Chapter 10
LAWSON
Finding her turns out to be pretty easy. Of course, she doesn’t answer her damn phone when I call from my truck, so I call the tattoo parlor instead. I know they stay open late on the weekends—because, yes, I’ve done some light internet stalking, sue me—and I’m hoping she’s working.
I’m pretty sure the girl that answers the phone is the same one who’d been at the reception desk the other day, the one who had loudly proclaimed to Nova that her visitor was hot.
She has that same flirty quality to her voice.
“Yeah, Nova’s in,” she says. “We’re here ’till two and taking walk-ins if you wanna stop by. ”
The idea of Nova working until two in the morning has my hackles rising. Does she walk to her car that late? Alone? She better fucking not.
One more thing to add to the list of shit we need to hash out tonight.
When I get to Empire of Ink, I do in fact find the same blonde girl at the desk as last time.
Tonight, she’s leaning over the reception counter talking to some biker looking dude that even I know is too old for her.
She’s batting her eyelashes like crazy and sticking her tits out and the guy is clearly eating it up.
Not wanting to stand there watching them eye-fuck all night, I motion to catch her attention then nod to the back. Her eyes go wide when she recognizes me, a smirk crossing her face. “She’s alone at her station right now,” the girl says, winking. “Have fun.”
I find Nova in the same room as before. Her head is bent over a sketch book and she’s humming softly, seeming to be fully engrossed in what she’s doing. That long curtain of messy waves calls to me. I want to feel how silky soft it is—then wrap it around my fist.
Nova is fucking gorgeous. I don’t get why it hits me so hard every time I see her. You’d think at some point I’d get used to what she looks like.
As much as I might enjoy standing there and watching her all night, I need to get shit straight between us. So I clear my throat, making her head pop up. When she sees me, her eyes go wide. “Lawson,” she squeaks out.
“So you do remember me,” I say drily, taking a step into the room.
“Of course I do,” she stammers.
I shut the door behind me and raise an eyebrow. “I’m a little surprised to hear that—since you’ve been avoiding me like the plague, I thought maybe you forgot I existed.”
She looks flustered as she shakes her head. “I told you, I’ve been busy.”
“Bullshit.”
Her expression goes from sheepish to annoyed. “You were too busy to call me for nine days, if I remember correctly,” she snaps.
“And I apologized for that.” I continue to walk toward her, steps slow but steady. The closer I get the more she fidgets, her hands moving to cover the sketch she’d been working on. “I thought we agreed we were going to try things out while you’re still in town.”
Her expression shifts again, something like sadness flickering through her eyes. “I needed some space,” she says softly.
I’m close enough now to see the sketch, though her hands are covering most of it. Seeing where my attention is, she gets flustered all over again, moving to shut the sketchbook and put it away. I manage to grab it before she can, wanting to know what she’s so desperate for me to not see.
“Lawson, you can’t just—”
But I flip to the page she was working on and everything in me seems to go still.
She’s drawn me. It’s not a close up of my face, but I know without a doubt that the figure she’s sketched leaning against a tree is me. She’s drawn me the night we met, when I waited for her to finish up at the booth.
“Guess you haven’t forgotten me after all,” I murmur, staring down at the dark pencil strokes. She’s made me look mysterious, the lines heavy and intense.
She snatches the book from my hands, looking pissed now. “You can’t just show up here and take my things,” she snaps. “I’m working, Lawson.”
I stare down at her, something shifting in my chest. This isn’t one-sided, I realize. The draw I feel to her, the way it seems like we’re connected. That’s not in my head—she feels it too. Whatever is happening between the two of us, it’s affecting her just as much as me.
And there’s no fucking chance I’m walking away from her now.
“I know you’re working,” I say smoothly, shifting gears. “I thought it would be the perfect time to get started on my tattoo.” I hop up on the table, smiling when her scowl grows.
“You can’t just come in here and demand a tattoo!”
I try to make my expression innocent. “The girl in front said you’re taking walk-ins. Am I not a walk-in?”
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, clearly trying to keep from losing her temper. “Fine,” she says through gritted teeth. “I’ll work on the transfer film and we can get started. “
I shrug. “You could just free-hand it. I trust you.” My eyes travel to the abandoned sketchbook. “You’re clearly talented as fuck.”
She studies my face for a long time before she sighs and turns her back, gathering up supplies. I grin to myself as I take off my shirt and settle back on the table, looking forward to spending the next hour with her hands on me.
She manages not to react to me with my shirt off this time, besides for a subtle clenching of her teeth.
She cleans the area then pulls out a razor and some shaving cream.
I watch her face as she works, unable to take my eyes off her.
“You really are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” I murmur, and her eyes snap up to meet mine.
We’re close now, only a few inches apart, and we both go still as we stare at each other. “I’m sorry,” she finally whispers. “I was avoiding you.”
“Why?” I ask, trying and failing to keep the hurt out of my voice. “I thought we had a good time. Did you…did you not like it?” I fucking hate how vulnerable I sound, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Not hearing from her after what we shared fucking sucked, and I need to know why.
She makes a disbelieving noise. “Of course I liked it,” she scoffs. “Did I not make that clear at the time?” I just raise an eyebrow, waiting, and she sighs. “I maybe liked it too much, actually. It was…intense. And I wasn’t sure how to handle that.”
I swallow, feeling a strange tightening in my chest. The vulnerability from before is fading, taken over by something stronger. Something protective, maybe even a little possessive. I bring a hand to her face, relief hitting me when she leans into my palm.
“It was intense for me, too. But I don’t want to walk away from it.”
“I’m still leaving,” she whispers.
My gut clenches at the reminder. “I still don’t want to walk away,” I admit.
When she doesn’t respond, I rub my thumb over her petal-soft cheek.
“If all I get with you is a few weeks, I’ll take it.
” I shrug, deciding I may as well lay it all out there.
“I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me, Nova. ”
She stares at me for a moment, silent and wide-eyed, and I wonder if I went too far, revealed too much. But then her lips are on mine, her hands coming up to tangle in my hair, and I groan in relief and pleasure.
Her kiss is like a lit fuse. I can’t get close enough to her, can’t get enough of her skin under my hands. She’s wearing a flowy little sundress today, and I have the tiny straps down over her shoulders before she can protest, my lips forging a path down her neck.
“Lawson,” she moans when I suck on the skin over her collarbone.
“Does that door lock?” I growl, my fingers pausing on the neckline of her sundress.
I want to get it off her more than I want my next breath, but the idea of anyone coming in and seeing her like this makes me want to tear shit apart.
A few weeks or not, this woman is mine, and no one else is going to see her body.
“Yes.” But she wraps her arms around my shoulders, keeping me from moving. “I don’t want to let go of you long enough to lock it,” she admits, laughing a little, breathless.
I grin and slip my hands down to her ass, lifting her in one movement while I stand from the table.
“I’m not letting go of you, baby,” I promise, my lips going back to her neck while I stumble us to the door.
Her hands smack against the wood behind her, grappling for the handle while I refuse to let up on her skin.
She tastes so fucking sweet, like peppermint and sugar, and I don’t ever want to stop kissing her.
She finally manages to get the door locked, a satisfying clink hitting the air.
I immediately go back to what I was doing with her neckline, pulling it down to reveal burgundy lace.
“You were wearing this little bra at the carnival, weren’t you?
” I ask. “I remember how pretty your nipples looked peeking out over the top of it.”
“Lawson,” she gasps, her head falling back against the door as I bring my mouth to the lace, sucking her through the fabric.
I press her harder into the wood at her back, needing my body to be closer to hers.
With her legs wrapped around me, I can feel the heat of her center against my thigh and I groan, grinding my leg against hers until she cries out.
“Better be quiet, Nova,” I mutter against the lace of her bra. “You don’t want someone to hear, do you?”
She moans and I grin, knowing she would like that. My girl really is into the idea of being caught, just like in that hot air balloon. I grind into her again and her head bumps the door, harder this time.
“Wait,” she gasps, her hands trying to pull my head away. “We can’t do this against the door.”
“Like fuck we can’t.” I’m already trying to figure out how to get my pants undone without letting her go. I need to be inside her, now.
“No, Lawson,” she whimpers because her nipple is back in my mouth. “Someone will hear. The doors here are thin, they rattle like crazy.”