by Cathryn Fox
“Hey,” he says, but the light in his eyes is a bit dimmer tonight.
I close the door and step up to him. I put my hand on his chest, feel his racing heart. “Jamie, about earlier. My father—”
He shakes his head, and his big, warm hand closes over mine. “It’s fine, Kylee,” he says. “I know your father is controlling, and you don’t have to worry. He’ll never know about us.”
I open my mouth to say more, but what can I say? We both clearly want to keep our affair a secret, for our own personal reasons—his I still don’t know—but that doesn’t change the fact that I feel a little hollowed-out inside, or that I might want so much more from a man not willing to give it. How could we possibly make a life together anyway? My father aside, Jamie lives here in Blue Bay with secrets he keeps close, and my life, and a future my father is pushing down my throat, is waiting for me in Atlanta. I pinch my lips shut and look at the roller in his hand.
“Want some help?”
He steps back, gazes the length of me. “You’re hardly dressed for painting.”
I take in his T-shirt and jeans. “Neither are you, really. You could ruin your clothes just as well as I could.”
“It doesn’t matter if I get paint on these old things, but you’re in a dress, one you made. It has value, and I’d hate myself if you ruined it after all the hard work you put into making it.”
My heart thumps at his sweetness. “Well then, I guess there’s only one way to rectify that.”
“What might that be?”
“I could paint naked.”
A huge smile spreads across his face, and in that instant, I relax. I might have hurt him earlier tonight, but I know we’re going to be okay, at least for the rest of the summer. When I leave, however . . .
“Really?”
“Sure.” I reach for the hem of my dress, and rub the material through my fingers. “If you’ll get naked too.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kylee, if we get naked, I’ll never get this painting done.”
“Sure we will. Painting is boring, and this will help liven it up, don’t you think?”
“Oh I think it’s going to liven it up all right. And by it, I mean my cock.”
I laugh, and the sweetest, softest smile tugs at his mouth as he angles his head and watches me, like he loves the sounds I’m making.
“Deal?” I ask and hold my hand out to his for a shake.
He takes my hand in his and his warmth seeps under my skin. “You really want to help?”
“I do.”
“Okay.” He steps up to the windows and draws the blinds. “But I don’t want anyone but me looking at your body.”
His protectiveness warms my heart. “Sweet boy.”
He winks at me and bumps the temperature, another caring, protective gesture. “Sweet boy? Haven’t we been over that?”
“Strip,” I say, and point a finger at him.
We both take our clothes off, and I admire his body as he sheds his pants and top in record time. We drape our things over the tattoo chair and Jamie covers it with a cloth to keep our clothes from getting destroyed. He’s pretty damn erect when he turns back to me, and I can’t take my eyes off his cock.
I try to appear unaffected, bored even, despite the fact that the needy juncture between my legs is begging me to jump him. “You’d better rein that in,” I say and gesture with a nod toward his erection. “Otherwise it could get in the way.”
A deep, tortured sound catches in his throat. “Like I have any control over my dick when the most beautiful girl in the world is standing before me completely naked.” He scrubs his chin and looks like he’s in total agony. “Believe me, little Jamie is not going down anytime soon.”
He thinks I’m the most beautiful girl in the world?
“Little Jamie is not so little right now,” I say and tap my chin, like I’m deep in thought, even though my brain is buzzing and my body is practically convulsing with need. “Maybe we could put him to use.”
Heat moves into his eyes as his gaze roams my body. My nipples tighten under his hot, appreciative stare. “Yeah?” he asks as his cock grows another inch. “I know plenty of ways we could do that.”
“What I’m thinking is, we stick a roller on the end. Double your efforts, and get this done twice as fast.”
He glares at me, but I see the humor in the depths of his gorgeous green eyes. “The only thing I want on the end of my cock is your smart-ass mouth.”
“That can be arranged,” I say and take in the desire reflecting in his eyes. “After we paint. This is important to you, so it’s important to me too.”
He looks at me like he wants to say something, and I can only hope the words that come out of his mouth next are, “You’re important to me.” Instead he hands me a roller and points to the wall behind him.
“Maybe you should start on that wall, where I can’t see you.”
“No, I want to see you.” I dip my roller into the paint, and walk up to the wall he’d been working on. “This is a nice shade of gray. I like it.”
“Thanks,” he says, his voice tight, his muscles clenching as he steps to the other end of the wall, away from me. I grin, secretly liking that I can do this to him.
When an old song comes on the radio, I begin to hum. After a minute I look at Jamie, see the way he’s staring at me. “What?” I ask.
“You’re humming,” he says through gritted teeth. “This is enough torture as it is, and you know what your humming does to me.”
“Oh,” I say. “Oops, sorry.” I reload my roller and continue painting. We work in silence for a while, and I consider Jamie’s chosen profession. What is it about ink that he loves so much?
“Why tattooing?” I ask, breaking the quiet. I glance at Jamie, who is studying me too closely, too intensely. My fingers tighten on the roller handle. How long has he been watching me?
“Truthfully?” he asks, a new seriousness about him.
“Yes,” I say, wanting him to open up, tell me more about himself.
“I’ve always loved drawing.” He runs the roller along the wall, then stands back to examine his progress. “I used to drive my teachers crazy with all the doodling I did in class.” A smile curls up the corners of his mouth, like the memory takes him back to a happy place. “I thought I’d be a cartoonist or a famous painter when I grew up.” He goes quiet for a moment, then angles his head to see me. “I’ve never told anyone that before. I never wanted it to get back to my father, I guess. He was hard enough on me for being a dreamer.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a dreamer, Jamie.”
He shrugs. “Dreams don’t pay the bills.” He shakes his head. “That’s what Dad used to say.”
“I know all about that.”
He nods. “I know you do.” He reloads his roller and starts to paint again, and I wait patiently for him to continue with his story. “When I was about twelve, my mom took me to the orthodontist in Hope Falls.” He flashes perfect white teeth in a smile. “Braces. Anyway, we walked by this tattoo shop, and I was fascinated by the art displayed in the windows. Right then and there I knew what I wanted to do.”
“You’re very brave, Jamie.”
His head rears back. “Brave? How am I brave?”
I shrug and reload my roller. “You found your passion and didn’t let anyone or anything deter you from pursuing it.” Sadness moves into his eyes as he looks at me. “Your artwork is beautiful. You have a rare talent, and I’m so glad you’re doing something with it,” I say.
“See, it’s more than just artwork to me. It’s a way of expressing myself, a way for others to express themselves.” He stops painting and grabs his sketchbook. “These designs, they all mean something to me.” The passion in his voice, his childlike enthusiasm as he explains his art, wrap around my heart and squeeze. I love seeing him like this.
He sits in a chair and opens the book on his lap. “I can’t even explain what it does to me when someone comes into
my shop and asks me to design something special for them, something that has a deeper meaning. They put that kind of trust in me.”
I set my roller beside his, grab one of the vinyl chairs, and set it across from him. I sit and our knees bump. “Can I see?”
“Sure.” He turns the book on his lap and as I look at the designs, he continues. “People get tattoos for lots of reasons, and when I can give them ink that holds a deeper meaning, and it touches them on another level, well . . . I can’t even explain what that does to me.” He exhales and shakes his head as he runs his hands through his hair.
I swallow and practically vibrate as I absorb his passionate energy. “These are so beautiful, Jamie,” I say and flip through the pages. “If your father could have seen these, seen how passionate you are about your work, I think he would have been so proud of you. I’m sad that he didn’t understand this side of you.”
He shrugs, but I see the pain etched on his face. With exquisite gentleness, he brushes my hair from my shoulders, exposing my naked breasts. “If you were to ever get one, what would you like?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I have no idea. What do most girls get?”
“Everyone gets something different.” He runs his hand along my arm, and I look at him, unable to believe I’m having this deep, meaningful conversation with Jamie as we paint his shop bare naked. Did life get any better than this?
I close the book on my lap, and he sets it on the counter beside him. “If you were to design one for me, what would it be?”
“That’s easy. I’d give you the Viking symbol.” His hand slides between my legs and spreads them. “Right here, where it could be our little secret.”
“What’s the Viking symbol?” He reaches for his pen, and draws two Vs on his hand, one on top of the other. “What does it mean?” I ask as I trace it with my finger.
He cups my chin. “It means create your own reality.” I look down and think about that. I’m not brave like Jamie. I never stood up to my father and instead let him pull my strings and lead me around like I was a marionette and he was the puppet master. It generates a deep sadness inside me.
“Kylee,” Jamie says, his voice softer, lower.
“Yeah.”
“I know it’s not my business, but the clothes you design are beautiful and have value.”
I swallow. There is nothing mocking in his tone—like I’m used to from my father—and it’s oddly sweet how he shows such interest in my designs.
“I just . . . I know you’ll be a great lawyer, but I hate to see you stifle your passion. I see how happy you are when you’re creating, and your clothes would sell like this.” He snaps his fingers and my heart wobbles, his compliment meaning more to me than he’d ever know.
“Thank you,” I say and lean into him. His lips caress mine, and he pulls me onto his lap. We sit together, completely naked, like we’ve done this a million times before. It’s a bit insane how quickly we’ve grown so comfortable with each other.
“I need to tell you something, and I don’t want you to get upset.”
I go still. Am I finally going to find out why he wants to keep us a secret? “Okay,” I say.
“I went in to Indigo Blue Boutique today.”
I crinkle my nose. “Why? You don’t strike me as the kind of guy to walk into a specialty store like that. They sell high-end clothes and stock lots of lingerie.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” he says, and scrubs his chin, like the incident will haunt him forever. “But I wanted to talk to the manager.” I go quiet, my heart thumping a little louder as understanding dawns. “She takes clothes on consignment. I thought—”
“You thought I could put some of my designs in her shop.”
“You’ve been making so much, you have a huge inventory.”
Little did he know what I was doing with those clothes, though. “You shouldn’t have done that, Jamie,” I say, even though I’m completely touched by the gesture. My whole life my father made decisions for me. Now Jamie thinks he can dictate where I should sell my clothes. But he’s doing it for a whole other reason, and I’m deeply moved by the gesture. In fact, I feel an unfamiliar fullness in my chest, right around the vicinity of my heart.
“I know. I overstepped boundaries.” He takes my hand and kisses my fingers, one at a time. “Are you mad?”
“Yeah, I’m mad,” I say, but I’m not. How could I stay mad at a man who shows such interest in my hobby?
“Maybe I can make it up to you.” He runs his hands along my shoulders, and shivery goose bumps form in their wake.
“Just how do you plan to do that?” I ask as sexual energy arcs between us.
His dirty, sexy grin returns. “I could put my cock inside you.”
“I thought you needed to get the painting done,” I say, my body aching for him to do just that and more.
He moves his hips and his hard cock presses against the seam along my ass. I bite my lip to keep myself from groaning. “I’ve had the hard-on of the century for the last half hour. I’m sure this will be quick.”
I squirm on his lap and throw one leg around his until I’m straddling his thighs, his long hard length now pressing against my sex. I wiggle, and the pressure on my clit is so deliciously delightful I nearly come. He lifts me, and I reach between us to position his hard cock at my entrance. He lowers me onto him, and I expel a heavy breath as he enters me. I love the way he feels inside me. How the hell am I ever going to go on after I leave this place—leave this man?
“You feel so good,” he murmurs and takes one of my nipples into his mouth. His hands span my waist and he lifts me up and down effortlessly. I’m so wet his cock slides in and out easily, and my breathing changes, becomes harsher.
“So good,” I agree, and arch into him as he nibbles on my pebbled nub. I run my hands through his hair as he rocks into me, his groans curling around me and seeping under my skin. We move together, our bodies so in tune with each other. A storm builds inside me as I ride him and with deep, explicit strokes that take me to amazing places, I moan softly against his ear. He groans, and I grip the top of the chair behind him and gyrate on his cock, taking him deeper inside my body, wanting to keep him there forever.
“Jamie,” I whisper.
“Yeah.”
“I want a tattoo. I want to be your first client when we get this place open.”
“We?”
“Yes, I want to help you. I have some ideas.” I inch back to see him. “Unless you don’t want my help”
“Of course I want your help.” His fingers bite into my skin. “But I have to tell you. There is no blood left in my brain, so I’d pretty much agree to anything right now.”
“Well then, how about you—” I begin but he cups the back of my neck and brings my mouth to his.
“I don’t have to be lust-drunk to give you what you want, Kylee. Ask me for anything, and it’s yours.”
My heart takes a tumble. Anything. Oh, if he only knew what was rattling around inside my brain, how much I want to ask for his heart. Honest to God, the plan was to have an affair with the hot carpenter and for once in my life do something just for me. Little did I think I’d fall for him, and his family, and even the damn dog. But I did, and that was just stupid of me.
“You okay?” he asks, and runs his lips over my neck.
I really love the way he always checks in with me. “Yeah, why?” I fib, sure I’m never going to be okay again.
“You went quiet. Were you thinking about what you might want to ask me for?” he queries as he moves his hips and powers into me. I rake my nails over his flesh, drag skin, as heat flares through me. I’m so close but I don’t want to come just yet. I want more, everything, from this man.
“Yes. I want you to take me, Jamie. Everywhere, like you talked about.”
He goes still, and his eyes meet mine. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” I say. “I need to feel you inside me. Everywhere.”
“I need that too,” he says and his hands
move urgently over my body. “But I would never do anything to your body you’re not ready for. You put your trust in my hands, and that’s not something I take lightly. I’m not saying I won’t do it, it just won’t be tonight, here at the shop.” He kisses my throat and his breath whispers over my body. “I want you home in your bed, where you’ll be completely comfortable.”
My heart nearly explodes in my chest, and tears prick my eyes as I tremble with all the things I feel for him.
He slides his fingers between my legs, and the second he brushes my clit I come all over him. I rock my hips and ride out the waves as they continue to crash over me, each one harder than the last, until I’m a quivering mess on his lap.
“Jamie,” I murmur and press my lips to his.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Kylee,” he says as I drip over his cock. He holds me tighter and releases inside me. His deep growl curls around me and brings a smile to my face. I love reducing this big bad tattoo artist to a hot mess.
We hold each other for a long time, then he cups my shoulders and inches back to see me. His gaze moves over my face, and he cups my cheek. “You good?” he asks.
“I am,” I say my heart ready to rupture. “You?”
He nods. “You know . . .” he begins.
“Know what?”
“If you’re going to help me paint this place, I’m going to need you in a big-ass pair of coveralls.”
I laugh and he chuckles with me. “I’ll pick us each up a pair tomorrow,” I say.
“Then again,” he murmurs, as his lips close over mine, “I still don’t think that’s going to stop me from wanting to ravage you.”
Chapter Thirteen: Jamie