Old Ink (Get Ink'd #3) - Ali Lyda Page 0,18
them, writing pointers on the back of each student’s page for the next time. After packing up and signing out of the center, I decided to head to the shop. I didn’t have anything else on my schedule for the day, but it was where I felt the most at home.
And as soon as I’d walked through the door, I heard Channing’s too-cheerful voice saying, “Welcome to Get Ink’d, where your creativity meets our ingenuity.”
He even used finger quotes, the little smartass. Oh, hell, the beautiful smartass. Channing was in one of our shop’s shirts, and it looked old enough that it must have been one of the first ones we’d gifted him all those years ago. Now the cotton had worn thin, and his added muscle filled it out nicely.
The black fabric was a stark contrast to his pale skin, and his blue eyes popped. I stifled a groan. Coming to the shop was supposed to be a retreat. Channing’s presence made it a treat… and a trial.
“What was that?” I asked, trying not to stare.
“Our new slogan. It’ll make customers feel at ease—and don’t try to lie, I know you love it.”
I laughed despite the crackling in my veins that Channing’s proximity seemed to cause. “You’re right, I do. Though maybe without the finger quotes.”
I crossed to the desk, determined not to let my fumbling pulse and roaring blood control me. I was the boss. There was absolutely no reason to be nervous in my own damn shop.
“How’re you settling in?”
Channing beamed. “It feels like coming home, Boss.”
Hadn’t I just been thinking that? That this place was more a home to me than where I lived? My crew—each and every one of them—were my family. And having Channing here now felt like a hole I’d been denying even existed had been filled. He’d truly been a part of the crew before he left, and his absence had created a small rift in the shop, as if something were missing.
Don’t forget why he left. I ran my tongue along the inside of my teeth, as if testing for weaknesses. As if I didn’t know my weakness was standing right in front of me, all casual stance and goofy grin and breathtaking beauty. I’d pushed him away for a reason, and I’d been right to do it. If I’d given in to the inkling of attraction I’d felt for him when he was just eighteen, he never would have left and grown into the man in front of me. And that would have been a true crime.
He still had so much more life to figure out for himself.
I cleared my throat, realizing I’d been standing there a fraction too long. “Keep up the good work,” I said, and it sounded comically hollow in my ears. Channing’s eyebrow raised a hair and yep, it was time to go.
“I’ll be in my office,” I added, though I wasn’t sure why.
Channing gave me a knowing smirk. “You got it, sir.”
That “sir” doused my desire with propane; it was almost like he knew what the word did to me coming from his mouth. Heat exploded in my belly, liquid fire moving straight to my cock. I walked away before anyone could see how much tighter the front of my pants had grown so quickly.
As soon as I was in my office, I shut the door and sagged against it, palming my erection. It’d been a long time since my body had felt this wired, but now that it had gotten a taste, it was as if the dam had been broken. Now the ache in my balls was almost as painful as the ache in my heart. Channing always made me feel as if I were unraveling each time I looked at him.
He’s only here for the summer. He’s only here for the summer. He’s only—
I reached down and squeezed myself, trying to remind my hard cock that I did actually have work to do. I was not about to jerk myself off in my office to fantasies about my new (and temporary) receptionist. Because that was a road I couldn’t afford to travel down.
Sitting at my desk, I pulled up my email. Sifting through the hundreds of emails I received each day would be a good way to quell my lust. Nothing was less sexy than wading through useless invitations, proposals, spam, fan mail, and business letters.
As I scrolled through dozens of spam emails, client intakes that I’d forward to the front desk,