“Anyway,” I say, lifting my head, forcing a false cheer into my voice and shoving that pathetic memory far, far away. “About this tattoo…”
My voice trails off as I meet his stare, the rapid, heavy thump of my heart replacing my voice. I try to swallow, but I got nothing. All the moisture in my mouth has evaporated under the force of his hooded, glittering scrutiny. It’s as if we’ve traveled back in time in a souped-up DeLorean, and he’s in that dim storeroom once again, a single bulb illuminating us. AndI’mclutching him, starved for him.
“What do you want?” he growls.
I blink, my voice trapped inside my throat.So much. Your mouth. Your hands. Your body. Your fire. Your rawness.
You.
“For your tattoo,” he clarifies.
The tattoo. Of course. Shaking my head as if that could dislodge those fruitless thoughts that reek of everything taboo and forbidden, I stand on trembling legs. And when I look down at him, his gaze is as impenetrable as always. God, am I so desperate that I superimposed my own lust on him and misjudged what I saw in his eyes? Disgust rolls through me, and I welcome it.He’s just not into you, my inner know-it-all whispers smugly. Yeah, I remind myself, crossing the room and picking up one of the black plastic portfolios on the glass table in front of his small couch. To Knox, I’m his younger brother’s widow. That’s it. That’s all I’ll ever be. Which meant I’d better find another outlet for this desire. Quick. Five minutes ago.
Flipping through the laminated pages, I find what I want in seconds. “Here.” I return to him, holding the opened book out to him. “This one.”
We both study the watercolor of three flowers on a vine. I know exactly zip about flowers, but they could be roses or peonies painted in soft, varying shades of pink, lavender, green, and brown. It truly resembles something Van Gogh would’ve created rather than a tattoo. From the first time I spotted the piece a year ago, I’ve wanted it. Only now, on the cusp of making changes in my life, have I dragged on my big mama drawers to get it.
“It’s yours, right?” I ask. When he nods, I trace the first, tightly furled bud. The second one is shyly halfway open, and the third is in full bloom. Spring. Life again. “It’s beautiful.”
“You should have Shana do this for you,” he states in the deep rumble that reverberates inside me like a low drum of thunder. “Watercolor is what she does.”
I know this. The other female artist is a genius when it comes to this particular style. But… “I want you.”
The three words echo between us, seeming to gain velocity and volume with each beat of silence in the room. Mortification slams into me.Jesus. His shoulders stiffen, and his big fist clenches around the edge of the portfolio, the plastic cracking in his grip. Glancing at his face, I see the harsh, sculpted lines are even more stern, more severe.
“If you’ve changed your mind—”
“No,” he cuts me off, closing the portfolio with a slap of his palm. “I said I’ll do it. I’ll do it.”
“Look, forget it. When Shana arrives, I’ll ask her to fit me in.” I head toward the door, a little hurt and a lot ready to escape this room that has suddenly become too tiny, too stifling, too hot. Feeling like a nuisance—an undesired nuisance—sucks shit. This was probably all a bad idea anyway…
Two long fingers hook into the waistband of my jeans, halting my march of humiliation.
I gasp. This is the closest I’ll ever come to having Knox’s hand in my pants, and I’m relishing the kiss of flesh to flesh, which feels more like a brand than a simple touch. Glancing down, I nearly groan. The purple, lace band of my thong rides above my jeans, and when I slide a peek at Knox, his gaze is lasered to it.
I stop breathing, watching the nostrils of his twice-broken but somehow still-elegant nose flare as he sharply inhales. Bracing myself, I expect him to snatch his hand away, but instead, he slowly slides his fingers free, stroking my skin. As if he’s savoring the caress.
Only when he turns around, giving me his broad shoulders and back, do I close my eyes and silently, deliberately exhale. Feeling like a newborn colt on shaking, gangly legs, I cross the short distance to the tattoo chair and sink onto it.
Silence permeates the room. The only sounds are the rip of the new needle package, and the open and closing of drawers as Knox grabs ink, caps, and his tattoo equipment. His hands are steady. More evidence that I’m the only one affected by this troublesome, objectionable lust.
Maybe I just need to go find someone to fuck. I spend most of my time with Knox in this shop. That could explain why this…hunger seems to be fixated on him. Shana and V have been attempting to hook me up with guys for months, but I’ve always claimed I’m not ready. But maybe I should give it a try. I mean, not only would I satisfy this need clawing at me, but it would also be with someone I’ve never called “brother.”
Win-win.
“You ready?” Knox spins to face me on his stool, his expression cool, professional. Like I’m any other client.
Fine. I can be polite, too.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Where do you want it?”
Instead of answering, I scoot farther back on the chair, which wouldn’t be out of place in a dentist’s office, recline, and lift up my shirt. “Here.” I trace the right side of my torso, several inches below my breast. “What do you think?”
Knox doesn’t answer. He hasn’t moved. He studies my bared stomach with the same, narrowed, fevered gaze I convinced myself I’d imagined moments earlier. Jesus, it’s like he’s…like he’stouchingme, licking me, devouring me with that stare. Sweat pops out on my palms. My heart slams against my chest wall, bruising it. Liquid heat pours into my sex, and I’m on fire, even as I’m drowning. My thighs quiver, and I squeeze them together to alleviate the ache.
His scrutiny drops, and damn, he didn’t miss that telltale movement. Iknowhe didn’t. Not when the sensual curves of his mouth harden, and the skin over his cheekbones seems to tauten. Embarrassment races through me. But right next to it, keeping pace, is excitement. A shameful excitement. His hooded contemplation slowly travels up my body and settles on the jeweled ring piercing my belly button.
