Chapter 31
Juliette
It was weird having so much freedom. Getting to sleep in, getting to paint, not having to worry about a vitamin regimen, not having to cook stupidly healthy meals every damn day.
At the same time, that freedom had a limit. I couldn’t really venture outside and just be a real person, and me and Bridger certainly couldn’t sit inside a restaurant eating dinner like some normal couple on some normal date.
No, not yet. Soon, though, and I couldn’t wait for that, because tomorrow, I had to deal with boring Mrs. Cavendish nonsense: handing my old home’s keys over. I was itching to say goodbye to the place.
Until then, we could be a little sneaky. Which was why Bridger’s fingers were tangled with mine as he brought me downstairs and into the tattoo parlor after it had shut. It felt a tiny bit like old times; me and him sneaking out when it got dark, away from the eyes of everyone else.
The parlor was weirdly comforting at night.
I stood in front of one of the walls, taking in all that art before me.
It surrounded me, and I loved that: that finally, art was everywhere I looked instead of bright colors and curved lines being hidden from me.
Bridger had brought so much back into my life, but one thing I would always be grateful for was him making sure I got to feel and see and be around color again.
There was so much to take in on the walls. Tigers, angels, birds, men with knives pierced through their heads. All intense and vivid and gorgeous.
“Interesting,” I said, taking in the framed piece in front of me. It was a close up of a man’s face, eyes bulging as blood dripped down his cheeks. “Poor guy…”
Bridger laughed behind me, his head resting on my shoulder. Softly and slowly, he pressed a kiss to my neck. “Chase drew that one. He drew most of these.”
“He’s so talented.”
“And he won’t let you forget it.”
“I’m sure he could have a very successful career as an artist without having to… you know.”
“He loves… you know.” Bridger wrapped his arms around my waist, giving my neck yet another kiss. “He’d give up this before giving up that.”
My head shook a tiny bit. “You’re both insane.”
He pressed one more kiss to the back of my head. “Just a tiny bit.”
“So, what is it that you do down here exactly if Chase handles the creative stuff?”
“Boring behind the scenes business shit. Just emails and phone calls and ordering things the artists need.”
“Have you ever tried to tattoo someone?” I whispered, turning around and pressing my hands to his chest.
Lips twitching, he shot me a grin. “Me? I have no artistic talent. Not like you. You know that.”
Fingers plucking at the collar of his T-shirt, I chewed at my bottom lip as the thought hit me. For a second, I let myself get lost in that fantasy: Bridger with that needle in hand, my skin exposed, him marking me permanently and completely with a sign from him and him alone.
It made me cling to his shirt a little tighter. I knew we couldn’t. Not with the baby growing in my belly, but the thought was suddenly so intriguing that I couldn’t quite let it go.
“You aren’t that bad,” I said, head tilting as I stared up at him. “You make the best damn stick figures that I’ve ever seen…”
Chuckling, Bridger reached a hand up, brushing some hair out of my eyes. “Can’t compete with you, though.”
“Do you do those… what do they call them?” My foot tapped against the floor. “The temporary ones? Semi-permanent?”
“Uh, yeah, sometimes. You know, for the babies.”
“Shh,” I said, pressing my face into his neck with a giggle. “Not all of us are good with needles like you.”
“Why do you wanna know about that?”
Staring up at him, my fingers gently tapped against his chest. He was so broad. So strong. I had never felt so protected and safe in my life, and I was pretty sure that was something I’d never get over.
“Well…” I said, eyes moving to the walls. To all that color. “Maybe I could get one? Maybe later I can do the real thing and you can do that one too. But until then… You wanna mark me?”
A hiss left his mouth when I said that, his grip on my waist tightening. “Fuck, don’t say it like that.”
I giggled. “Why not?”
“Because marking you?” he said, his lips ghosting along my neck, his breath making my skin tingle. “I want that. I want that real fuckin’ bad. I want something on you that says you’re all mine. Mine, mine, mine…”
A soft whine fell from my lips, our bodies all pressed up together and my fingers clutching at his shirt. He moved so that his forehead rested against mine, those long fingers of his lowering to the hem of my shirt where he slid it up, exposing my skin.
“Just yours,” I whispered.
“Yeah, just mine,” he muttered. “Just like I’m all yours.”
His thumbs brushed along me there, giving me soft, easy strokes like I was too breakable, too fragile. It was a stark contrast to Gordon’s horrid touch. To his roughness and anger. Bridger touched me like he was scared to hurt me.
“I’ll mark you,” he said, voice gruff. “Yeah, baby, I’ll mark you. Semi-permanently… And if one day you really want it? Then I’ll mark you up forever. Let that ink sit there on your skin. Let everyone who looks at you know exactly who you belong to.”
Reaching up, he cupped my face, letting his thumb run along my bottom lip. He leaned in and kissed me softly and slowly, his tongue meeting mine and my heart beating oh so wildly there in my chest.
When he pulled away from me, his hand grasped mine, and he led me to the back of the parlor.
To a room I had never been in before, all closed off from those big windows out the front.
The walls were a soft, inviting gray, covered in a few framed tattoo designs.
Castles and skies and birds. The space was small and oddly calming for a place where one was about to get hit with a bunch of painful needles.
Big hands landed on my hips and I squealed a little as Bridger picked me up and set me down on the black leather bench. My legs spread and Bridger stood in between them, my hands instantly looping around his shoulders.
“So, what selection of tattoos do you have?” I asked. “I want something special.”
“Something special, huh?” he murmured, lips brushing against mine.
“Mhm. By the way, are you charging me for this?”
“You still got that dollar on you?”
Giggling, I gave him an eager nod. “I do. I kept it safe. Cheapest tattoo ever.”
“You want something small, right?”
With a hum, I thought about it for a second, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. “Yeah, I guess so. Small sounds good. You promise this won’t hurt, right? Not like a real one?”
“I’ll try to go easy on you, princess.” Thumbs tucked under the hem of my shirt, he rolled the material up, brushing at the skin there. “How about you get something on your hip? Something small, right here. Just a tiny little one…”
“Hip sounds good.”
“You’re gonna have to take your jeans off.” A grin spread across his face. “But I can help with that.”
I let him tug down my jeans and toss them to the other side of the bench, the air cold on my skin.
“We keep the temporary ones over there,” he said, nodding to the desk on the other side of the room. “We got some classic ones. Flowers and birds and stuff. But… I don’t think I wanna put that on you.”
“What do you suggest then?” My hands rested against his chest, and I could feel his heartbeat right there, thumping all solid and steady. Part of me wanted to keep my hands there forever. “Since you’re the expert and everything…”
His eyes stayed locked to mine, that deep ocean blue looking right back at me, and I still couldn’t quite believe that he was here and real and in front of me. I never thought I’d get to stare into his eyes again. That I would want to stare into them.
“I’ll find you something,” he said, pressing his lips to mine for a soft, quick kiss. “Sit tight.”
Legs swinging, I pressed my palms to the bench, waiting for Bridger who was over at that desk, flipping through a stack of what looked like little white sheets.
“So, how does this work?” I asked. “Water?”
“Nah, nothing like that. These last a lot longer. It depends on where you place it, but some of these won’t rub off for a good ten days. Not like the stuff you used when you were a kid.”
“Well, I never got to use them. I saw all the commercials, though,” I said, huffing out a laugh. “You remember who brought me into the world, right?”
Looking over his shoulder at me, Bridger raised his brows. “Mm, forgot I was dealing with a princess. We’ve got tiaras. You want one of those?”
“I can’t imagine anything worse than a tiara being on my skin. Even if it’s temporary…”
“You’re right, baby. You’re too classy for that. Let me see…” Tongue clicking, he kept flicking through those sheets until he came to a halt. “Yeah, I got it. Close your eyes for me.”
I blinked at him. “Close my eyes?”
“I want this to be a surprise.”
Eyes fluttering shut, I followed his instructions, my fingers tapping against the smooth leather of the seat.
Warm hands landed on my bare knees and I felt a smile spread over my face at Bridger’s touch.
Those hands moved up higher and higher, not stopping until they found my hips, and then Bridger was gently hoisting me up and on to my feet.
“Stand up for me, sweetheart,” he said, his lips right by my ear and his voice intoxicatingly gravelly. “That’ll make this a bit easier. Keep those pretty eyes closed, okay?”
Blushing, I nodded, feeling his lips brush against mine before his hands gripped my waist. They moved lower and lower, right to the lacy waistband of my panties.
“Left hip or right hip?” he asked.
“I’m not picky.”
“Gonna go with the right hip,” Bridger said, giving my panties a gentle tug down. “I like it a little better than the left one…”