Chapter 21 #2
“I’m a little nervous. I think we should start slow. I’m recently out of a relationship, I just want to make sure I’m not jumping into something too soon. Especially with you.”
I examine her cautious expression. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course,” she says, pulling a thicker line with her new needle.
“Good. Look, I’m not going to lie to you, if the kind of slow you’re talking about is rooted in hesitancy, then I’m not interested. I want you all in.”
She scoffs. “I’m not allowed to be nervous?”
“You’re allowed to feel anything you want, but you also need to understand my intentions. That’s why we’re talking about it.”
Kelly takes more ink into her needle. “So what are your intentions?”
I gather my words carefully. “This will never be a ‘see what happens’ thing for me. I’m not built that way—not when it comes to you.”
“We’ve known each other for a long time, don’t you think we should start casually?”
I bark out a laugh. “We’ve known each other too long for us to ever be casual. Us and casual will never coexist.”
“You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?” she asks.
Years. It wasn’t until she expressed that Jason could be something long-term that I realized she had reached that point in her maturity when she was ready for more. When I learned she desired something more than dating and was planning for something that didn’t have an end date.
“Yes.”
“You sound like an intense boyfriend.” She chuckles.
A smile spreads across my face. Wait till you see how I am as your husband.
“I’m not a boy, Chaos—and I’m not your friend.” Not after feeling her lips on mine.
She stops tattooing and sits up straight, looking me in the eye.
“I’m a man who knows what he wants. For years I’ve stood in the background, biding my time while you chased flings. It wasn’t patience, it was discipline. The way I wanted you never grew stronger—it grew darker. There’s no one else for me. You’re it.”
It’s not a coincidence I haven’t dated anyone all this time.
Her lips part. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“Because you weren’t ready to want me back—not in the way I did.
Your dad knew that, and made me promise to give you time to live your life freely without being tied down to someone like me.
” I rest my palm on her warm thigh. “But now you’re a big girl who can make her own decisions.
So, what is it going to be . . . are you ready for me, or do you need a couple more years to figure out what you don’t want? ”
Her cheeks darken into a beautiful rosy hue.
For years, this woman has silently crawled up my sides, growing like wild untamed vines, wrapping around my neck and rib cage.
There’s no use in trying to cut away my desire for her.
I’ve tried, and every time, it grew back stronger.
It’s too late to slow down or scale back.
Our lives are too tangled together—our relationship is inevitable.
“Logan . . .”
“I’m just asking you to continue to trust me.” This time with her heart.
“Okay.”
I smile. “You’re ready?”
She attempts to stifle a grin. “I’ve already kissed you. I think we both know there’s no going back after that.”
Cradling her face, I draw her lips to mine and kiss her again. She sighs softly. I no longer have to wonder what she tastes like or how her mouth feels on mine. I can finally kiss her whenever the thought crosses my mind.
With flushed cheeks, she presses her elbow into my chest and nudges me to sit back into her client chair, narrowing her eyes at my smug grin.
She draws more ink into the needle and returns her focus to my arm. “Stop distracting me. I’m trying to work.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I grin.
“Yeah, right . . . How’s everything feeling, by the way?” she asks.
“Great. You have a light touch.”
“Just wait until I start blacking out your elbow,” she mutters under her breath. “Think you’ll be able to keep up your intensity when you start crying in my chair?”
I wink at her. “I like when it hurts.” I’m convinced any pain inflicted by her hand will feel like pleasure. She’s claiming me with ink, it should hurt. This is forever.
She speaks softly as she pulls line after line on my arm. “I think you’re going to cry.”
“I look cute when I cry.”
Someday, she’ll give me her tears too, and I’ll earn them. One thrust at a time.
“Are you ready for a break?” she asks at the two-hour mark. The past couple hours have flown by, thanks to conversation. Though even in the spans of silence where I simply watch her work, the minutes pass like seconds.
“Why? Is your hand getting tired?”
She sits up and raises an eyebrow with a little feistiness. “Are you patronizing me?”
I chuckle. “No, just asking if you want a rest.”
She returns to my lower bicep. “Please. You’ll break before I do,” she says slowly, keeping her anchor point while she shades the lower part of my arm. She’s right, the elbow is going to hurt like a motherfucker.
Her phone buzzes from across the way. I know it’s not Jason because I took care of that. I can see the notification that pops up on the screen from here.
“Someone sent you a DM on Instagram.” I glance over at her. “Have you been getting a lot of requests for Bozeman openings?”
She gives an exaggerated huff. “Yeah.”
I cock my head to the side. “Then why the big sigh?”
“Nothing,” she says, but there’s an awkward pause after her words. What is she not telling me? “I’ve been getting these weird messages lately. They are starting to get on my nerves.”
That has my attention. My shoulders automatically square, my molars compressing until my jaw aches. Every muscle is coiled tight as I attempt to remain calm.
“What do you mean? Who are they from?”
“I dunno, they come from different accounts. I block them and then a few days later, there’s another message.
They all say the same thing: You will never replace me.
Might be Jason, or who knows, maybe somebody’s trying to fuck with me before the convention or something.
You know they bumped us up the list at the expo, maybe we took someone’s place and they’re pissed about it?
I know it’s a long shot, but those are the only things I can come up with. ”
What the fuck? “How long has this been going on?”
She shrugs, swapping out needles for a bigger shader. “Few weeks.”
“A few weeks?”
“Since we split up.”
Would Jason really be that fucking dumb to send her messages after the warning I gave him?
Looks like I might have to pay him a visit after all .
. . The organizers for Bozeman moved Black Rabbit into a headliner spot on the website, noting Kelly’s name.
It’s her first time tattooing at a convention in front of an audience, and with tattoo royalty in her bloodline, of course the organizers wanted to showcase it.
The posts have been spreading like wildfire.
Kelly is hot news right now. The other option is . . . Billy.
“I’ll look into it,” I assure her.
“It’s fine, Logan. Really. They’ll probably stop after we return from Bozeman . . . Just don’t do anything until after. Please don’t give me more to think about. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
I purse my lips at the request, annoyingly aware that if I push too hard right now, it might scare her away. I’ll give her till we return, but after that, I’m taking it into my own hands.
“All right, time for the elbow,” she warns, adjusting the armrest and putting me in a new position that gives her better access. “Deep breath.”
I lean back in my seat. The only thing bringing me unease are these messages—and the occasional tweaked nerve that shoots up my spine while she paints the cluster of needles over my bone.
I stare down at her thick black lashes as she works with laser focus, letting her beauty distract me from the protective impulse to hide her away from the world.
After crisscrossing lines again and again until they blend in with my blackout, Kelly goes in with white ink to touch up areas where there should be more brightness.
When she uses it on top of my existing ink, I give her some direction, as the white is simply mixing with the black pigment already deposited into my skin, giving the appearance of slices of negative space cutting into the once-covered area.
She takes my instruction and implements the design like a pro.
The white on black has a bit of a learning curve—it forces you to invert the design in your head, sort of like figuring out if zebras are white with black stripes or vice versa.
She manages just fine, like I knew she would.
After eleven hours, with a few intermissions in between, she finally sits back, peels off her gloves, and gives the finished piece a once-over.
A few tremors roll through my sensitive flesh.
It’s been a while since I’ve had a session this long; I’m probably going to feel like shit later once the tattoo flu sets in.
The silence settles between us, and I catch the moment she realizes how beautiful it is. Her eyes soften and her lips part. “Wow.”
“See it now?”
Her eyes find mine, and her smile widens. “You know, I wasn’t sure at first, but . . . Damn, I’m into it. I actually kinda love it.”
“Me too.”