Sinful Desire

“I did try. I tried so hard.” Her voice sounded as if it was about to break. Then suddenly she plastered on a huge smile as an older man with gray hair strode up to them.

“Clyde Graser,” he said to Ryan, holding out a hand, and Ryan spent the next few minutes chatting with the man who was in some way responsible for this incredible woman and him growing even closer. If Clyde hadn’t pressured Sophie, she might not have asked him to the event tonight. And knowing they had this date had pushed them faster into each other’s arms.

But then, Ryan also believed that he and Sophie were an inevitability. Funny, because he’d never been one to put any stock in fate and love. But he did now, and if this man in front of him played a role in driving him closer to the woman he loved, then he deserved his gratitude, even if it was veiled in the guise of something else.

“I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for the community center. It means so much to so many people,” Ryan said.

Then Sophie remarked that it was nearly time to bring Clyde on stage with the center director, so Ryan said goodbye to the two of them.

He turned around to look for Colin, but once again his younger brother was quite busy with the brunette.

*

Sure, there were other people here. Quite possibly Colin should talk to them. Maybe even interact with his brother Ryan. But Elle hadn’t slipped away from him yet, so he remained at the bar with her, club soda in his hand, a glass of water in hers.

“Did you get the new ink you were talking about?” she asked.

“I did. I’m close to the ten percent mark now,” Colin said, not looking away from her, because how could he? He hadn’t seen her dressed to the nines before, and she was jaw-droppingly stunning in her evening finery. But then, she was hot-as-sin in the jeans, short-sleeve blouses, and the little flat shoes she wore on the days he saw her at the community center, so he wasn’t surprised. This dress though—he was sure it had been painted onto her lush figure.

He wanted to tear it off.

She laughed. “No way are you that covered in tattoos,” she said, calling him on his fib. She was right—he wasn’t ten percent slathered in ink. He had plenty though, and she was an admitted tattoo junkie. Inked herself, the back of her neck boasted a line of sparrows. He’d kissed those birds a few times. Not enough as far as he was concerned.

“Fine. Maybe not yet. But close.”

“Are you going to show it to me? The new one?”

He raised an eyebrow and shot her a dirty look, then moved his hands to his belt buckle as if he were going to take off his pants.

“Colin!” she hissed under her breath, her eyes widening. She waved her hands frantically as if to stop him.

“What?” he said, deadpan. “It’s on my hip.”

Her eyes fluttered closed momentarily. Maybe she was picturing his hip. Or him unzipping his pants. Or perhaps the image of her lips on his new ink had slid in front of her eyes. Good. He had that image working overtime, too.

“So that’s a no?” he asked, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “Even if I told you it matches your favorite one on me?”

She’d seen them all, from the ink that covered his right shoulder and sloped to his elbow, to the art on his pecs—even the illustration that started on his lower back and curved to the top of his ass. Hardly anyone knew he had more than a dozen tattoos. He was a suit-and-tie kind of guy, given his job. But when the suit and tie came off, he was the guy with tattoos.

And “the bad boy,” as Elle called him. That was why she kept him at an arm’s length. Well, not all the time. But enough.

“I do, Colin. But not here.”

He gripped her elbow. “Let’s go somewhere.”

She inhaled sharply and shook her head. “We can’t keep doing that.”

“Why?”

“Because. I’ve told you a million times why.”

He leaned in closer and fingered a strand of her long, soft chestnut hair. “I could do that thing you like so much.”

She jammed a hand against his chest. “You’re incorrigible,” she said, but she didn’t push him away. Instead, she curled her fingers around the fabric of his shirt. “You make me crazy. But Sophie is going to introduce me and then I’m going to introduce Clyde, so you can’t do this right now. This flirting thing.” She let go of his shirt, then narrowed her eyes and parked her hands on her hips. “And now you’ve distracted me. So talk about something else, because I don’t want to go up there with my mind on your damn hips.”

His lips quirked up. “Fine, fine. I’ve been meaning to show you a picture my brother-in-law gave me of a guy he’s seen around. See if you know him. I think he’s one of the guys from the center who plays hoops,” he said, reaching into his back pocket for his phone. He came up empty. “Ah, shit. I left it in my car.”

“Send it to me later, okay?”

“I will,” he said, then added, “Along with a picture of my new ink?”

She shook her head, but under her breath she said yes.