Three Dirty Secrets (Blindfold Club #4) by Nikki Sloane Read Free Book Online Page B

forearm until my hand was set on top of his. “Thank you . . . for helping.”
    He held my gaze for an impossibly long moment. God, I’d been fucking lucky. If I had walked into a random tattoo shop, I wouldn’t have had any of this. Silas hadn’t just created the perfect art, he’d given me the best experience possible. Nudged me into the chair, coaxed the story from me.
    When he wiped the towel over the tender skin, it wasn’t as if he’d simply wiped the memory away, but he dulled the sting somehow. His art would always be there to remind me of a better memory than the one beneath.
    “No, thank you,” he said.
    “For what?”
    Silas’s skilled hand resumed passing ink into my skin. “For telling me. For wearing my art on your body.”
    More warmth rushed through me, spreading like lava. “You’re welcome.” The emotional swing left me not knowing up from down. I swallowed thickly, needing to move to a topic that was safe. “Tell me about you. Did you always want to be an artist?”
    For a long moment there was only the buzz of the machine. “Yeah.”
    That was all he was going to answer with, after what I’d shared? I opened my mouth to protest—
    “I did an apprenticeship at a tattoo place out in the suburbs and took construction jobs when the work was slow. I started doing freelance photography about five years ago, and that helped me save up to lease gallery space.”
    “And it’s going well for you? You said you don’t do tattoos anymore.”
    “Only for favors.” His tone was . . . coy.
    “What kind of favor does Joseph owe you?”
    A strange look developed in his eyes. The faintest hint of amusement? “Not Joseph. You’ll owe me the favor.”
    I drew in a breath to push the irritation back, but it was barely contained. I didn’t like owing people. “The kind of favor where I pay you in cash as soon as we’re done?”
    “Nope.”
    “I’m not fucking you.” Wait a minute, no need to send mixed signals. “I mean, not in exchange for tattoo work.”
    “But you’ll fuck me in exchange for something else?”
    His grin was impossibly wide and the irritation turned inward. Well, I painted myself into that corner, didn’t I? No point dancing around it. “Yeah. The exchange is you get to have sex with me and I get to have a hard dick.”
    Silas’s grin froze. It looked like his brain stopped working—everything behind his eyes was blank.
    I pushed forward, goading him. “Are you up for that transaction?”
    “Yeah, sure am.” He answered quickly, like he didn’t want to miss out on a limited time opportunity.
    “Great. Then finish your art so you can take me back to your place and we can . . . transact.”
    His tone was playful. “You don’t beat around the bush.”
    “When I see something I want, I take it.”
    “Yeah?” His needle dug in, reminding me where we were. Everything in my focus had gone blurry except for him. “I’m the same,” he said. “It’s why I wasn’t about to let you bail on getting in my chair.”
    Good God, he needed to hurry up. Fucking him in this tattoo shop, a curtain the only thing keeping us out of sight, sounded more appealing each passing second. My gaze followed the needle as it traveled over my uneven skin, and I silently urged him to finish.
    “So, what’s the favor?” I asked.
    “I’m hosting a show at my gallery next Tuesday for a new artist. Come with me.”
    I turned my head away and sighed. “Like a date?” It made this hard to be a one-time thing if I went out with him after the sex.
    “Could be.” His voice was strange, as if the thought had only just occurred to him. “After the showing, I want your help photographing the pieces.”
    “My help,” I said, dubious. “How would I do that?”
    “You’d display it. Model beside it.”
    My focus snapped back to him. “I’d do what?”
    “You’re a beautiful woman, and his artwork is predominantly green. Your red hair is the perfect complement to it—”
    I