Temporary (Indelibly Marked #2) (4 page)

He finished his sketch and sat back. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Her tone was soft, reverent.

“Do you want to see?”

“No. I trust you.” She inhaled. “You should always trust
your artist.”

“That’s true.” He took a moment to take in the side of her
breast and wanted to sink right in. “Do you want the ball?”

“I’m not holding on to the pussy ball.”

“Fair enough.” With a laugh he picked up his tattoo machine.
She was a definite product of Permanent Tattoo. Still, he decided to test her.
After all, she was a tattoo virgin. “You didn’t ask if it was going to hurt.”

“That’s because I already know it will.”

He fought the impulse to bend down and nuzzle her neck,
right in the spot that drove her wild, the little indent by her shoulder.
Everything had been going great, why did she have to change it all?

“Tell me if you need a break.”

“I will, Ivan.”

He hit the pedal on the machine. The soothing, familiar buzz
of the motor joined the pound of the music and he dipped the needles into the
ink and made the first permanent mark on her skin.

Her strength and knowledge kept her still, but the way her jaw
clenched and she’d stopped breathing let him know that although prepared, the
pain had shocked her. “Em?”

“I’m fine.” Her voice hitched at the forced words.

“Do you want me to continue?” He gripped the machine
tighter, not wanting to cause her any pain.

“Of course I do.” She swallowed. “You have to finish.”

“Take a breath.” He ran his fingers around his art. “Keep
breathing, okay?”

She grabbed the edge of the table. “Do it.”

Once more he fired up the machine. With a few seconds of
experience behind her, at the next piercing of the needles, she continued
breathing and allowed him to get into the zone.

The connection between tattooist and client was not unlike
any significant relationship, and once they got over their initial awkward
first contact, they relaxed and became one unit, working together.

They entered the magic time where the ebb and flow of the
art took over. Many tattoo receivers described entering a euphoric state while
being worked on. He’d experienced it himself, but few people spoke about the
tattoo artist. Branding someone with a unique creation produced its own high,
the way the needles hit the skin, the vibration in his hand. That day,
everything was amplified because it was Emily.

He completed his shading, added the nuance of color, and
once the image on her skin matched the one in his mind he turned off the
machine and sat back.

The music continued, but she remained silent. He gave her a
moment to come down. “Don’t you want to see?” He expected she’d jump off the
table to take a look at what she wanted and begged for since the day Shane
received his first tattoo.

“Hold on.” She didn’t move.

“Are you okay?” He pulled off the gloves and helped her get
up into a sitting position. It wasn’t unusual for people to become nauseated or
light-headed. “Do you want me to get you a mirror?”

“No.” She held up her hand and closed her eyes. “I already
know what it looks like.”

“What?” He smoothed her hair away from her face. Two tears
slithered down her cheeks. “Emily, are you okay?”

The tears continued.

“You’re crying.” His heart seizing, he leaned over. “I used
colors that will come off easier with some laser treatments if you don’t want
it.”

At last she looked at him. “How could you think I don’t want
it? I needed a change.” She pushed him away, slid off the table and walked to
the back.

Somehow he kept finding himself one step behind her.

~~*~~

A violet.

Emily rushed to the storage room with the full-length mirror
behind the door. Before she looked, she closed her eyes again. Once she became
accustomed to the heated pain, she fell into a trance-like state, and she
concentrated to picture the design Ivan created for her.

“It has to be a violet.” The violet was February’s flower,
her birth flower, and his mother’s name.

As she approached the mirror, the door opened and Ivan
stepped inside with the antiseptic and bandages to dress the tattoo. “What do
you think?”

“Am I right?” She covered her breasts with her arm.

“Are you ever going to take a peek?”

“It seemed like the first time I see it should be more than
me jumping around a tattoo studio.”

“Should we look together?” He put his tray of supplies down
on a shelf.

“Okay.” He came up behind her and she glanced up at him.
“It’s a violet.”

“Why don’t you see if you’re right?” He hit the door closed.

A perfect purple flower came into focus right on her side.
“Oh my God.” She inched closer to the mirror. Each petal was its own work of
art, unique yet unified. The purple faded and he’d even added a bit of her
signature pink. “It looks real.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what you think?” He pulled on
a fresh pair of gloves and picked up the antiseptic.

“It’s exactly what I pictured.”

“Is that good?” He kneeled down and carefully dabbed the
saturated pad on the tattoo.

She sucked in her breath at the sting. “It was almost as if
I could see it as you were doing it.”

He took his time putting the rest of the dressing on and
stood. “I pictured it a long time ago.”

“When?” She tilted her face up to him.

“Just, one night.” He shrugged.

 “After we were together?” She’d never again utter the words
making love.

He nodded.

“So it’s only for me?” Her stomach twisted and twirled, her
heart sped up.

He moved her hair off her shoulder. “What do you think?”

She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He winked at her.

“Are you going to tell me if it was only for me?” She knew
the answer but she wanted him to say the words.

He lowered his head and stared right into her eyes. “You
know it’s only for you.”

She swallowed, reminded herself to breathe. He spoke the
words she wanted. “Thank you.” Impulse took over and she brushed her lips
against his.

“You are more than welcome.” He took his chance to return
the kiss, wrapping one arm around her and opening his mouth.

At first he held back, simply toyed with her lips, denied
what she suddenly had to have. She searched out his tongue with her own. He
gave her a small taste of what she wanted, but made her work for any relief.
Desperation took over. She grabbed him and crushed her mouth to his.

At last he kissed her in the way that only he knew how, as
if he had the patent on how to make her go wild. The first time she kissed him,
she knew he was different. His taste was indefinable, but one no other man
possessed. Somehow he kissed her with enough passion and power to take over,
yet still made sure she played an active role.

With Ivan the world disappeared. Problems, worries, anxiety
all vanished leaving her safe and sexy. She let out a moan and pushed up
against him. The bulge in his jeans provided evidence of his desire and she
reached down.

He caught her hand and broke the kiss, leaned back and
tilted his head, his eyes asking for permission.

The tattoo, his restraint, and the way his eyes took her in
only stoked her arousal, extinguishing the vow she made to herself. She bit her
lip in response.

Like earlier, he raised his eyebrows, signaling what he
wanted.

She continued their silent conversation by lowering the arm
she held over her breasts.

Their dialogue ended with Ivan staring at her, putting two
fingers in his mouth then teasing her already over sensitized nipples.

Electric bliss shot through her. Once more he pulled her in
for a kiss, hard and hungry, as if their week apart had left him starving.
Careful to stay away from her bandaged art, he lifted her and backed her up
against the far wall, then set her down on a stack of boxes. He pulled his
shirt over his head, tossed it aside and instantly returned his attention to
her neck. He nibbled and kissed down her shoulders and over her chest, making
sure to pay equal attention to each of her breasts.

No matter where they were—a canyon trail, the back of a car,
one of their apartments, or the storage room of Permanent Tattoo—the man never
skimped on foreplay, but after being apart for so long, she couldn’t wait. She
squirmed on the boxes and he helped hike her skirt up and ripped her panties
away. “Ivan.” She tangled her hand in his hair, pulling him up.

“Em.” He took her face in his hands and took over her mouth
with his again, his hand traveling between her thighs, two fingers exploring
her. “I love how wet you are.”

She dug her nails into his shoulder as he touched her in all
the right places. “Make love to me, Ivan. I can’t wait.”

“I wanted you all week.” He handed her his wallet and rid
himself of his jeans.

“You did?” She flipped the wallet open and retrieved a
condom, tearing it open with her teeth.

“I always want you.” He plucked the condom from the wrapper
and sheathed himself. “I missed you.”

She hooked her legs around his hips. “I’m yours.”

“Yeah?” His lips met hers as he entered her.

“Oh.” No matter how many times they had been together, he
always filled her to her limit, and it took a moment for her body to stretch to
accommodate him.

As if he instinctually knew she was ready, he began his slow
yet powerful movements. “So good.” He lowered his face to the crook of her
neck.

“More.” In their bizarre position, she managed to twist and
contort her body imbedding him deeper.

“Yes.” He slid her legs up around his back, plunging into
her.

They found their rhythm, the boxes hitting the wall in time
to his thrusts.

He drove into her, kissed her, caressed every inch of her,
hell, the man had even marked her for life. Everything was more intense,
focused and meaningful, and those thoughts combined with his attention pushed
her toward her edge. The pressure built. “Oh God, Ivan.”

“You there?” He panted.

She held him tighter and bucked her hips to him. “A little
more.”

“Let me feel you.” He kissed her, his tongue matching his
movements. “I love it when you come.”

Her whole body tensed, focused on Ivan and the joyous
friction he created within her. She inched closer, closer. Her climax taunted
her, stayed right out of reach. “Please!”

“You’re there.” He spoke into her open mouth and gave her a
final thrust. “Now.”

She let go, propelled into those glorious, one-of-a-kind
pulses. “Ah!”

“Yes,” he hissed out the word, ground his body against her
and braced against the wall behind her, pressing his face to hers. “Oh, Em.”

Immersed in dissipating quivers, she put her hand on the
back of his neck and closed her eyes as their breathing slowed.

“I meant to ask you something.” He kissed a trail down her
jaw line.

In a haze, she ran through the possibilities. The connection
between them stronger than ever, she sensed his question as she sensed by his
attention, that he would want to make love again. He wanted to ask if they
should move forward, decide on one apartment and stop sneaking around. She
wasn’t a baby, she was a woman, one he had to have. A week apart was too long and
he didn’t want to be separated from her. “Okay.” She stopped short of saying
yes.

“Did you feel the rush?” He turned to take care of the
condom and returned to her.

“I definitely felt it.” She waited for him to continue.

He let out a chuckle and gathered her back up in his arms.
“I meant after the tattoo.”

“Oh.” His words had to be leading somewhere else. “I feel
like I can do anything.”

He cupped her breast.

“Things are different now.” She prodded him forward.

“Yes they are, you are now part of an elite group.” He
kissed her lips and dipped his head down to her breast. “You didn’t even need a
break, you were epic.”

“Maybe we can finally do this.” She tilted his face up to
hers giving him a light kiss.

“There’s more.” He smiled. “I didn’t want to tell you until
I was sure, but there’s more.”

“Well now with things different, let me in on the secret,”
she said then held her breath.

“It’s a whole side piece.”

She exhaled and rewound what he said. “Side piece?”

He tickled his finger from under her bandage all the way
down her side to the waist of her skirt. “Yes, and now with things back to
normal between us, we can continue.”

Before the rock in her throat landed in the pit of her
stomach, she tried once more. “Back to normal…but different, right?”

“Well with us having to run the show around here, things are
different, but once the baby’s born, things will even out again.” He reached
over to his wallet, found another condom and held it up between two fingers.
“God, I missed you.”

The rock plummeted, boring a hole through her middle. One
day she would be smart enough to learn.

He leaned in to kiss her but before he could cloud her mind
again, Emily found her strength, slapped the condom out of his hand, and pushed
him back. The force of her sudden movement toppled the boxes and they both fell
with Ivan landing on top of her.

“Oh no.” The sting in her side radiated through her body and
she pressed her hand over the bandage.

“Are you okay?” He laid his hand over hers. “If you wanted
to change positions you should have just said something.”

Once able to take a full breath, she glanced up at him. “I
want to change a lot of things.” How did the old saying go? Two steps forward
three steps back. In her case it was three miles back. “I need to go.”

“Do we need a change of venue?” He stood and helped her up.

She covered her breasts. “I need the change of venue. You
need to stay in whatever happy place you created for yourself.”