Tagged Steel (Men of Steel #6) - MJ Fields Page 0,4
Steel.”
“Bella, he’s tracking your cell phone because he worries about you.” She sighed. “As a parent, we don’t want our children to struggle like we did. His overprotective ways are out of love.”
“But …” I began.
She held up her hand, stopping me. “However”—she winked—“as long as someone knows you’re okay, I see no reason that you can’t let your hair down every once and awhile.”
“So …”—I tried to hold back my victory smile—“I can just leave my phone in the dorms when I decide to … let my hair down?”
“Absolutely not.” She laughed. “That’s folle.”
Momma Joe gave me a new escape system, via a new phone and a system where I checked in with her.
In that very short amount of time, between let your hair down and Momma Joe slapping me with Italian—folle meaning insane—I went to a hundred parties, walked in the dark … alone, went out past eleven at night … on a school night, had a boyfriend who wasn’t a complete douche, had sex without the threat of seeing my father around every corner, in every shadow, and no, I didn’t feel threatened by my dad in the least, but everyone else in a ten-block radius sure as hell did. He made damn sure of it.
Part Two
Present Day
Four
Tag Time
Tags
Standing inside Body Art, I see four girls outside of my buddy Sisco’s studio.
He smirks. “They’re fucked up.”
“The little blonde isn’t. She looks terrified.”
He chuckles. “She looks like that cartoon character.”
I nod. “Alice from Alice in Wonderland.”
“Wonderland would pass out quicker than the little badass.”
“Purple hair, dark skin?” I ask then take a sip of my coffee. “I think you’re wrong.”
“If I’m wrong, you get dibs on which one you ink. And the cash, too. I’m right, you get Wonderland and I get the cash.”
I reach out to shake his hand. “You’re on.”
Two seconds later, purple hair throws up and we laugh.
When the other one, the one with the long, thick, brown hair and perfect curves, turns and I see her face, my heart skips a beat, maybe two. She’s fucking gorgeous.
Living art.
Sparkling blue eyes, lightly tanned skin.
Tag, I think. “She’s it.”
He chuckles as he looks at the one I’m pointing at. “Beverly?”
“Fuck that.” I laugh.
“You have a type, Tags—Beverly Hills.”
“I don’t have a type. I’m perpetually single. And Sisco, those eyes, they’re not Beverly Hills; they’re too deep for that.”
Only half of it’s a lie. I do go for women who are socioeconomically out of my league. And not because I think I want to be like them. I don’t. Quite the opposite. I want them to realize money isn’t shit. That they just want all the crap that I find nonessential. Shit I’ll never have. I just happen to have a thing for fucking shit up for the man she’s under while still thinking about me. Men who need arm candy and the newest Porsche in their garage, next to last year’s discarded model.
She’s not Beverly Hills. She’s fucking perfect.
I turn to walk behind the frosted glass to prep as Sisco yells back, “They’re getting in a cab. Guess we both lose.”
For some reason, I don’t stop the setup.
A few minutes later I hear Sisco, “We’re closing up.”
“But I—” Sexy voice.
“We open tomorrow at eleven,” he cuts her off.
“Sisco, I can take this one.”
“You got cash?” he asks her.
“I do.” She sounds excited.
Virgin, I think.
“She’s all yours,” he calls back to me.
“Perfect.” I begin walking out front.
“Lock up and come meet me at the gym when you’re done.”
“Will do.”
When I see her, she looks at me like I did her. Fortunate for me, I get to see it.
“You ready?”
She doesn’t reply.
“How deep you want it?”
Her jaw drops, and I eat it up. Double inuendo, and she got it.
I step to her and lift her chin to close her gaping mouth. Her skin feels like silk.
“I like the path your thoughts are traveling on, sweets, but I’m asking about the work you’re here to get. You want just the tip of my creativity or do you want me to go all-in?” I step back just a fraction, and her jaw drops again. This time, I’m close enough to help her out again, and luckily for me, she allows it … again. Then I step back farther, because the way her blue pools are shimmering, and her face flushes, if I don’t, shit’s going down right here on the floor.
“I have my artwork.” She looks down at a large leather bag and begins pulling out what I can guess