Chapter 30 （continuation） #2
“I don’t trust people,” he replies simply.
“I pick my canvas and I get more or less the same result each time. People are dangerous. You rarely know what you’re going to get.
I don’t want them to walk around with a piece of me on their bodies.
Nothing original. Nothing I’ve spent time and effort creating. ”
He sprays a foaming cleanser onto my arm and scrubs it clean with a paper towel before I can pull it back.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say. “I can just have Eve—”
I break off when Killian looks up with a glare. “If you’re getting a tattoo, I’m the only one who’s going to do it.”
“Eve can sketch something,” I say softly. “You don’t have to do it.”
Killian smiles softly. “Butterfly, I appreciate the offer, but do you think I would’ve sketched so many designs if I didn’t want to do this? You’re mine, and you already have more of me than anyone else can ever have. A piece of art is just my offering to you, my goddess of grace and beauty.”
So this is what love feels like. This big feeling that feels like it can’t be contained by your chest. I feel like I’m about to burst and I have to somehow keep it all inside.
A part of me might have always been in love with Killian.
The only difference is, now I don’t have to bury it so deep inside me that I forget the feeling exists.
And it doesn’t bring a tender ache with it, like an injury that never quite healed.
The strangest thing is, I don’t remember falling in love. Almost like I’ve always been in love with him so there was no before, and there is no after.
“I…thank you,” I choke out. “I accept your offering.”
Killian spreads a clear gel over my arm before pressing the design onto my skin. He rubs it in and when he removes the paper, the design is printed onto my skin.
“I already love it,” I whisper.
“You’re not going to love this part, unfortunately.”
Reaching out, I push back his hair and he glances up at me gratefully.
He picks up his tattoo gun and turns it on. I feel a prickle of pain on my skin, but it’s mostly uncomfortable rather than painful. I disassociate quickly, my focus on Killian, the way he’s bent over my arm, his concentration and care.
I only come to when Killian applies petroleum jelly over my reddened skin followed by a clear bandage. I stare at the tattoo for a long time.
“I love it,” I whisper.
“Now it’s your turn,” Killian says.
My head snaps up. “My turn to do what?”
“Give me a tattoo,” he says casually. He’s standing up and stretching his back before pulling his shirt over his head and setting it aside.
For a second, I’m lost in all the bare skin and muscles. When he turns around, I see the red marks along his back and I can’t stop myself from blushing. Only when he turns back to me do his words register.
“I’m sorry, what?!” I ask. “You want me to give you a tattoo?”
“Exactly.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“Are you high? I’m not a tattoo artist!”
I get off the chair and stand in front of him. Killian isn’t listening, though. He pulls out another transfer paper from his sketchbook on which he’s drawn another butterfly. The wings look like feathers.
I watch as he disposes the needle, ink cup, and tube he used on me and replaces everything from new packages.
“Killian, don’t,” I moan.
“Come on, Butterfly. Tattoo yourself on me,” he says, with a wink.
I press my hands against my burning cheeks. “I’m going to fuck this up.”
Killian settles down on the chair and motions to his lap. “Get up here. I’m going to guide you. I’d rather have a fucked up tattoo by you than one done by someone else.”
How am I supposed to resist when he flatters me? Nervously, I climb up onto the chair and straddle him. Killian rests a hand on my waist to steady me.
“Right here,” he says, tapping his chest right over his heart.
I don’t know if I should laugh or disassociate for a few days.
I was supposed to marry his brother today and here I am, inking an equally permanent bond onto our skin with Killian.
Maybe it was always supposed to be like this.
Maybe we were always meant to be connected in ways which can’t be erased. More than ink on paper.
“Clean my skin,” Killian guides.
I grab the cleanser and go through the same process he did with me. Once the sketch is on his skin, I sit back and stare at it.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “I mean, it’s kind of permanent unless you want to go through the painful process of removing it.”
Killian grabs the back of my neck and pulls me in for a quick, hard kiss. “I’m always sure.”
I nod, and pick up the tattoo gun. It feels strange in my hand and I’m suddenly grateful I got the tattoo on my left arm, and not the right.
“You’ve got this, baby,” Killian says, gently. “Don’t be nervous. I’m right here, and deep down you know you don’t want anyone else to do this.”
Of course, I don’t want anyone else to do this. This is between us, and there’s no room for anyone else here.
I breathe out, and turn the gun on. Killian wraps his arm around mine and guides it to his chest. I wince slightly as the needle presses on his skin and a drop of blood appears.
“Don’t worry, just clean it and keep going.”
I grab the tissue, clean the blood, and continue. I trace the lines on the sketch, Killian’s hand guiding mine while his other hand rubs circles on my back. I glance at him occasionally, see the gleam of possessiveness in his eyes, and I realize what it means.
There’s no going back.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” he praises gently.
I wipe away more blood. His praise eases me further and pretty soon, I’ve finished half the tattoo, and it looks good. Definitely not the botched job I was expecting.
“Atta girl,” Killian says with a grin.
I blush slightly. “Stop distracting me.”
I continue working even as Killian slips his hand under my tank top and rests against my bare skin. How does he think that’s less distracting? He digs his fingers into my waist, runs the back of them down my arm, plays with the hair slipping out of my bun.
“I’m going to push this needle in too hard if you keep that up,” I warn, my voice shaking. It doesn’t help that I can feel his hardness between my legs. How is this turning him on?
Killian rests his head on the back of the chair, watching me through hooded eyes. My back and legs ache from sitting in this position.
“I have no idea how you and Eve do this every day,” I say. “My back and legs hurt.”
“Well, we’re not straddling our clients, for starters,” Killian replies.
I flick my eyes up to him and find him watching me with an amused smirk.
“You’re the one who told me to get up here,” I defend.
“And I don’t have a single regret.”
I sit back once the tattoo is done and wipe it clean. It looks pretty darn perfect. The skin is red and inflamed, but once it calms down, the tattoo is going to be as perfect as mine.
“Look at that,” Killian says. “Got it on your first try.”
“First and only,” I remind him.
“We’ll see about that,” Killian says.
I put the gel over the tattoo and over it with the bandage. Leaning forward, I kiss the spot just below the bandage.
“Maybe everyone was right, and you are a bad influence on me,” I say.
Killian grabs my waist and pulls me forward. I fall against his chest. “And what are you going to do about it?”
I seal my mouth over his. Because if he’s a bad influence, then consider me thoroughly influenced.