Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
LINDY
As I locked up Lenore’s Lace, I spotted the Flames prospect down the street, watching me. I’d texted him earlier to let him know I’d be going to the tattoo shop down the block. Lenore was there having work done, and I’d meet her there and we’d go home together.
I learned the other night at Dead Ringers that Trash Ink was owned by Wes’s mom and her boyfriend, Ronny. My dad had gotten work done at Ronny’s shop in Deadwood not too long ago. Meager’s Trash Ink was on a corner with a wall of windows, so you had a great view of the goings on inside. The place was full.
“Hey, how can I help you?” A green-haired girl with loads of piercings along both ears and in her nose smiled at me from the front desk.
“Hi. I’m supposed to meet Lenore here.”
“Are you Lindy?”
“That’s me.”
She grinned. “I’m Rachel. Lenore told me you’d be coming. She should be finishing in another twenty minutes or so. Can I get you something to drink while you wait?”
“I’m good, thanks. Could I ask you about making an appointment for myself?”
“You bet. What do you need done?”
“I have a tattoo that never got finished, and it also needs improving.”
“Do you know what kind of design you want?”
“I do, yes.”
“Great, half the battle. There’s an opening at the end of this week, or there’s next Wednesday. When would you like to come in?”
“Come in for what?”
My heart stopped at the sound of Wes’s voice. I raised my head. There he was, behind the reception desk area, leaning against a wall, muscular tattooed arms visible from his cut-off T, and those gorgeous blue eyes of his narrowing at me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I work here.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Hi, Wes,” chirped one of the teenage girls seated in the waiting area behind me. He lifted his chin in her direction, and his attention immediately returned to me.
Rachel rolled her eyes. “He’s good for business. Thank God he’s talented.”
We both laughed as Wes came over to the counter. “You need work done on an existing tat?”
“I do.”
“Why don’t I take a look?”
“Reminder, you have an appointment in twenty minutes,” said Rachel.
“I know. This won’t take long.”
Rachel glanced at the large clock on the wall. “Lindy, you up for Wes taking a look and doing a preliminary sketch?”
“Um. Sure.”
“Follow me,” said Wes. My heart pounded in my chest as I followed Wes into a back room. “You have a lot of tattoos?” He gestured at the lounger chair and lit the big lamp that towered overhead, the rest of the room in darkness. He pulled on black latex gloves, snapping them on his large hands. Hands that soon would be touching me.
My pulse thrummed. “Only two. For now. I’d really like more, but I haven’t had the chance.”
“So where is this tattoo?”
I kicked off my Hi-Tops. “On my inner thigh.”
His eyebrows jumped and his jaw clenched.
Holding his intense gaze, the blood rushed in my veins as I unbuttoned my jeans and peeled them down my legs. He remained still.
Turning around, I picked up my jeans and folded them across the arm of the lounger. A growl rose behind me, and I grinned to myself. I’d given him a full-on view of my ass in my new thong panties. Luckily, today I was wearing one of Lenore’s luxury band designs in a bright turquoise color, and not one of my simple cotton undies. I hopped on the lounger.
“Show me.” His voice was positively stony.
I spread my legs, and my fingertip traced around the design on my upper inner left thigh.
“What’s the issue?” Touching my leg, he leaned in to inspect the artwork, and my breath cut. Wes touched me, his touch barely a trace, and yet it burned over my flesh as his hot breath fanned my delicate skin.
“ Hell No, ” he repeated the words on the design. His fingertips pushed gently on my leg to get a full view of the artwork. Beneath the words “Hell No” was a demon’s fiery red eyes. “Not very welcoming, is it?” he muttered.
“Not meant to be.”
“When did you get this?”
“Eight years ago.”
His gaze darted up at me.
“Did it because of you,” I said. “But now I want to fix it. Make it…welcoming.”
“Oh yeah?” His lips pressed into a firm line.
“I’d like a friendlier message to all who may enter.”
“You got plans, huh?”
“Open to possibilities.”
“Mmm.” His neck stiffened. “Any idea on how you’d like to make this harsh warning welcoming and friendly?”
“I want a Hell Yes underneath the Hell No and a tongue on the bottom of that, licking at the YES.”
“A tongue licking?”
“Something that drips of anticipation and temptation.”
His jaw muscles flexed. “Uh-huh. And which kind of vibe are you going for in particular? Enter at your own risk or come on in, y’all?”
I shot him a smirk. “Enter at your own risk.”
“Got it.” His lips curling, he ripped off one glove. “Keep your legs open like this while I sketch out an idea.” He tilted the spotlight over my tattoo and grabbed a sketchbook and a pencil. His hand flew over the paper, and his eyebrows scrunched as he glanced at my tat and back to his sketch and back to my tat.
Despite the air conditioning, my flesh prickled with heat. I was on display, his artwork in the making. Even though the padded lounger was perfectly comfortable, my muscles remained tense, my back rigid, my chest tight.
An ache spiraled through me as he worked. I was the object of his creativity, a creativity that hummed between us.
“How about this?” He handed me the sketchbook as I sat up.
A lasciviously long red tongue beckoned from the bottom of the Hell Yes addition. The new letters were scripted in gold, not red like the Hell No. Blue roses and thorny vines wrapped around the letters. The tongue had a few drops of blood falling where it had been pricked by the thorns. My lips parted. It was utterly beautiful.
“What do you think?”
“It’s perfect.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re very good.”
“Thanks. I figure…” He leaned in closer, and a shudder went through me, the warmth of his body positively palpable. My hands gripped the sides of the lounger to keep steady, my nails digging into the vinyl. “Right here we could do more vine work—” His gloved fingers traced and stroked my upper thigh, all the way up. Heat hurtled through me as his stroke took my breath away and aroused every cell in my body. “A thorny vine that would lead straight to your pussy.”
I hissed in air at the sound of that word easily passing his lips. An electrical current raged in the room around us, between us.
“Maintains the warning theme, yet breaks out an invitation all at once. But it’s a dangerous invitation.” His breathing had gotten heavy, hard.
My breathing had gotten heavy. “Mmm.”
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” The darkness in the room had become velvety and thick.
“Uh uh.” I swallowed hard, but it did nothing to ease the massive swell of cement in my chest or relieve the knot of heat between my legs.
His knuckles brushed against the uppermost part of my thigh, and my clit swelled and throbbed under his simple and brief touch. My muscles ached as I tried hard to hold myself steady and not waver, not move an inch. I prayed my undies would not get visibly wet because, dammit, I was getting wet. I could feel it.
“Lindy?” His voice was hoarse. “You want it?”
My chest squeezed painfully, I could barely breathe. YES YES, I WANT IT. I WANT YOU. “Uh...I…”
His tongue slid out and lashed his upper lip once more. “You want the vine around your thigh? You like that idea?” His thumb absently stroked my leg.
A small moan escaped my throat. “I like it. Very much.”
“Me too.” Releasing me, he wrote something on his sketch. “Think about if you want to do something on the other leg too.” His arm lifted swiftly and he snapped the light off, pushing back from me like a doctor having finished his study of the patient. He ripped off the latex glove, a jarring sound that sheared through me.
Sliding off the lounger, I quickly yanked up my jeans. I grabbed my sneakers, my fingers fumbling as I fought to tie my laces.
That intense heat between us was still there. For me, like it always had been. He didn’t look up but remained focused on his sketch. Did he feel it? Was he fighting it too, or enjoying it and playing it cool? Or simply being professional?
“Make an appointment and we’ll get it done.”
Professional and good at playing it cool. How the heck would I survive him inking my thigh for fuck’s sake?
“I will.” I charged out the door, my heart banging in my chest.
What did I get myself into now?