Chapter 4
FOUR
MISHA
“No.” The word fell from my lips as I shook my head and started backing toward the door.
The arrogant alpha from Valentine’s Day was standing behind a little wall, looking like he’d been waiting for someone.
When he saw me, his smile fell, and everything in me said I needed to run. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
My hand was on the doorknob by the time he hustled around the wall to where I was standing. “Misha, wait. Please.”
I still wanted to run, but the please, added almost like an afterthought, made me pause. Crossing my arms, I turned to glare at him. “What?”
“I owe you an apology. I’m sorry I was a dick at the bakery on Valentine’s Day.
I promise I’m not normally like that. It was a shitty day, and while that’s not an excuse for behaving like an asshole, it is what it is.
I’m so sorry I took my bad mood out on you.
You didn’t deserve that. Will you let me make it up to you? ”
Tucker’s words were sincere, but I felt my eyes narrow. “How?”
“First, can we start over?” When I gave him a tentative and slightly suspicious nod, he held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Tucker Sharpe.”
For a second, I just stared at him. Tucker held still, not pulling his hand back when my hesitation continued far beyond what was probably polite.
He was letting me come to him, and even though it was a tiny gesture, I appreciated it.
Finally, I reached out and accepted his offered handshake, trying not to gasp at the spark of awareness that went up my arm, making my skin tingle as Tucker’s fingers wrapped around mine.
My eyes shot to his, and I was happy to see he felt it too, his dark brown eyes slightly wide with surprise.
My gaze darted between his face and our joined hands as I tried to make sense of the feeling surging through my body.
It felt like the simple touch had both unsettled and calmed something deep inside me, and for some reason I couldn’t hope to understand, I never wanted to let Tucker’s hand go.
His fingers squeezed around mine a little tighter, and I realized he’d said something to me.
My brain caught up a second later, and my voice only shook a little as I responded. “I’m Misha. Misha Zimov.”
Tucker slowly slid his hand from mine, and I hated the loss of contact between us.
It felt like he’d taken all the heat from my body as the spark of awareness faded from my fingertips.
A shudder rolled through me, and I wrapped my arms around my middle, wishing he’d reach out and take my hand again.
Tucker frowned and took a tiny step back, clearly misinterpreting my protective gesture as he rubbed his palm on his black jeans like he was still feeling the phantom sensation of my fingers on his skin.
“It’s nice to officially meet you, Misha.”
I nodded and forced my arms to fall back to my sides. “You too. I really love the design you created for my tattoo.”
“No pressure, but do you want to come back and see it in real life? I have the stencil ready. If you’re not sure you want to move forward today, I’m happy to wait.”
I nodded again. I did want to see it, and I did really love the design.
It was everything I’d been hoping for and so much more.
I wanted it on my skin, but I also still kind of wanted to run.
My brain was trying to piece together the sweet guy I’d been emailing about my tattoo with the alpha asshole from the bakery, and I felt like I kept getting an error message as my mind tried to make the two fit.
Tucker had said it was just a bad day, and everyone had bad days, but I still wasn’t sure I was ready to trust him.
“Follow me.” Tucker led me around the little wall to a workstation with a padded bench and a black industrial toolbox covered in stickers.
The top had been meticulously covered with cling wrap and sterile paper and an array of what I assumed were tattoo tools in sterile packages were laid out in a neat row.
Several bottles of brightly colored ink were lined up behind the tools.
Tucker motioned for me to come closer when I stood motionless at the edge of his workspace, taking everything in.
Part of me couldn’t believe I was actually about to do this, but more of me wanted it so badly it made something in my core ache.
I took a deep breath, which was filled with Tucker’s heady bergamot, leather, and ink scent, and stepped closer until I was very clearly in his personal space.
He picked up a piece of nearly transparent paper with a purple outline on it and held it up for me to see.
“I did the stencil in a few different sizes so we could play around with placement. Do you want to see where it might look best?”
“Yes.” The single word came out breathless, and Tucker’s eyes darkened, his gaze going hot like I’d just agreed to something else. He held my gaze for a second, then blinked and cleared his throat.
He held out a hand, and for a second, I thought he meant to shake mine again.
When I didn’t move right away, he reached down and took my hand, lifting my arm so he could inspect it.
Goose bumps erupted all over my body as Tucker’s fingers skated over the sensitive skin of my inner arm.
I felt too cold and too hot at the same time, and I had a feeling the only thing that would ease the sensation was more of Tucker’s hands on me.
Without thinking, I blurted out the thought that had been circling in my head since he’d held up the stencil. “I want to do this today. Now. Please.”
Tucker’s eyes flew up to meet mine again, and a brilliant smile spread across his face.
If I’d thought he was gorgeous when he was scowling and broody, it was nothing to what he looked like when he smiled.
He reminded me of a fallen angel—breath-takingly beautiful but all dark and mysterious, and even though I’d never kissed anyone before in my whole life, I wanted to press my lips against his smile.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” This time my answer was steady and sure.
Tucker continued to beam at me. “Perfect.” He turned his attention back to the paper in his hand and held it up to my arm.
“I was thinking it might look best here.” His thumb stroked over my skin as he pressed the paper to my arm, wrapping it around me, and my body reacted to his touch.
My mouth went dry, and I swallowed hard as I looked down at where he held me. “What do you think?”
The way Tucker had placed the design, the flowers began at my wrist and flowed up my forearm and around to the outside of my elbow.
The last bee hovered right above the bend in my elbow on my upper arm.
Even through the paper, I could picture the tattoo in full color, the stems and vines of Alaskan wildflowers twining around my arm as bees buzzed around and through them.
It was going to be a stunning piece of art I couldn’t wait to have as a permanent part of my body.
“It’s perfect, Tucker. I love it.”
“We could go a little smaller.” He ran a finger over the thin skin covering the inside of my elbow where another bee would be placed. “If we scale it down, I won’t have to tattoo over the ditch. It can be pretty painful.”
I shook my head. “No. I love it just like this.”
Tucker’s expression turned serious. “If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“Okay, but if it’s too much, we can stop and take breaks. If it’s really bad, I can order some numbing cream, and we can do that part another time. You just have to tell me.”
I looked down at Tucker’s arms which were covered in ink, including over the sensitive spot he was warning me about, and my resolve snapped into place.
If an alpha could take it, so could I. After all, omegas were made to endure the pain of labor and childbirth, and if I ever eventually wanted that, I could sure as hell make it through a tattoo on sensitive skin.
“I will. If it’s too much, I promise I’ll say something.” I knew I wouldn’t, though.
“Okay, then the only thing left is to get you prepped and get the stencil placed.”
I took another deep breath, drawing in more of Tucker’s soothing scent and trying to ignore the way my heart flipped over in my chest in a way I instinctively knew had more to do with Tucker than with any nerves I was feeling about getting my first tattoo.
There was something about the alpha that had called to me since our first meeting, and knowing he was the sweet guy I’d been emailing with about my tattoo made me certain that our first meeting had been an anomaly, not the norm for Tucker.
Even though he’d been an ass the first time we’d met, my brain had finally reconciled the broody grump with the sweet and gentle man in front of me.
He was still gruff, but there was no malice behind it, and his voice, his attention, and his touch made me feel safe.
Made me feel something else that I had no business feeling.
Tucker’s thumb slid over my arm where he still held the stencil, and I shuddered, my cock twitching behind the zipper of my jeans, and I willed my body to calm down.
I tried to speak, but my voice didn’t come out, all the blood in my brain diverting south at the too innocent touch from the alpha who still held my arm in his callused, tattooed hand.
I closed my eyes and cleared my throat, hoping Tucker would interpret the gestures as nerves and not the arousal they were. “I’m ready.”
Tucker pulled the stencil away from my arm and set it back on his workstation. He gestured at the thickly padded black leather bench. “Get comfortable, and I’ll be right back.”
He walked past me, leaving his bergamot, leather, and ink scent in his wake, and my hole clenched.
I felt slick between my cheeks as I tried to take a deep breath, but that only filled my lungs with more of Tucker’s alluring scent.
I climbed up onto the bench and tried to position my body so my hard-on wasn’t obvious, but that just made me more aware of the slick in my crease.
I had no idea how I was going to get through having Tucker’s hands on my skin for the hours it was going to take to finish the tattoo without embarrassing myself, but I was damn sure going to try because the thought of walking out the door, of leaving Tucker, made my stomach hurt.