“Theodore?” My gaze snaps to hers at the sound of my name. Her blonde brows are pinched with concern. “Mike asked you a question.”
His eyes are wide and slightly amused. “Yeah, Theodore.”
A growl works it’s way up my throat, but before I can reprimand the dickhead for using my given name, Emery’s glare melts through him.
“Don’t,” she says firmly enough to make the tattoo artist flinch. Fuck, I dig how people underestimate her. “He doesn’t like people calling him that.”
I slip my hand beneath her ponytail, grip her nape, and run my thumb along her pulse point until I feel her muscles relax slightly in my hand. “Kitten,” I whisper and kiss her cheek before addressing Mike. “Her inner thigh.” I answer the question Mike asked while I was in my own head.
He sits at his rolling chair and pats the padded table. “Climb on up.”
She slides onto the table and lies back with her knees together. “Out of all the places you could’ve picked…”
I run my hand from her ankle, up her calf, to her knee where I tug slightly for her to open her legs. Just like I thought, she doesn’t hesitate, and her thighs part beautifully to expose pale skin and a strip of her white cotton panties. My hand continues the journey north, over the soft pillow of her inner thigh to between her legs where I tug the fabric of her dress down to protect her from Mike’s wandering eyes.
“Right here,” I say as I circle the area of skin I imagined my piece being tattooed on. Mike preps the artwork I sent over and I look at Emery. “It’ll be easy to hide here.”
Her breath hitches as I run my fingertips over her skin. “What if I don’t want to hide it?”
“Then you’re going to have to wear a shorter skirt.”
Mike gives her a few instructions to readjust her position and I have her close her eyes while he transfers the template to her skin.
“Nervous?” I ask as Mike dips his needle into the ink.
“Excited.”
“This’ll sting a little,” Mike says, positioning himself between her open legs.
“I’m counting on it,” she says in her monotone, unaffected way.
Mike shakes his head and I chuckle. I think the guy is starting to understand Emery’s appeal, she’s so much more than a pretty face wrapped in classy clothes.
For the next two hours Mike inks my custom art onto Emery’s skin. I watch carefully for any sign of pain, my instincts prepared to rip Mike’s arms off his body at the first sign of discomfort. But Emery continues to surprise. She doesn’t show any signs of distress, if anything she seems more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her. Her eyelids grow heavy and she rests quietly rather than filling the time with nervous chatter like most girls. I watch as the image comes together in ink and blood. A rush of arousal slides through me as I’m reminded, for what seems like the millionth time, that Emery is the perfect woman.
Mike puts down the gun and wipes her skin a final time. “You’re a champ. I wish every client was as easy.” He jerks his chin toward the mirror.
I help her sit up and she hops off the table and lifts her dress, tilting her head to see the art inked on her pale skin. “You decided to pee on me after all.”
Laughter bursts from my lips. “I warned you I might.” I come up behind her and pull her skirt up from behind, studying the reflection of her tattoo from over her shoulder. A bouquet of abstract, pastel flowers with a spider on a web keeping them bundled together at the stems. “Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful,” she says quietly.
I bring my lips to her ear. “It’s us.”
Her body stills.
Seconds go by without a reaction and I wonder if I’ve gone too far, exposed too much. I move away to give her space only to have her whirl around and slam her lips to mine.
Hours of sexual tension explode and I push her against the wall, grab her ass and deepen the kiss. We tangle together in a flurry of teeth, tongues and greedy hands. Somewhere in the distance I hear Mike clear his throat and ignore him. Emery hitches her leg up on my hip.
I grab her knee and pull away. “Gentle, kitten.” I squeeze her outer thigh. “Gotta be careful or it won’t heal right.”
She stares up at me, a tornado of emotions swirling in her eyes so intensely familiar that I wonder if she’s having the same experience as I did earlier.
Do you think you’re falling in love, Kitten?
Me too.
Chapter Eighteen
Emery
I haven’t seen Theodore much this week, mostly because he’s been busy with practice and school and I picked up a few extra shifts at the coffee shop because I need the money and an excuse to avoid my dad. We have texted and had conversations on the phone that lasted until the early hours the next day. I wake up those mornings feeling ashamed for giving in to these foolish, female emotions. I blame Theodore, for a man as intimidating as he is, he’s annoyingly easy to talk to.
My guard falls easier and easier in his presence.
By the time Thursday rolls around I catch myself feeling antsy for the weekend when I’ll get to see him again—something I find troublesome. This thing between us has morphed from meaningless hook ups to an arrangement that feels an awful lot like a relationship. At least, I think this is what a relationship would feel like. I have no personal experience to go by.
I never wanted to be in a relationship, and yet…here I am.
I’m grateful work has been busy as it helps to keep my mind away from overthinking things with Theodore. Midway though the fall semester and the coffee shop has been packed with study groups. There isn’t a ridiculously complex coffee order I haven’t
