Surrender of a Tattooist: Obsessive Dark Romance Alpha Bad Boy (Tattooist Series Book 2)

Surrender of a Tattooist

Tattooist Series #2

By Lexy Timms

Copyright 2016 Lexy Timms



All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners


All rights reserved.

Copyright 2016 by Lexy Timms


Tattooist Series


Book Trailer:


Confession of a Tattooist

Book 1





Surrender of a Tattooist

Book 2





Heart of a Tattooist

Book 3

Coming March 2016


Hopes & Dreams of a Tattooist


Coming April 2016




The last thing Pixie wants is another broken heart. She’s been through a lot, and isn’t sure she wants to start something with handsome Cliff, one of the best artists in the Flying High Tattoo Shop run by Hawk, who’s dating her best friend Joy.

However, Cliff is hard to resist. He’s a smartass hottie with a rock-hard body and few surprising tricks up his sleeve. Not to mention he has a romantic streak matched only by a determined streak, and he’s resolute on having Pixie.

Except Pixie isn’t the only one with terrible heartache in her past. Cliff’s been burned before and it doesn’t take long for those burn scars to flare up.

Can the two of them find a way to make peace with their pasts in order to have a future together?




Cliff saw Pixie coming through the door of Flying High Tattoos, and his usually sardonic grin got a little less bitter. Today her hair was a stunning bright purple, and her slight figure was clad in a baggy punk rock tee the sleeves of which had been jaggedly cut off, a vintage petticoat, and a pair of unlaced knee-high combat boots.

He was torn between laughter and arousal at the sight of her. That was something he was getting used to, and he also knew that he was going to have to bite the bullet and ask her out.


She was sure to shoot him down.


Oh well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

He walked around the counter and up to her, putting on his best sexy smile. “Hey, Pix.”

“Only my friends get to call me Pix.”

He cocked an eyebrow and leaned a hip against a display case filled with piercing rings and needles. “We aren’t friends?”

Her lips pursed. Damn, she was cute, even when she was blasting him with rejection. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Why aren’t you tattooing someone?” Her voice held a waspish note.

“It’s a slow day. You should let me tat you up.”

“No, thanks.”

Wow. He said, “I’ve tatted you before.” Shit, it sounded like he was asking for sex, and yet he kept trying.

“Oh. I had that covered up.”

Hawk Reynolds, his boss and the owner of the ink shop, came out of his workroom, grinned, and leaned against the door to watch.

Cliff shot him an imploring look, but Hawk just lifted a shoulder and then dropped it. Cliff glared at him before turning his attention back to the tiny little sex-bomb beside him. “I’m not a monster, you know.”

She looked him right in the eye. She had to tip her head back to do it. She was petite, and barely came to his shoulder. “I’m sure you aren’t. But you also are not willing to take no for an answer. I’ve said no to going out with you at least six times…”

“Eight. Nine if you count just now, although I’m not since I didn’t get to actually ask you yet…”

“Oh my goodness.” She shook her head. “What is wrong with you?”

He furrowed his brow. “No idea. I bathe regularly. I have a job. I’m a fairly good guy. I respect your vegetarian lifestyle.”

She put a hand up, silencing him. “No, I mean what’s wrong with you that you can’t take a hint and stop asking me out?”

“Maybe it’s because you keep coming in here looking so cute and…”

“That’s pretty misogynistic.”

He grabbed his hair and tugged it out of sheer frustration. “You didn’t let me finish.”

“Didn’t have to,” she said crisply. “You know, I don’t think I need anything today.” She flounced out, her skirt swirling all around her slim legs.

Hawk spoke, the laughter clear in his voice, “Dude, I don’t think you won her over today.”

“You think? You could have helped me out here a bit, you know.” Cliff scowled. He was mad at himself, not Hawk.

Hawk snorted. “I already told you. Pix isn’t interested in dating right now. Her ex might not have been Satan, but he’s definitely one of his offspring. He was also a tattoo artist, and, unfortunately for you, a cheating asshole to boot.”

“I’m not a cheating asshole.”

Hawk shrugged. “Maybe not, but you’re a good-looking guy and you don’t exactly shove the women away when they run up on you. You think she doesn’t notice the times you get a little close to a woman when they’re in here looking for ink?”

Irritation flooded through him. Pixie was beautiful, and crazy in a brilliantly creative way that tugged at his insides, but he would be damned if he could figure out how to win her over if she was basing her constant refusal on the fact that women found him attractive. “What? You don’t play the game either? You have a woman and I’ve seen the way women look at you with those fuck-me eyes. You might not think you reply directly, but a half smile or compliment doesn’t hurt.”

Hawk chuckled. “Yeah, but the women don’t see it that way. They believe we only know how to think with our dicks.”

“Ahh, fuck it,” he said, and stomped back behind the counter to sort through the supplies that had just come in.

Hawk said, “Well, then, there’s your trouble.”

Cliff lifted his head. “Say what?”

“You don’t really want her if you aren’t willing to work for her. I don’t mean you should go balls out and all that if she keeps saying no, but I am saying if you tried to ask her out like she’s a woman you’re interested in for something besides sex, she might say yes.”

Cliff wanted to argue but his gut told him to keep his mouth shut.

Hawk continued, “Instead, you talk to her like she’s just another woman in here you’re flirting with, and she knows it because she’s seen it with her own eyes, and then you get mad when she says no.” He shook his head. “What pisses me off is that you’re just giving up on a woman who really is amazing.”

“I know she’s awesome. If I didn’t think she was I wouldn’t ask her out.”

Hawk said, “Well I don’t know why you’re telling
that. You aren’t trying to take
out.” He eyed Cliff carefully and an impish grin crossed his face, “Are you?”

“Dude. Really? You’re just adding insult to injury here. And you aren’t even that hot.”

Hawk put a hand to his chest and then chuckled. “You do know she’s probably sitting over at the Chinese place drowning her sorrows in green tea and spring rolls, right?”

Cliff looked toward the door. “You think so?”

“I’d bet on it.” Hawk sighed. “It’s a really slow day. Take a break.”

Cliff hesitated. He really wanted to go to see Pixie. He also wanted to seriously say to hell with it and her. She was the most confounding woman he had ever met. Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Damn it! “I’m not going for her. I’m going for the steamed dumplings. You want some lunch?”

Hawk hid his mouth behind his hand, and Cliff was willing to bet the guy was laughing behind it. “Nah, I already had something, but thanks.” Hawk vanished back inside the room he worked in.

Cliff stood, divided by his conflicting emotions. He raked a hand through his hair and headed out.

The shop sat on a busy corner in the heart of one of the city’s biggest tourist meccas, and he had to pass through throngs of eager gawkers. He finally elbowed his way through a bunch of sweaty teens intent on trying to get into a little peepshow place that, sadly for them, had been closed for years. The current owner of a souvenir shop had just left the old peepshow sign up in a display of Hollywood élan.

The little Chinese restaurant sat kitty-corner from the souvenir shop and he paused for a moment, peering in the windows to see if she was really in there, or if Hawk had just sent him out for the hell of it.

She was. She sat at a table, her head bowed over a menu and her purple hair swinging around her gorgeous face. He considered her for a moment. Pixie was beautiful. Her face featured cheekbones many an actress would kill for, a perfect Cupid’s bow mouth, and eyes that were both direct and challenging.

She was beautiful, and she was stubborn as hell. And irritating, too. Not to mention she was always in trouble. She had gotten arrested not too long ago for releasing circus animals or something insane like that. Plus, she constantly rebuffed him.

Maybe it would be better to go back to the shop and say to hell with it and her.

His stomach grumbled loudly.

His lips pressed in a tight line and he strode into the place, heading toward a table near hers. She looked up, her face unreadable. He said, “Fancy meeting you here.”

A small pot of tea sat near her elbow. She poured a cup, deliberately, then said, “Stalking is against the law, you know.”

“The only thing I’m stalking is a pork dumpling.”

She snarled at him. “Oh, well, how nice for you… and too bad for the piggy that died for your dumplings.”

He sat down. He didn’t ask, he just sat. “Look, I want to go out with you. I want to go out with you badly enough that I keep trying, even though you aren’t very nice about saying no.” He shook his head. Was he going to have to beg? “Maybe I come off like an asshole. I probably do. Maybe I came off like a misogynist, but I’m not. I’m really a good guy, I swear. I could even provide you with three references and a DNA sample if necessary, but will you please just go out with me? One time?”

Her lips flattened and he waited for her snarly, heated reply. Instead she said, “Well, you’re already here. Might as well call it a lunch date.”

He grinned. “I’ll take it.”

She waved at the server and when the woman approached she asked for spring rolls and the tofu vegetable dish. Cliff asked for the same, and a second pot of green tea.

Pixie said, “You don’t have to eat what I do.”

He shrugged. “My folks own Bare Earth. I grew up vegan. Eating meat is a way of rebelling, I suppose.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

“Yeah; don’t look at me like that, all judge-y and stuff.”

She laughed. Her laugh was melodic and full. “I’m not judging you. I did the reverse. I grew up eating bacon for breakfast, ham for lunch, and steak or pork chops at dinner.”

“And you just criticized me for wanting dumplings?”

She shifted in her chair. The bodice of her dress shifted too, and for a moment he was treated to the sight of the upper swell of her small and firm breasts. “Look Cliff, you’re a great tattoo guy. I’ve seen your work and it’s phenomenal, and maybe you’re a good guy, period, but I just don’t want to get into anything right now.”

“I didn’t ask you to marry me, you know.” He tapped a finger on the table and said, “I just want to spend some time with you. That’s all. I’m not asking you to bend over backwards to see me if you have other things to do. I’m not asking you to throw everything aside to be my girl. I’m just asking you to go out with me.”

Her eyes dropped. “Maybe I’m just not a great person to date. You might have to come up with bail money if you really want to see me.”

He roared laughter. “I’ve heard you have a bit of trouble sticking to the right side of the law.”

“Yeah,” her grin was genuine, “I get a little carried away sometimes.”

“I can see that.”

Pixie sipped her tea and ran a hand through her hair. “I have to be honest with you, Cliff. I’m not the easiest person to know. I’m…I had a really bad breakup and I’m not all the way over it either. I keep thinking I am and that dating is what I want, but then something happens and…I can get a little weird and insecure. I know myself enough to know that. It isn’t a good thing to be or do, and I’m working on it.” She smiled nervously. “I’m telling you because I’ve seen you in the shop and I know you’re a flirt and all.”

Cliff regarded her. “Duly noted. I’ll do my best to tone down the flirting but honestly, Pixie, flirting is all it ever is. I used to do more, back when I was still glorying in the whole ‘I’m a badass tattoo artist’ thing. Now it’s kinda just part of the job.” He shrugged, not believing that he was actually telling her this. “It’s easy to do that. I mean really easy. But I’m not really interested in doing what’s easiest these days. I mean that literally and figuratively, just so you know.”

Their food came and their conversation shifted. Pixie asked, “So how did you get into tattoos?”

He swallowed a bite of tofu and said, “My old man loves ink. He also rode with a few bike clubs when I was a kid. So I was around a lot of inked-up folks and I always wanted my own ink. I also love to draw, and when I got my first tat I realized I could probably draw my own stuff and get a better tat.” His ran his tongue over his upper lip and noticed her eyes drop to follow it. “Then I figured I could actually do a better tat than the ones I had so…so I started learning. I apprenticed and took art classes, the whole nine yards, and here I am. How about you?”

Pixie shook her head. “I grew up in a very conservative household. Tattoos were the work of the devil. So was rock music. You know, the works. Only I couldn’t see how something that made people so beautiful could be wrong. I got my first tat when I was sixteen. I snuck into this house where a guy was giving out guitar-string tats and got one. Cost me thirty bucks. It cost my parents hundreds because, of course, I got a really shitty infection too.”

Cliff winced. “Ouch.”

Pixie laughed. “My folks were sure that was the last tat I’d ever get but all it did was make me want a good one to cover up that one. Then I wanted one next to that one to make a bigger picture, and so on.”

Cliff nodded. “It’s an addiction.”

Pixie chortled. “It is, right? My parents are sure I’m on drugs or something too. I once told them I can’t afford drugs; tats are too expensive for me to afford the bad stuff.”

Cliff snorted and replied, “This is true. I could’ve probably bought a Porsche with the money I spent on tats, a fact my old man likes to point out all the time. Usually when I’m adding ink to his skin.”

Pixie’s eyebrows shot up. “You tat your dad?”

“One of us might as well save some money.”

Pixie nodded. Her purple hair swung forward and back. He was entranced by her hair, and by her. “I guess that makes good economic sense. Leaves them a little something for your inheritance.”

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