And it feels good.
I may even lift my ban on dick for the night because his is pressing into my hip and it’s ... well—I could be wrong here, God knows I have been before—but I have no doubt there are multiple happy endings in my future if I go home with SVD.
I don’t know how long we kiss like that, whether it’s seconds or minutes, but I’ve forgotten all about my ex.
I pull away, desperate for air because my lungs are burning and mysteriously lacking oxygen. I glance back at Nick, but he’s not where I last left him. In fact, I think I can just make out his retreating form through the crowd.
“Yes!” I put out my fist for SVD to bump but his brow creases, his fingers are still smoothing the flesh of my hips, his eyes burning like fine whiskey. He clears his throat and offers me his hand. “I’m Gabe.”
And I’m dickstruck. All I can do is stare at his lush, kissable lips that were just touching mine and say, “Like the angel?”
“Oh no, Freckles. Angels don’t fuck like me.” His grin is every bit devil.
I pout, because really ... worst time ever to stumble across a hot Viking. I mean, if I break my no peen rule, I’ll owe Clementine two hundred dollars and my broke, sex-starved ass cannot afford that.
“Hey, buddy.” An older guy who looks like a cross between Santa and a biker claps his meaty hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “Did you forget about that little problem we discussed earlier?”
Ex repellant winces and scrubs his free hand over his mouth and chin. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
The two share a pointed look and I take that as my cue to get the hell out of here because I already successfully avoided sex with Nick the Dick and kissed a hot Viking. Whatever comes out of Badass Santa’s mouth next is likely to crush my soul, along with my hopes and dreams, because let’s face it, a man this perfect is never single.
“Well,” I say, jamming my hands into the pockets of my dress. “It was nice kissing you, but I should go.”
“Freckles.” He holds out his palms in a what the fuck gesture as I back away. “Come on, you’re leaving already?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“But I never got your name.”
I shake my head with a flirty smile. “Nope. You didn’t. See ya ’round, Southern Viking Dude.”
CHAPTER TWO
Lo
Annie pulls up in front of our apartment and Clementine closes the door behind us, as I head to the car. We’d been hounding Annie to introduce us to her boyfriend and his single friends for three months, but she’d been dragging her feet. A part of me wondered if she was doing it just to be selfish. I mean—hello, group of hot tattoo artists—I’d probably have issues sharing too.
We jump in and Annie drives literally two blocks away and pulls into a space in front of a tattoo shop that reads, “The Family Business.”
“Why didn’t we just walk?” Clem asks from the back seat as I climb out. “You could have left the car at ours?”
Annie screws up her nose. “My boyfriend’s friends are kind of annoying, at least this way I have an excuse to leave early.”
I frown. “So, we’re your decoy?”
“You mean you didn’t invite us here to share the tattooed hotties?”
Annie levels her with a look. “Aren’t you a lesbian?”
“I’m bi. I like dick too. I’m an equal genital opportunist.” Clem punctuates each word with a head nod.
I laugh because it’s true. When Clementine has a sleepover, I never know if I’ll be fighting a half-naked woman or man for the bathroom the following morning, sometimes it’s both. It’s always fun to guess though.
Annie crosses the footpath, and we follow as she opens the door. The shop has a speakeasy vibe, leather couches, navy walls and brass accents with the most gorgeous light fixtures hanging from the high ceilings. Instead of the usual plastic-coveredtattoo images lining the walls, expertly painted mannequin arms show off exquisite half sleeves.
“Holy shit,” Clem says.
I practically have to pick my jaw up off the floor. “This is ... this is gorgeous.”