Live Without Regret (A Touch of Fate) (2 page)

“I”—my voice cracks and I flush with embarrassment—“I like it. Plus, you’re the expert so I’ll leave it completely up to you.”

Connor swallows hard and my eyes follow the movement. “Good choice.” He turns away. “All right, have a seat here,” he says, gesturing toward the reclined chair, and I sit down. “Turn this way.” He angles my body to the left. “Is that comfortable?”

“Yep.”

“Good,” he mumbles, tugging my shirt up to expose my right side again.

The soft cotton slips down and he pushes it back up, only this time his hand brushes against my bra, grazing the outside of my breast. Another jolt passes through me, only this time it’s stronger. His eyes snap to mine, and I know—I
know
—that he felt
that
. As I bite down on my bottom lip, his sinful eyes flash with heat, and I watch him take a ragged breath before turning away.

“So…is, uh, is this your first tattoo?” he stammers, bringing his eyes back to mine.

“Nope. I have another one.”

“Good, so you know what to expect.” I nod, and then he smiles brightly before getting his equipment ready. “Okay,” he says. He rubs my skin with something cool and I presume he’s prepping it. “Let’s do this.”

The faint whir of the machine signals this is happening, and I squeeze my eyes shut as he gently pulls my skin taut. Okay, time to go to my happy place, which just so happens to feature none other than my sexy-as-hell tattoo artist.

My mind drifts into eroticland—as I like to call it—as I picture Connor sliding his hand up my bare thigh. He hooks a finger under the side of my panties, and with his wicked eyes on me he slips a finger in—

“I like the quote,” he says, pulling me from my fantasy.

“Do you know what it means?” I ask, opening my eyes and then quickly looking away. I’m a doctor, so you’d think the sight of blood wouldn’t bother me. And it doesn’t, as long as it isn’t
my
blood.

“I’ve put it on a few other people. Looked it up one time. It’s deep.”

“Yeah”—I take a big breath, holding it in for a few beats before letting it out—“well…” My words trail off because I don’t really know what else to say, and I sure as hell don’t want to talk about why this particular tattoo means so much to me.

Connor goes quiet, but I can feel his eyes burning a hole through my head. When I glance up, his eyes catch mine for a brief second before he looks back down. It was just enough time to tell me that he had my number.

“So it’s personal, huh?”

“What?” I scoff. “A girl can’t get a tattoo just to get a tattoo?”

“Of course she can, but you’re different. This is personal.” He cocks his head to the side, his hair falling in front of his face. I have to fist my hands together to keep from brushing it away so that I can see his face more clearly.

“Okay, fine, you’re right. It’s personal.”

“I’m always right,” he says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It would be prudent of you to remember that.” I tilt my head to the side just as the machine turns off and Connor looks up. He has one hand settled at the base of my waist, the other holding the tattoo gun off to the side. His eyes are smoldering, pinning me in my seat.

My tongue darts out, running a slow path along my lower lip, and I watch as his eyes follow along.
Oh yeah, this is happening.
Not one to beat around the bush, I decide to go for it. It’s obvious we’re attracted to each other, so there’s no reason for this not to happen.

“What are you doing when you get off work?”

Connor’s eyebrows push into his hairline. “Are you asking me out on a date?” he asks.

My heart clenches inside my chest and I take a deep breath, because as much as I’d like to say yes, that just isn’t who I am anymore. “Nope,” I state impassively. “I gave up dating.”

“You don’t date?” he asks incredulously.

“I fuck.”

Lips parted, he nods slowly several times as though he’s processing what I just said—and deciding what he’s going to do about it.

“Well, that’s too bad, because I gave up fucking.”

His cheeks flush, probably because he realized what he just admitted to, and I can’t help but laugh. “So you don’t have sex?”

Connor rolls his eyes, and even though I’m not a fan of the gesture, he makes it look sexy. My guess is that he makes most things look sexy. “Of course I have sex, I just stopped fucking. I gave up the meaningless one-night stands.” He shrugs. “I want more.”

“Ahhh.” I nod. “Well, good luck with that.” Connor doesn’t say another word. He puts the tattoo gun down and then holds up a mirror so I can check out my new ink. “It’s perfect,” I state, my eyes roaming over the beautiful script.

“I’m glad you like it.” Connor puts the mirror down and slathers some Vaseline on my tattoo. He follows it up with a bandage, all the while rattling off the aftercare instructions.

“Are we done?” I ask, secretly hoping he’ll tell me no. At least then I’d have a reason to stay.

“We’re done.” I push up from the chair. Connor nods his head toward the front desk and I follow him up there to pay. We seem to have fallen into a comfortable silence, and his presence alone is calming in a way I can’t explain. I wish like hell that he would’ve taken me up on my offer, because I have no doubt that it would’ve been fucking fantastic.

Without a word, Connor swipes my card, then I sign the receipt and shove my wallet back in my purse. When I look up, Connor is watching me intently. “Thank you,” I murmur.

His blue eyes are two swirling pools of liquid heat, and what I wouldn’t give to dive in and beg him to change his rules for just one night. “Don’t thank me,” he says, shaking his head. “It was my pleasure.”

We stand there for several more seconds, the air crackling around us as I search for something to say. “I’m Brittany, by the way,” I say, somewhat awkwardly.

Connor grins. “I know.” I furrow my brow and he points to the desk. “You made an appointment.”

“Right.” My phone beeps in my purse, and I decide that’s my cue to leave. “Well, I better go.”

“When will I see you again?” he hollers as I walk toward the door.

Spinning around, I give him my best come-hither look. “When I decide to get another tattoo.”

“Or?” he asks, a grin splitting his ruggedly handsome face.

“When you decide to fuck.”

His jaw nearly hits the floor.

Brittany, one. Connor, zero.

I think I’m going to like playing this game.

Three weeks later

S
hut up already!

Brad—twenty-five, full-time firefighter—hasn’t shut his fucking mouth since I sat down at the bar forty-five minutes ago. He needs to shut up.

You need to shut up.

Somehow, by the grace of God, I manage to keep the words from actually spilling from my mouth, which is becoming increasingly more difficult with each dirty martini. Speaking of dirty martinis…

Raising my hand, I signal the bartender for another drink. In a matter of minutes I’m back to sipping while
still
staring at Brad’s mouth as he tells me about…
shit
. What the hell was he telling me about?

It’s too late. The Mississippi native with a sexy Southern drawl has officially bored me to death. My shoulders deflate, and I take another drink. This is pointless. As much as I’d like to rip off Brad’s clothes to see if his body is as chiseled as it looks, I just can’t get past the fact that he’s unable to hold my interest in a simple conversation.

It’s probably my fault. I’m the one who asked him to tell me about himself, and now I have to figure out how in the hell to get him to stop.

“Brittany.” Brad snaps his fingers and I look up, catching his gaze. He smiles a thousand-watt smile, and for a fraction of a second I reconsider my decision to ditch him.

“I’m sorry,” I say sheepishly. “I, uhh…I must’ve zoned out. What was the question?”

“He asked if he could take you out on a date.” My head whips to the right at the familiar voice. Looks like the night just got a whole lot more interesting.

Connor’s blue eyes lock on mine. “I take it you haven’t told him yet.”

I have no idea what he’s up to, but I decide to take the bait. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” Raising my eyebrows, I wrap my lips around the rim of my glass and take a sip. Connor cocks a brow, his gorgeous eyes dancing with mischief.

“She doesn’t date.” He directs his words at Brad. “She fucks.”

My eyes leave Connor’s long enough to see Brad perk up in his seat.

“You don’t date?” Brad asks.

“I don’t,” I tell him.

“She fucks,” Connor clarifies.

Brad nods, his brown eyes now thick with lust. “She fucks,” he says slowly as though he’s trying to understand what Connor just said.

Connor grins. “But not you.”

“Why not me?”

Shifting in my seat, I narrow my gaze on Connor. “Yeah, why not him?”

“Do you want to fuck him?” he fires back, tossing a thumb toward Brad.

“Now wait a minute,” Brad says as he slides off his chair. In one stealthy and incredibly sexy move, Connor pushes his way between Brad and me, effectively blocking out our third wheel. His hands land on either side of my chair and he bends down until we’re eye to eye. As his breath fans my face, I wonder if he tastes as good as he smells.

“Have a drink with me?” he asks.

Holding up my martini glass, I give a little wave. “I am having a drink.”

Connor pushes against my legs and I automatically part them, allowing him to step in between. Heaven help me, he feels good settled between my thighs. I just wish we could resume this position later sans clothes. “Have a drink with me over there,” he says, nodding toward a booth.

“Like a date?”

He shakes his head, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Well, since you don’t date, I know better than to ask you out on one. It’s just a drink. Two, if I’m lucky.”

“Excuse me.” Brad steps around Connor, who throws up a hand.

“We’re not done,” Connor says dismissively.

Brad’s eyes widen and flick to mine. I need to put the poor boy out of his misery. As much as I’d love to spend a few nights with him warming my bed, it’s probably a lost cause. He’s too young, and I’m not ready to be classified as a cougar. Not yet anyway.

Setting my drink on the bar, I push up from my seat. Connor’s face falls when he’s forced to move back. I smooth my hands down the front of my blouse and step up to Brad. This is the part I hate.

Rejection. Been there. Done that. I’ve got a broken heart to prove it.

And that’s exactly why I need to do this now. “Thank you for the drink,” I say, knowing that honesty is always the best policy. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Connor grin. “I think you’re a great guy, but this”—I wave a hand between the two of us—“isn’t going to happen.”

I don’t give Brad a chance to reply, because giving him that chance also gives him hope … and there is no hope. Spinning around, I come face-to-face with Connor. “I’m ready for that drink,” I say. His grin grows into a breathtaking smile, causing my heart to stutter inside my chest. “Or two.”

Connor grabs my hand, and I snag my drink from the bar. He leads us toward a booth tucked in a corner where we slide in opposite each other. I glance toward the bar, thankful when I see a busty blonde sidle up next to Brad. I knew it wouldn’t take him long.

“Hi.” Connor’s smooth voice rolls over me, wrapping me up like a warm blanket.

Turning my attention to Connor, I smile. “Hi.”

“I’m starting to think you’re stalking me.” He smirks before quickly adding, “Which, for the record, I’m totally cool with.”

“Funny, because I was just thinking the exact same thing.”

“That I’m stalking you or that you’d be totally cool with me stalking you?” Connor’s playful words, coupled with my alcohol-infused state, cause me to let down my guard.

“Both.” I lean forward, placing my elbows on the table, and Connor mimics my position. His woodsy scent floats through the air and I take a deep breath, trying to memorize the smell. “Have you changed your mind?” I ask.

“Funny, I was just thinking the exact same thing,” he says, tossing my words back at me.

Lifting my glass, I take a sip. It’s the only way to keep myself from smiling like a fucking idiot, which is exactly what I want to do. “So”—I set my glass down—“do you come here often?”