This is where Millie is in a sex club, trying to track down a suitably tattooed bad boy to rile her father…..
The visual of the man leaving the room hits me instantly, like a visceral call from every single tiny piece of me. I can only watch, my heart in my throat as the man exits, running a hand through his dark hair. He looks thoroughly worn out, like he’s had a good time in that private room, and it fills me with livid, hot jealousy.
Wearing dark grey jeans and black biker boots, a black T-shirt is balled up in his fist that showcases his heavily-inked torso. And it’s magnificent, leanly strong with dense, intriguing tattoos covering just about every inch of it. I’m too far away to distinguish many, but one dominates his back: an angel. The broad black wings are spread wide, the feathers edging over the curve of his biceps. He has full-length sleeves too, but because his head is slightly bowed, all I can see is a neat beard on a cut jawline. Chestnut-brown hair flops onto his forehead even when he stabs a hand through it again, his arm muscles rippling with the movement.
He is absolutely breathtaking.
My feet move before I have a chance to think it through, desperate to follow the gorgeous man who’s already disappearing towards the front door. He’s dragging the T-shirt back on his body, and even in the relative dark of the main room I can see his back muscles work, gleaming in some light from the TV screen. He has the physique of someone who works with their body on a daily basis. Who uses their strength to hone muscle and tighten abs. Who could show a woman a fucking good time.
I want to know what lucky bitch got to be with him, working up a delicious sweat. I want to torture myself with that image, wishing it were me. Because I don’t just want to proposition this man to help me out. To enrage my father and make him rethink his plans.
I want him. I want him so badly that my heart hurts.