but was as close to me as Cal. He’d repeatedly bailed me out of scrapes, making sure I didn’t fucking kill myself being an idiot.

If it hadn’t been for him, I would have gone to prison eighteen months ago without doubt. He and Cal had looked out for me, were always there for me. No matter what stupid shit I did.

Bull had also hooked me up with a job through the Ramblers in Black Stone when I’d needed to get away.

I’d never been able to repay him or Cal for everything they’d done, and for him to come to me now—me, the fuckup, the reckless idiot who’d let them all down repeatedly—to ink his woman’s name on his skin—yeah, it meant something.

But he knew that.

Bull looked down at the design he’d done. “What do you think? Any suggestions?”

The lettering was kickass, but that wasn’t a surprise. Bull was extremely talented. I did have a suggestion, though, but I was hesitant to share. Bull was a far more experienced tattoo artist. He knew what he wanted on his skin. I glanced up at him.

His brows lifted. “Got an idea?”

I cleared my throat ’cause it was tight as hell. “You could do something behind it. Make it pop.”