The Best Friend Bargain (Inked Love, #1)

by Crystal Kaswell

My cock is already standing at attention. It's a bigger traitor than my heart. It doesn't care that Skye is the most important person in my life. That she's my best friend. That there's no way in hell I'm fucking that up. It only cares about her lush tits, her thick thighs, her crimson lips.

She said sisters before misters. I'd never go after a guy you like, Skye. I wouldn't do that to you. Even if he's out of your league. Then she did. And she acted like it was for my own good. Sorry, Skye, but he kissed me. What was I going to do? Tell him I didn't want him to kiss me? Do you really want me to lie to him? It was magic. Fireworks. Like something out of a movie. He's so handsome. And tall. Too tall for you. And guys that hot—they never date the chubby girl. It wasn't meant to be. We'll find you someone.

Mack is getting married. Skye wants us to fake a relationship. It's stupid. Immature. Petty. But I get it.

I'm Forest Ballard, expert tattoo artist. The guy who protects my family. Who looks out for my friends.

Women see me as a tall brooding tattoo artist. A mysterious bad boy. The box they check before they move onto a real relationship.

I feel like me when I'm wearing a bold black dress, thick eyeliner, crimson lipstick.

I spend a lot of time at the studio. It's my main indulgence. Well, besides matcha lattes.

Mackenzie: Are you and Forest really together? That's great news, Skye. I'm so glad he got over his thing for thin women. Some people can't shake their type, you know? Bile rises in my throat. I swear to God, every time we talk she reminds me I'm not thin. It shouldn't bother me—I love my body, I do—but it does.

Matcha and macadamia milk. Is there anything better? For one beautiful moment, my world is green tea and sunshine.

How is she going to accuse him of being unable to move on? Or suggest I'm too fat for a boyfriend? Or say something snide about how guys love Asian chicks but only skinny ones? I can't even call her a bitch for pointing it out. Lots of guys think I'm too big. Plenty of people comment shit about how Asian women are supposed to be skinny on my blog. Or something about how my white parent must be fat. Or how mixed girls are ugly.

I don't care that he's seeking comfort for the hurt his ex caused. I don't care that he's thinking of her. I only care that he's touching me.

Holden isn't Forest. I wish my heart wanted someone other than Forest. It would make my life a lot easier. But it doesn't. It's Forest or bust.

He's all stiff. He's staring at his brother the way he looks at pictures of Diego and Mackenzie. He's jealous I'm kissing Holden.

"If you were my girl, would you climb onto my lap and demand to come on my face?" Holden asks. Forest's eyes fill with envy.

He's glaring like his brother is the scum of the Earth. Like he can't stand that Holden touched me. Like he'll kill anyone who touches me.

Forest's fingers curl into fists. He doesn't notice it. But Holden does. I do. My fake boyfriend is jealous of his brother's advances.

"I can't have what I want." "Who is this guy?" "It doesn't matter." "How can he not see how amazing you are?" "Forest, it doesn't matter." His brow knits. "It does."

I can see every line of the broken heart tattooed to his chest. The lilies spreading over his shoulder. The Latin quote running down his ribs. ex nihilo nihil fit Nothing comes from nothing.

Holden asks me. "If you don't like her, you won't mind me making a move." My stomach turns. No way is he touching Skye. She's mine. Only she's not mine.

There's a big, fat check sitting inside the black satin lingerie box. It's right there, wrapped in black tissue (they're really into black), bearing my name, a lingerie promo memo, and four figures.

Five thousand dollars. A few hours rolling around a bed with Forest and I make five thousand dollars.

This lingerie company wants me. There are a million fashion bloggers. Plenty of them are blonde size twos. Plenty of them fit perfectly into the "conventionally attractive" box. They want me. My soft stomach, my thick thighs, my large chest. Okay. I can do this. I can pose with Forest.

Lose myself in the rhythm of fixing a matcha. Sift. Measure. Whisk. Pour into warm almond milk. Stir. Add honey and vanilla extract. There. Perfection.

For a moment, my life is all green tea and honey.

I'm going to melt. I'm literally going to melt. Paramedics are going to find me in a puddle. Death by desire. What a way to go.

I am a photographer motivating a model. I don't care who he imagines. Only that he pictures someone he craves. "Think about one. Imagine there's a woman you want more than anything, staring at you, begging you to slide your jeans to your knees." "Yeah?" He makes eye contact, through the camera. "Imagine she's begging you to take out your cock. To touch yourself. To let her touch you." The playfulness in his expression fades into pure desire. He stares at the camera like he knows it wants him naked. His fingers brush the waistband of his jeans. Click, click.

"Why don't you sit? I'll sit on you. We'll get the front. And the back." He sits next to me. Shoots me that same wicked smile. "Yes, mistress." He's in character. That's it. That must be it.

Daisy stares at him with equal parts horror and interest. Oh my God, how can he say that? It's so dirty. And so hot. I've seen this happen before. Way too many times. Holden enjoys corrupting the innocent.

"Oh?" Holden raises a brow. "You think I can't make it?" She nods. "It's sad. I mean, it's flattering, that you want me so badly you come in thirty seconds. But I need a guy who lasts long enough—" "Skye, baby, are you daring me?" he asks. "What if I am?" she asks.

"You ever wonder why Skye spends all her time with you?" he asks. "We're friends." "Think about it, Forest." He shakes his head God, you're stupid.

"If you don't want to talk about sex, don't. But don't act like I'm some innocent flower." "Are you not?" Ariel asks, not at all aware of her bluntness. "You're even named after a flower." "You're named after a mermaid," Daisy says. "Can you breathe underwater?"

He looks down at me with those dark eyes. But they aren't full of love or need or affection. They're hazy. Really hazy. He's drunk. "Skye." He holds my body against his. "I need to make you come."

It doesn't matter that we kissed. That I still ache for him. That I want him more than I've ever wanted anyone. Not if he still wants her.

"I don't want to fuck Mack. Or any of the redheads who come into the shop. Or any of Holden's friends. Hell, I don't want to fuck lingerie models. Unless they're you." Her eyes go wide. "I don't want anyone else, Skye. I want you."

"I think about sucking you off all the time." His lips part with a groan. "I think about you groaning my name as you pull my hair. And the way you'll taste in my mouth. And—"

Skye smiles. "He's a family man, even if he doesn't realize it. And, well… he always looks out for me. Makes sure I have extra green onions. And matcha lattes. And the right shoes for the occasion." Her dad raises a brow. "He treats me well. I trust him. What else is there?" she asks. "Sweetie, I like Forest too, but love is more than green onions," he says. "Yeah, also matcha lattes." She shoots her dad a knowing look.

Her tongue dances with mine. It's music. Somehow, we both know the notes, the rhythm, the steps. We're in sync.

"Fuck." She turns her head to mine. Her eyes fix on mine for a moment. They promise love, affection, need. They promise everything.

This kiss is different. More affection than need. More tenderness than rawness. It still fills me everywhere.

"Does he have a name?" "No." He laughs. "He's personified, but he doesn't have a name?" "Yeah… he's the one in control, not me." "Oh?" I slide my arm around his neck. "You let your dick lead you around?" "No, but he tries."

"I'm not what models look like." He pulls back enough to give me a long, slow once-over. "Maybe that's fashion's loss." "Yeah, but it's still—" "I know." He squeezes my hand. "You're gorgeous, Skye. And your body is fucking amazing. You don't have to agree. But I'm not going to let you say anything less."

"Forest," she breathes. "Please." "Please what, princess?" "Fuck me." She rolls her hips, grinding her ass against me. "I want to come on your cock." My balls tighten. "Please." How can she be so demanding and polite at the same time? It defies reason.

I need her to be mine. Forever. I need to give her everything. Always.

Her eyes fill with disappointment. I don't want to hold her. I don't want to comfort her. I don't want to help her. She's hurting and I don't give a fuck. She doesn't have my heart anymore. "I don't care if you hurt me. I really don't." I stand. Pull three twenties from my wallet. Drop them on the bar. "But if you try to hurt Skye again, it will be the last thing you ever do."

"And I… I don't have everything figured out. But, fuck, Skye the thought of losing you—it hurt worse than anything ever has."

"I'm not the smartest guy. Or the richest. Or the most… the least fucked up. But I'll love you more than anyone will." His eyes meet mine. "I love you, Skye." "You love me?" "Yeah. It was obvious after you left. There was this hole in my gut and nothing could fill it. Nothing but making sure you're okay. But trying to make you happy."

"I know you're just starting your career. You're still focused on that. I don't want that to change, princess. I love watching you soar. It's my favorite thing in the world." "Yeah?" "Hell yeah." He runs his fingers over the side of my hand. "I want to see it every day. I want to wake up next to you. Fix your morning matcha. Listen to you groan over it. Kiss you goodbye on my way out the door. Watch you set up shoots." "Oh."