Chapter 8 Misha #2
I’d made a few notes when I had a few spare moments between customers, and I pulled out the little notebook I used to take notes on all the recipes she’d been sharing with me.
“Well, beeswax obviously. It’s great for protecting the skin.
Then I was thinking jojoba oil, coconut oil, shea butter, maybe a bit of vitamin E, and calendula.
Here.” I held my notebook out to her. “These are the proportions I was thinking about. Do you think this will work?”
Her grin got even wider as she studied my notes. “What I think, my sweet boy, is that the student has become the teacher. This looks perfect.”
“I just used the sunburn salve recipe and tweaked it a bit.”
“That’s what this is all about. You should make some up and see what you think. You have that new tattoo to test it on.”
“I will pay you back for any materials I use.”
Miss Abbott blew a raspberry. “You’ll do no such thing. If it works out, you can sell it and keep all the profits.”
“But—”
She held up a hand. “No buts. You’re helping me with the bees and running the booth, and I want you to have your own ideas, Misha. I want you to take over the stall. I want this to be yours. If you use my old recipes, that’s just fine, but I know you have your own ideas.”
I didn’t know what to say. I did have my own ideas. My little notebook was packed with recipes I wanted to try and new products I wanted to make, but this felt like too much. “Really? Are you sure?”
“I’m old. I’m tired. And we both know I can’t do the heavy lifting. But you can, Misha. Everything I have, all the supplies, all the equipment, it’s all yours.”
A lump formed in my throat. I didn’t know what to say, so I pulled Miss Abbott into my arms and hugged her tight. She patted my back. “You’re a good boy, Misha.”
Her words reminded me of the way Tucker had told me how good I was for him while he’d done my tattoo, and I wondered if I’d have enough time to try making a batch of the tattoo balm before I went to meet him. He said he was going to be at his shop all day, and it was still early in the afternoon.
“Do you think I have time to try this recipe today?”
Miss Abbott’s smile turned knowing. “If we hustle, I think you just might.”
It was after six when I got to Quills and Ink. The sign on the door was flipped to closed, but there were still lights on inside, so I raised my hand and knocked on the glass.
A few seconds later, Tucker emerged from the hallway. “We’re closed.” He was scowling, until he saw me standing on the other side of the door, then his scowl morphed into a smile.
“Misha. I thought you weren’t going to come.
” He held the door open, and I stepped into the shop.
His scent swirled around us, and my internal tangles unknotted again.
I hadn’t even realized I’d been feeling twisted up again until the feeling slipped away.
Tucker locked the door, and when he turned back to me, that conflicted expression was back on his face.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” I needed to know what was going through his head.
“Like what?”
“Like you have something to say but you don’t want to say it.”
His expression slipped into a small scowl. “Because I have something to say but I don’t want to say it.”
“You have something you want to say to me?”
Tucker sighed. “Yes, but I don’t want to put any pressure on you. It wouldn’t be fair since I know your history, and the last thing I want is to be like the alphas you’re running from.”
I had no idea what he was talking about. Tucker was nothing like the alphas in my old colony. He’d never—okay, except maybe the first time we met—treated me like I was worthless. He’d made me feel safe and whole. He made me feel independent.
“What are you talking about?”
He took another deep breath and let it out slowly.
“I realized something the night I did your tattoo, and I know not all shifter species believe in the concept. Hell, until that night, I didn’t think I believed in it, but then there you were, and there was no other way to explain how I was feeling. ”
Tucker had started to pace while he ran a hand through his hair.
“And I want you to know that just because I’m one hundred percent sure about what I’m feeling, it doesn’t have to mean anything. I’m not expecting anything. Okay?”
“Um, okay. But I have no idea what you’re talking about. I feel like I’m missing something important.” Tucker turned to pace away, but I reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from turning away from me again. “Talk to me.”
His eyes found mine, and my heart sang. The strange expression was gone, and in the newly unguarded depths of his eyes I saw longing and desire that made my soul jump for joy.
In that moment, I knew no one would ever captivate me the way Tucker had.
I wanted him to keep looking at me the way he was right now.
I just wanted him.
Using the grip I still had on his wrist, I pulled Tucker closer to me until my lips were a breath away from his. “Tell me.”
“Misha, you’re my fated mate.”
The pieces fell into place. I felt homesick for Tucker because Tucker was my home.
I felt safe with him because in his arms was exactly where I was supposed to be.
And I loved him because he could have told me the night he tattooed his art onto my skin when he first realized our connection, but he didn’t because he didn’t want me to feel like he was trying to manipulate me.
He didn’t expect anything from me. He was giving me a choice regardless of what fate had already laid out.
And I was choosing him.
I brought my lips to his, and the second our mouths met, our connection locked into place. A small voice in the back of my mind whispered mine. Mate. My alpha. Mine.
And I knew it was true.
I wanted it to be true.
I wanted Tucker.
All the feelings that I’d had as he touched my skin and whispered words of praise came flooding back, and I leaned into him.
Tucker lifted me into his arms like I weighed nothing and backed me against the wall.
He deepened the kiss slanting his mouth over mine, his tongue teasing along the seam of my lips.
I gasped, and he took advantage, slipping his tongue into my mouth, tasting every inch of me as our bodies rocked together.
I could feel his hard length behind his zipper, and a thrill raced down my spine, landing in my balls.
It was a rush knowing I affected him the same way he affected me, and I didn’t try to hide my arousal from him.
I let him feel how hard he was making me, and I wasn’t embarrassed when I started leaking slick for him.
Our tongues tangled, the hard metal ball of Tucker’s tongue piercing contrasting with the softness of the rest of his mouth, and even though I’d never done anything like this before, I let instinct be my guide.
I let myself go. I let myself feel. I let myself take whatever I wanted from the man in my arms.
Tucker moaned into my mouth as my tongue teased over the barbell and my blunt fingernails scraped along the inked skin of his neck. He pressed his body tighter to mine, driving me harder into the wall, and a moan of my own reverberated through my chest.
Breathing hard, Tucker pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against mine.
“Fuck, I want you, Misha. If you don’t want this to go any further, if this isn’t what you want, I need you to tell me to stop right now.
Otherwise, I’m going to take you to my office, bend you over my desk, and make you mine. ”
A shudder rolled through me, pushing my body into Tucker’s. “Yes. Make me yours, Tucker. I want you.” The want felt more like need, like a hunger only he could satisfy, and I wanted everything he offered. I wanted it all.
The words had barely left my lips when the pressure of the wall at my back disappeared.
Tucker held on to me tightly as he navigated through the shop and down the hall, kicking open the door to his office as his lips moved along my neck, his teeth nipping gently at the sensitive skin until I was writhing in his arms, desperate for more of his touch on more of my body.
He adjusted me in his arms, kicked his chair out of the way, and swept a hand over the top of his desk, papers and whatever else had been on the desk cascading to the floor before he set me down.
My legs stayed wrapped around him, and his hands tangled in my hair, pushing it back off my face as he brought our mouths together again.
The kiss was brutal, echoing the desperation I felt, and I leaned into it, taking as much as I could from Tucker’s mouth.
But it wasn’t enough. I was fast learning that a million of Tucker’s kisses would never be enough.
I needed more. “Please.” I pressed the plea into his lips.
“What do you want, Misha?” Tucker’s mouth moved over mine as he asked the question that only had one response.
“Everything.”
Tucker lifted me into his arms again and set my feet on the ground.
My knees were shaky but Tucker held me steady, kissing me until I melted into him.
Then he turned me around so my back was pressed to his chest. His fingers slid under the hem of my shirt, and he pushed it up my chest, breaking the contact between us just long enough to pull it up over my head.
He tossed it away, his hands back on my body as he traced the contours of my chest. The lines of Tucker’s ink stood out against my pale skin, and I dropped my head back against his chest. Tucker’s fingers skated over my nipples, and I cried out, arching up into his touch.
It felt too good, like there was an electric connection between my nipples and my cock.
He repeated the touch, his thumbs teasing my nipples until I couldn’t catch my breath.
“You’re so responsive to my touch. I love it. Fuck, I can’t wait to make you come.”