Walking into Wolfram and Hart, Lindsey could still feel the cool touch of the vampire’s fingers on him. Tracing over the tatts that had cost Lindsey more than he had been willing to give and there was one less mystical tattoo artist in the world.
He hadn’t meant to fuck the vampire. It wasn’t part of the plan. But they were both drunk and bored and those eyes … that face … those lips were made to be kissed. Over and over and wasn’t fucking Spike just another way of getting back at Angel? Just another way of one-upping him?