I love that I do that to him. I’ve never been so intimate with a guy before, but I have a feeling that even if I had, I wouldn’t get as high on his arousal as I do on Logan’s. It makes me want him and not just physically. It makes me want to be the only girl who can do that to him. Forever.

“We can’t do this here,” he whispers into my neck.

“Then, let's go in the back.”

A rumble of deep laughter vibrates against my collarbone. “You’re a bad influence.”

I laugh back, but I don’t say that I wasn’t kidding. I want nothing more than to go in the back of this tattoo shop and see how far we can take this.

Without warning, he hooks a hand under my backside and lifts me until I’m sitting on the countertop. Then he steps forward so his broad hips are between my knees. I’m not in a skirt today, which is regrettable since I almost always have a dress on. That easy access sure would have come in handy today.

Instead of touching me, he presses his palms flat against the glass. “You know, you are nothing like what I expected.” He stares directly into my eyes, his crystal blues staring into my soul.

I curl my legs around his body and try to pull him closer as I smile. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you don’t fit the stereotype.”

“What stereotype?” I ask in a high-pitched voice.

“Oh, you know. Young, blonde, innocent…” His fingers drift slowly up my right leg, just past my knee, and stop before they reach the hem of my shorts. I squirm against the touch, wishing they would go further.

His hands leave my skin and go back to their spot on the glass counter.

“Well, you don’t fit your stereotype either.” My fingers find their way into his hair as I muss up the long, dark brown strands.

“How's that?” He leans his head back as I let my lips find his.

When I pull back after a short kiss with just a touch of tongue, I answer. “You act like such a big tough guy, but I know you’re just a big softie.”

He pulls away and stares at me incredulously, but in a way that makes me laugh.

“I can be a softie, but you know…” His hands find my hips as he jerks me forward, slamming his hips against my core, sending a thrill of heat up my spine. Then, into my ear he whispers, “I’m harder than you think.”

I break out into flirtatious giggles as he nips at my chin. A door in the back opens and we pull apart in a rush as his co-worker rounds the corner into the front of the shop. He stops as he sees us and raises an eyebrow in our direction. I hop down and smile at him.

“Well, hello there.”

“Hi,” I murmur with a shy wave.