Claiming Her (Skin Sins Tattoo Shop #6) Read Online Jailaa West

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Skin Sins Tattoo Shop Series by Jailaa West
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Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
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One look hooked him. The handsome bad boy biker president stopped in for a tattoo, but he’s leaving with her, the shy, curvy girl. One night changes everything.
Hannibal Arroyo has been out of the house and running his crew since he was seventeen. All he knows is the streets, how to survive them and how to rule them. He stopped in to visit his friends from Skin Sins MC, and get a new tattoo before heading back out on the road. The sound of her voice stunned him. One look at her face stalled his plans, because now he’s not going any-effin-where, without her.
Angel life couldn’t have been more sheltered. Homeschooled by her agoraphobic mom after her dad abandoned them meant she had very little experience with life and none with street life. The one time she defied her mother and took a chance on a man, he left her betrayed and broken-hearted. If she ever tries a relationship again, she’s picking the safest choice possible. Definitely not a man who travels from trouble to trouble, town to town, and probably from woman to woman. Taking a chance on him would be insanity, now if she can only convince her body…

FULL BOOK START HERE:

Chapter 1

The long lick of her words traced a wet trail up his spine, leaving him hungry for more. Who the hell was that? Hannibal couldn’t see a damn thing from the reclined position of his chair as Rebel worked on his tat.

“Hi, I’d like to speak to the owner of the shop.” Her voice was like honey. Sweet, too sweet for a tattoo shop run by bikers. Ex bikers. He almost shook his head, but he didn’t want to jar the needle as Rebel worked. They’d just started, but his feet tapped in his boots, eager to get up and see the owner of the voice.

“Rebel, who’s that?”

“Hmm?” When he worked, his focus was legendary. But how could he miss a voice like that? A combination of sexy and sweet. Sin and saint. If she wasn’t a jazz singer with her husky, sexy voice, she should be. Working her way from the stage of a dark bluesy joint in a red dress clinging to every dip and curve. “Who?”

“The girl. The one looking for Rector.” Rebel’s gun continued outlining the wings he’d requested to honor his fallen brother.

“Rebel,” he growled.

The needle slowed its rhythmic drilling. “Don’t know. Never seen her before.”

The voice came again, as if she knew he was about to give Rebel the smack down. Rebel was no lightweight in a fight. He’d seen the pretty boy torch more than one dumb ass in a fight. But he wasn’t a lightweight, either. They’d never clashed before, but he’d never tested him like this either. But the voice crossed the distance, soothing his wild beast with a gentle stroke, and he settled. Content as a kitty to just listen to her conversation.

“Are you the owner?” He closed his eyes. Taking deep breaths, wishing he could smell her scent across the distance.

“We’re all owners.” Rector answered her. Shut up and let the girl talk. “But I handle most of the shop’s business. Can I help you?”

“I wanted to ask about working in the shop. My name is Angel.” This had to be a joke. He’d fallen asleep, and the voice of an angel was teasing his dream. Yeah, he’d go with that. Because if it was a dream, his dream, he already knew where this was heading. His palm fisted air as if it were already curling around his dick. He hadn’t even seen her, and her voice alone was turning him on.

“I’m Rector.” Were they shaking hands? He didn’t even know if they were or not, but he wanted to rip Rector’s giant paws from his lady. He already felt possessive. He was never possessive—but damn there it was. He’d never wonder again how blind men fell in love.

“I wanted to ask about working in the shop.”

Was she a tattoo artist? His hand lifted to tell Rebel to stop. He’d let the pretty lady work on him instead.

“You, tatt?”

“No, I’m not a tattoo artist. I’m a masseuse.”

“We don’t offer that service.”

“And that’s what I’d like to speak to you about. I finished school a few months ago, and I’ve been mainly working out of my home. Having appointments with family friends in my apartment. I want to expand on that, and go full-time. I need a space where I could have a bit of walk-in business as well and I thought…”

“Rebel,” Hannibal hissed under his breath. “What does she look like?”

“Hmm, who?”

“The girl, numb-nut.”

“Oh,” he held his gun for a sec before resuming the outline. “She’s pretty enough. Long braids, decent shape, brown skin.”

“She black?”

The tattoo gun froze, and Rebel took a step back. “Yes, she looks African American. You got a problem with that? Do we got a problem?”


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