Holiday Sparks (12 page)

Evidently it had been a slow night last night. When Cesar got bored, he started sculpting. The medium of the month was glue and paper. God help him. “Cee, where are you?” he shouted over the driving industrial music.

“I’m workin’! You know the music is only this loud if I’m mid-ink.”

Ben climbed the three stairs to the upper studio where Cesar worked in a Plexiglas box. Personally, Ben didn’t like the entire waiting room watching him like that.

Cesar was definitely the exhibitionist of their outfit. A woman with breasts the good Lord certainly hadn’t given her was sprawled out on the extra-wide chair his partner had made himself. He was shading a delicate daisy around the woman’s nipple.

“Uh—sorry.”

“It’s fine.” The woman waved him in.

One of the things that continued to amaze him was the vast array of people that came in. Some were so modest he needed a penlight to do the work so they could remain covered, and some just didn’t care in the least. Cesar got the ones that modesty forgot.

“I’ve got a few appointments, you?”

“Yeah, maybe four more today.”

Ben nodded. “Cool, I’ll catch you on the downtime.” He went back out to the waiting room and busied himself with the day-to-day details that Cesar found too boring to deal with. The routine grounded him. Ordering in the special inks they needed for an expo, their standard colors, office supplies and cleaners. They couldn’t trust anyone else but themselves when it came to keeping a clean shop.

The people in his business were fastidious for a reason and those that weren’t didn’t have any right to hold a tattoo gun. Disgusted that everything in his brain headed into negativity, he opened his sketchbook. That was one thing he and Cesar would always agree on. Sketch through the shitty days.

His evening picked up with a few walk-ins that he shared with Cesar. The newly of-age kid he’d been set to meet up with couldn’t make it. Which was probably a good thing. He didn’t have the patience to handhold and talk the kid out of getting a dinner-plate-sized skull on his back tonight.

He kneaded his fingertips into the tight muscles at the base of his neck and flipped to a fresh page in his notebook.

“You know, if you wanna talk about it or some shit, I can.”

Ben looked up at Cesar. His friend rubbed at the severe fade that stacked up the back of his head. “Anyone as twisted up as you are has chick problems. I suck at chick problems, but I can—you know, listen.”

He laughed for the first time in days. A week and a half without Darcy and he was a fucking head case. Cesar was so uncomfortable Ben was pretty sure the bottle of whiskey under the counter was going to come out next. When in doubt, get drunk. That was his friend’s motto.

“I’ve been that bad?”

“Maybe.”

Ben stood, slapped his friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, Cee. I’m good. I thought I found someone, but it turned out to be a bit of a clusterfuck. Shit happens.”

“Was she hot?” Cesar folded his arms over his massive chest.

“Yeah. She’s that chilly kind of hot that warms up when she smiles.”

“Tall?”

Ben frowned. “Yeah, actually. Almost six-feet tall. Why?”

“Hot chick at your six, bro.”

Ben turned around. Darcy stood in the doorway of his shop. All the air in his lungs stalled, then backed up. He rubbed at the burning knot under his breastbone.

She had a blood-red hip-length coat on today. Her hair was windblown. Actually, a little on the wild side for Darcy. She stalked forward. “You took down the lights.”

Ben lifted his chin. He didn’t have to answer to her. “Yes, I did. You hate them.”

She crossed her arms. “I told you to leave them.”

“They’re my lights. And I wanted to take them down.”

The coat billowed behind her as she came down the three stairs to their lounge area. “You love those lights.”

Ben stood his ground. “Not anymore.”

“Why?”

Cesar grabbed his jacket. “Yeah, I think I’m just going to go.”

Ben held up a hand. “No. Darcy was just leaving.”

“No, Darcy’s not leaving.” She turned to his best friend. “Cesar, right?”

Cesar’s eyebrows rose, the ring that pierced his right arch flipping up. “Yeah.”

“I need to talk to Ben.”

“This is my place, Darcy. You don’t get to boss anyone around here.”

She turned her attention back to Cesar. “Do you have more appointments?” That damn librarian voice came out, making his chest ache.

Cesar flipped his jacket over his shoulder. “No ma’am.”

“Would it be too much of an imposition to ask you to leave us alone?”

Cesar smiled. “Man, you are so doomed. Just marry her and get it over with.”

Ben tipped his head. Un-fucking-believable. “Traitor.”

Cesar chuckled and clomped up the steps, his shit-kickers unbuckled as usual. “Doomed! I’m telling you right now, bro.”

“Out!” they both yelled.

The door slammed on Cesar’s exit.

“You can’t come in here and act like this. You’re the one that told me to take a hike. So I did. With my lights.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little childish?”

Ben shook his head. “Practical. You should be proud, since you think I have too much fun to be serious.”

“Don’t give me that sarcastic crap, Ben Hartley. I came home tonight to a dark house. No warning, no explanations. Just—dark.”

“I left the little tree lit up.”

“Yeah, one tree, damn you. One stupid tree that looked so stupid and lonely in the middle of my dark lawn.”

He cracked his thumb knuckle. “I should have left the porch light on. I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what I mean, you idiot.” She pushed her hair out of the way. “Dammit. I’ve been getting used to the Ben Christmas that puked all over my house, and now you’re going to take it all away?”

She was too much. Only this woman would equate Christmas with puke. “Tell me how you really feel, Darc.”

“How I really feel?”

He folded his arms, digging his fingertips into his triceps. The woman was making him insane. “Yeah, actually. How you really feel.”

She took off her gloves, jammed them in her pockets and grabbed his ears, dragging him down to her mouth. The kiss was imperfect and messy and she tasted of Diet Coke. He slid his hands under her coat and gripped the soft sweater she was wearing and held on, swallowing all the frustration she let loose and giving back some of his own.

She pressed her forehead to his jaw, dragged her lips over his neck. “I miss you, Ben. I miss your laughter, I miss your smell and I miss your stupid lights.”

Dammit, she felt right in his arms. The weight of her, the way she fit, hell, even her snarky little digs at Christmas. He missed her. And now he even had pieces of her in his store. If she dropped him like a hot rock again, he was going to have to sell his freaking place. “I thought you didn’t have time for me.”

“I don’t.”

He took a step back.

She gripped his shoulders. “But I’ll make time.”

All the knots in his chest dissolved.

She hurried on, her evergreen eyes tired but shining. “It’s going to be crazy until the season ends, but I-I need you.”

“One second.” He closed his eyes. He dragged in her ocean scent and shifted his painful erection in his pants. “Home?”

“Don’t you have to work?”

“It’s a Thursday night. No clients.”

She sucked her bottom lip in, chewing until it was a bright raspberry color.

“Dammit, Darc.”

She smiled. “Show me your chair?”

“My… Oh.” He grinned, surprise and pleasure blending together. He twisted their fingers together, first drawing her up the steps to lock the door. But the light was out and the bolt was already thrown. Cesar was too smart for his own good some days.

He redirected them into his work station.

Her fingers tightened around his. “Oh wow.” She looked around in wonder. One wall was an illustrated mural of all his original designs. He liked to test it out with airbrush before inking on someone. Each design was paneled like a comic book highlighting the best of the design.

She slipped off her coat and went right to the wall, her fingertips tracing over the curves of a mermaid he’d done for a famous model last year. “Did you do this on a woman?”

He came up behind her, drawing her back against his thighs. “Yes.”

She looked over her shoulder, meeting his gaze, her mouth inches from his. “Where?”

“Her hip.”

Her blonde lashes fluttered down so he couldn’t see what was going on in her eyes. She was focused on his mouth. His dick tightened, strangling behind his zipper. “How long did it take?”

“Three sessions.”

Her gaze lifted. “How long’s a session?”

“For Amelia? It was three, four and two.”

“Hours?”

His mouth tipped up. “Takes a long time to work on someone, darlin’.”

“And you did it here?”

He shook his head. “When I worked in Boston. Though she did come in for a touchup a few months ago.”

“How does anyone deal with that much pain?”

“For Amelia it was a lot of pain actually. The hip,” he smoothed his hand over her corduroy pants, “is full of pain nerves. Even I haven’t gotten one there.” The velvety zip of the material under his palm kicked his texture lust into gear. He made a light circle on her hip and the side of her thigh.

“No.” She swished her ass against his zipper. “I found all yours.”

“Yes, you have.”

“Do you get off on the pain?”

His Darcy was certainly curious tonight. “No. You get into a sort of zone when you’re getting inked. Endorphins kick in and the pain sort of fades into a dull, hot ache.”

She nibbled on her lip again. Her eyes were dilated with interest and curiosity. “Oh.”

He drew the backs of his fingers up her ribs to tease just under her breast. “Do you want to get inked, Darcy?”

“I’m not sure.”

His eyebrow lifted. “A virgin requires a lot of care.”

“I’m no virgin, Hartley.”

“Darlin’, your skin is pure as a virgin’s. Freckles over cream. You have to be sure. It’s forever.”

“Where does it hurt least?”

“Tattoos hurt, period.”

She turned in his arms and lifted his shirt. His abs tightened as the cool air and her equally cool fingertips hit his skin. “I love your arm, but this…” She traced the trio of words that flowed together along his ribs. “I love this.” Then she traced it with her tongue.

He groaned under her touch, his nipple tightening as her nose brushed under his pec.

“I want one here. But smaller.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. A feisty grin slid across her full lips. “Do you want to pop my cherry, Ben?”

His cock throbbed. “Fuck, Darcy.” How many women had said similar things to him over the years? Too many to count. But he’d never done more than laugh after his first few years as a shop rat for his mentor.

He wanted to mark her with his ink. More than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

“You’re the only one I would trust.” She shimmied out of her sweater, leaving behind a lacy bra that had an extra panel of material between the cups.. Her toffee-colored nipples tented the cotton, showing through the lace.

“How the hell am I going to concentrate with you wearing that?”

She looked down. “It’s just a cami-bra.”

“Whatever it is,” he ducked his head and sucked a wet spot around her nipple, “I like it.”

She sifted her fingers through his hair. “You cut it.”

“I looked like a boy band reject.”

Darcy smiled down at him. “I like it.” She scraped her nails through the messy short strands along the top. “A lot.”

He stood up, drawing the tip of his finger around her nipple one last time before dropping his hand. “Do you really want to do this?”

She nodded. “Here.” She moved down an inch from the bottom of her bra along her right side. “Hope.”

“It will hurt there.” He smoothed the pad of his thumb along the top of her rib. “It’s close to bone.”

“I broke my ankle once. Anything like that kind of pain?”

He smiled. “Not even close.”

“I’ll survive.”

“Hop on the chair and lie on your side with your arm up over your head. There’s a grip bar up there if you need to grab on to something. Your tattoo artist appreciates it if it’s not his gun arm.”

She nodded, sawing at her lower lip again. “Okay.”

“You don’t have to do this, Darcy.”

“I know. I want to believe in hope again. Maybe if I see it on me every day I will.”

He leaned down. “I’ll make it beautiful.”

“I know you will.”

Chapter Nine

He moved to the thermostat and bumped the heat. She tried to calm the hummingbird that was currently trying to bust out of her chest. This wasn’t what she’d intended to do when she got in her car.

The rage that had fueled her when she saw that lonely tree in the middle of her yard with the pathetic white lights had put her back into the car so fast she didn’t even realize she was heading into the center of town. She had Ben’s work address in her contacts on her phone and somehow she’d ended up on his street.

Every night she watched the driveway instead of the neighborhood view she loved so much. All she could do was wait for his truck at night. Some nights she woke to the rumble of his engine, some nights she even caught a glimpse of him.

Work was fine. She had a million things to do to distract herself, but at night?

She’d never ached for anyone in her life.

She hated it.

And she wanted to hate him, but one look at him and she realized just how stupid she was being. Every reason she’d come up with to cut him out of her life was as flimsy as wet tissue paper.

She slid onto the modified chair. Part of it reminded her of a dentist’s chair with the hydraulics and cushioning. It smelled of lemons and the underlying burn of bleach. He took care of his studio.

No wonder he’d looked at her as if she was insane when she talked about replacing his work as an artist. Everything about the room screamed Ben. From the hauntingly beautiful artwork on the walls to the orderly work station, all of it mirrored the man she was just starting to know.

They’d rushed through the preliminaries and went right into intimacy. No wonder she couldn’t find her footing. His Christmas designs were just an extension of the artist who was as at home here as he was in her duplex.

The same touches were in his half of the house. Orderliness with an overlay of art.

She lay back, stretching her back out to find a comfortable position. Ben was silently unwrapping new needles, which he deftly slid into a pen-shaped cylinder. He hooked the end in a small square contraption that looked like two spools. The quiet snap of a rubber band made her shut her eyes against watching anymore.

Not knowing was probably better for her.

“I’m going to draw out some lettering freehand and then transfer it on your skin, outline it and shade a little bit.”

She nodded and took a steadying series of breaths.

“You don’t have to do this, Darcy.”

“I know. I want to.” She really did. She trusted Ben on this. She saw his work on the boards in the heart of his waiting room. The colors were unbelievably rich, but the underlying art was what drew her. “Just keep it small.”

When he didn’t say anything, she opened her eyes to see him hunched over the table. His fingers were flying with a mechanical pencil, then he switched off to a marker. He was done with the design in less than five minutes.

“How’s that?”

She sat up. The lettering was less than two inches wide in thin strokes of black and shades of gray. The E in hope tailed off into a star that wound into the center of the O.

“You drew that just now?”

He nodded. “Suits you.”

She leaned forward and kissed him softly. “It’s lovely.”

His dark eyes gleamed and the smile rolled her heart in her chest until there was nothing but warmth. “Let me just go get it on transfer paper.”

She lay back again and smoothed her palm against her jittering belly. She wasn’t afraid of the word, no… It was the pain she wasn’t so sure about. Surely it couldn’t be that bad.

He came back in with a small piece of paper and snapped on black latex gloves. He rolled over to her. “Let’s get you situated so I make sure this is good and straight.”

“Where do you want me?”

He grinned down at her. “Flat on your back. Just so I can line it up.”

She straightened in the seat and slowed her breathing.

He tapped and shifted the paper, taking a small spray bottle off his hip. “It will be—”

She drew in a sharp breath. “Cold?”

“Cold.” His voice gentled. “You’re doing just fine.”

“You didn’t even start with the ink yet.”

He pressed down on the paper then slowly peeled it back. “Want to see how it looks first?”

She shook her head. “I want to see it when it’s done.”

“Your skin will be really angry and red.”

“I want to see the finished product.”

“Afraid you’ll change your mind?”

She shook her head. “No, I won’t.”

He gave her a soft smile then rolled away to ready the rest of the tools of his trade. When he came back to her the gun had a small tube at the top. “The outlining really is the worst part. But I’ve been doing this for a long time, so I’ll move as quickly as I can and then we’ll see if you need a break, okay?”

She swallowed and nodded.

“Turn on your side. Good. Reach up and there you go.” Her fingers wrapped around a grip that reminded her of a bicycle handle.

“Did you do this?”

“Sometimes all you need is something to hold on to. Makes it easier to stay still.”

She nodded.

“I’ll take care of you, Darcy.”

She closed her eyes. “I know, Ben.” The high-pitched buzz made her jump.

“Easy.”

Easy for him to say. She held her breath, waiting for him to begin.

“Breathe.”

She let out a slow breath and the tip of the needle struck. Her entire body stiffened and the quick shock of pain ratcheted up to a pressure-filled burn into her skin. She slowly relaxed as he fell into a rhythm of pressure, heat and the scrape of the needle then the swipe of cool cloth.

“You okay?”

She could hear the change in his voice. It almost sounded like his voice when he’d taken her in his living room that second time. Intense, gruff and focused. She shivered lightly and felt the hot flush of blood under her cheeks as her nipples tightened.

If he noticed, he didn’t say anything.

He stretched her skin lightly and she could feel each curve of the O. She was expecting him to write on her skin, but the transfer seemed to become a form to him. The bottoms of the letters hurt the most, but that wasn’t surprising since it was the curve of her rib cage. Just skin over bone.

Finally the pressure and burn were gone and the cool paper towel soothed her skin again and again. “I’m done with the outline. Just a little bit of shading and you’ll be done.”

The serious lines of his face melted into the friendly crinkles at the corners of his eyes. She could see why he had so many pictures of happy customers in the waiting room. Ben was easy with people and his calm nature put people at ease.

“Need a break?”

She shook her head, not quite able to articulate anything around the feelings that swamped her. He was a good, kind man and she’d almost thrown away any chance with him.

All because she was too stupid and afraid to see what was in front of her.

She sucked in a deep breath as the shading needles blazed over her skin. The sharp pain of the smaller needle had felt more like tearing. This was pure heat.

“Okay, lie still, baby.”

She slowly eased back on the table, forcing her skin to press into the warm vinyl. The endorphins chased the heat and her nipples beaded again. It could have been a minute or ten minutes when he finally sat back, smoothing her skin a final time.

“You have such sensitive skin. It raised like crazy, but you barely bled.”

“That’s a good thing?”

He smiled. “Very good thing. Healing time will be quicker and less chance of scabbing over.”

She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she smiled. “Easy patient.”

He smiled. And helped her sit up. The numbing heat faded, leaving behind what felt like a sunburn. He pulled her around to the floor-to-ceiling mirror that made up the corner of his room.

She gasped. He was right, her skin was an angry pink, but the shading was delicate and the star in the center of the O in hope was a soft, mossy green.

“I took a little liberty with the color for the star. I was going to stick with purple or blue, but the green reminds me of your eyes.”

She lifted her arm and stepped closer. “It’s… I didn’t think it would be quite so beautiful.” She winced and looked at him in the mirror. “That sounded bad.”

He laughed. “No, I get it. You see ink on other people and sometimes it looks like it was done in a back alley.”

She nodded. “Lots of basement tattoos happened when I was a kid.”

“Cesar and I studied under different people, but one thing we both have in common is the art. His is a little more Miami and L.A. than mine, but we suit.”

She turned to him. “Thank you. It’s amazing. You must think I’m a complete jerk for saying you should give this up.”

“Now that’s a compliment, Darcy Tucker.”

She rose on her toes and kissed him softly, grimacing when her skin pulled.

He laughed. “Let’s get you lubed up and wrapped.”

She sat on the table and he smeared a gob of triple antibiotic ointment on her skin and ripped off a piece of Saran Wrap. “Really?”

He laughed. “Best protection ever.” He ripped off tape and stuck it to the edge of the table. “Now. I don’t usually do this, but you’re a special client.”

Darcy grinned. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

He reached around her and undid the hooks of her bra.

Her eyes widened. “That better be just for me.”

He laughed. “I can’t say I haven’t seen a lot of breasts and…other things in my career, but I don’t ever touch the clients for anything other than the needlework.”

The quick stab of jealousy surprised her. She’d never felt like that about someone in her life. Her number for relationships was laughable, but none of them had ever made her feel the least bit anxious.

He eased the straps down, gently spread a gauze pad over the wrap and taped it down. She nodded as he explained aftercare and keeping it clean, to ignore itching and keep it moisturized.

“Handy that I can give you some hands-on aftercare.”

“Oh, you think so?”

He nodded sagely. “It’s all about aftercare. And now that I don’t have to play professional artist, I can taste these.”

She let her head tip back as his hot breath hovered over her nipple before sucking one into his mouth.

“I watched them tighten when I was working on you.”

She held his head to her chest, her grip tightening on his hair. “Yeah, I was kind of embarrassed.”

He grinned up at her. “The endorphin high affects everyone differently.”

“I’m not into pain.”

He laughed and bit down, drawing her nipple away from her breast.

“Okay, maybe that part— Gosh, just like that.”

“I’m probably the only man on this earth that gets hard when I hear that word out of your mouth.”

She dragged her eyelids open. “What?”

He shook his head. “Never mind.” He nipped her other breast, dragging the flat of his tongue over her nipple. “Do you want your shirt?”

She shook her head. “I want you to take yours off.”

“Why, Darcy Tucker, are you going to violate my place of business?”

“If you have a condom I am.”

He rolled back to his worktable, opened the drawer and flashed his wallet. “I just happen to have one on me.”

“Very convenient.” She tried not to think about him being with anyone else between the time they’d made love and today. Making sure to keep her smile bright when he rolled back to her, she reached for the condom.

He frowned. “Everything okay?”

“Good thing you don’t have a parrot in here. You say that an awful lot.”

Ben wrapped his hands around hers and stopped her from ripping it open. “Something happened between here and my desk.”

“Nothing happened.”

He dragged her to the edge of the chair. “You’re the only person I want to be with, Darcy. If me saying something about other customers is bothering you…”

She shook her head. “I don’t have any right to say anything if you did.”

“Yes, you do.”

She looked up at him. “I—”

“Darcy, when I’m with you I’m with you. No one else.”

She nodded. Ben would definitely be true to any woman he was with. He wouldn’t disrespect someone like that. That much she knew.

“Then what?”

“It’s nothing.”

His hold tightened. “Obviously not.”

“It’s just…” Her shoulders slumped. “It’s too stupid to say out loud. I don’t have any right to even ask.”

He left the condom in her hand and cupped her face. “Ask.”

“Why do you have one in your wallet?”

“One—oh.” His serious face split into a grin. “I think I like jealous Darcy. You know, as long as you don’t go all made-for-TV-movie psycho or anything.”