“If you want, I’ll draw you something custom.”
I peek over at him. “You’d do that?”
“For a price.” He smirks.
“Something tells me you’re not talking cash.”
He leans his big body forward, snags the rolling chair and drags me to him before spinning me around to face him fully. He leans his forearms on the chair’s armrests and brings his face to mine. The reflection of the light on his silver lip ring winks before he presses his lips to mine in a gentle kiss. “You’re very observant.” His hot breath ghosts across my lips.
“You mean to turn me into a prostitute then?”
He frowns, as if the very thought offends him. “Of course not.”
I lift a brow in challenge.
“Let me pick.”
“You want me to give you the power to choose what I have tattooed on my body? Permanently.”
He nods. “And I get to pick where.”
“Funny, I thought we’d already been over my control issues.”
“So, let go.” He grabs my hand and runs my knuckles against his lips. “Give up control this once and you might be surprised by how much you like it.”
Goosebumps dance up my arm in a persuasive wave. He’s asking me to trust him, and this isn’t the first time.
“If nothing else, a tattoo is one more thing that’ll piss your dad off.”
He watches my growing smile and mirrors it back. Not once has he tried to talk me out of hating my dad, not once has he tried to change me.
The kids in boarding school assumed I had a great relationship with my Dad. On family visit weekends I’d lie and tell people my dad couldn’t make it because he’s building hospitals in third world countries or attending UNICEF conventions. Theodore is the only one who knows the truth, and accepts me, daddy issues and all. If anyone has proved worthy of my trust, it’s him.
“Deal.”
He jerks at my quick response. “Are you serious?” A hopeful grin tugs his lips.
“Let’s do it. You design it, pick the location, and I’ll get it done.”
“I’m paying for it.”
“Good, because I have no idea how much a tattoo costs but I’m going to assume it’s more than I can afford.”
The way his face lights up reminds me of the orphan kids we’d volunteer with during Christmas when they got a pair of new shoes. “Friday night.”
“Sure.” A swirling sensation in my torso catches my attention, so much that I press my palm to my stomach.
His dark brows turn to thick slashes on his forehead. “You okay?”
I take a quick inventory of my body and realize the feeling in my stomach is the same I felt on my very first roller coaster ride when I was seven years old. “I think I’m just…excited.”
First surprise and now excitement?
This man is managing to bring me back to life one nerve ending at a time.
Chapter Seventeen
Spider
Friday night I pull up to Ink’d Misfit with Emery shifting impatiently in the passenger seat of my car.
I picked her up from the coffee shop after her shift with the instructions to bring a change of clothes. Preferably something like a dress or skirt for easy access. Her bare thighs squeeze together beneath her virginal-looking white sundress. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail with a pink silk scarf tied around it and I’m beginning to accept that I’ll never stop being surprised by her beauty. Every time I look at her I find new things about her that blow me away. The way her nose turns up slightly at the tip, the dark freckle on her neck just below her left ear, her tiny overbite that accentuates her innocent-looking exterior.
“Take a picture, it lasts longer.”
My gaze snaps to hers to find she’s smiling playfully. “You still sure you want to go through with this?” I look pointedly at her hands fisted together in her lap.
She opens the car door by way of answer and heads inside the tattoo shop in front of me. By the time I push in through the door she’s already engaged in a conversation with the man at the reception desk. The light glints off his shaved, tattooed head as he openly sizes Emery up. He points to a wall on the far side of the room. “Hearts, stars, dolphins and Greek letters are over there.”
I laugh at his quick and grossly wrong assumption. “We have an appointment with Mike.”
The man lifts both his dark brows. “Spider?”
I shake the man’s hand and surprise him when I throw my arm over Emery’s shoulders. “Good to see you, Joel.”
“Yo, Mike!” He yells without taking his eyes off where my hand dangles over Emery’s breast. “Your nine o’clock is here!” He continues to allow his eyes to roam between me and Emery as if he doesn’t believe what he’s seeing.
I can tell by his expression he’s wondering how does a guy like me get a woman like her.
Fuck you, Joel.
“Yo, Spider!” Mike comes barreling down the hallway, mohawk, piercings all over his face. “Come in, come in.”
I snag Emery by the hand and pull her along until we’re inside Mike’s room where the magic happens. “Emery, this is Mike. Mike, this is your canvas.”
His gaze devours her form, the innocence of her exterior such a conflict to her thorny interior. One of the reasons I love her so much.
Whoa.
The noise in the room turns to static as I internally lose my shit.
I do not love.
I’ve never loved anyone in my life. The only thing I’ve ever felt for another living soul is lust and loyalty—the first for women, that latter for my teammates.
As I watch Emery interact with Mike, her practiced smile and appropriate responses, I’m oddly comforted by the cold stare she aims his way. The same disconnect she uses with everyone else. Everyone else, except me.
My chest swells and I’m nearly knocked backwards when a surge of realization hits me.
I want every square inch of her body, and I’d lay down my life to protect it.
Lust and loyalty.
Not exactly love, but
