by Jess Bryant
No, he wasn’t screwed. He turned to look at her and barely contained a possessive growl. He was fucked.
Her shiny blonde hair was down around her shoulders in loose waves. Her suntanned skin and big blue eyes already gave her a beautiful summer girl appearance but her outfit was what caught his attention. She wasn’t in her skin-tight blue jeans and heels today. Instead she was wearing a simple white sundress that left an obscene amount of skin on display. So much skin and so many tattoos, all of them put there on her pretty, flawless skin by him.
The flowing white dress should have made her look like the angel he’d always seen her as but it didn’t. It was too short for that. There was nothing innocent about the skimpy dress that left her shoulders all but bare and ended well above her knees. The nearly sheer material made his eyes latch to her breasts, to the vee of her legs, made him wonder distinctly unangelic things like whether or not she was wearing panties. That dress was a goddamned invitation and pissed him off royally.
It was completely inappropriate. The tattoo he was inking would wrap around her upper thigh. She could have worn shorts and given him plenty of access but no, she hadn’t gone that route.
Instead she’d decided to wear a short, flimsy skirt that he would have to push up out of the way and pretend that he hadn’t imagined sliding his hands beneath her skirts a hundred times. He would have to kneel between her spread legs knowing that if he moved his hand just right he could find out exactly what was, or wasn’t, beneath that dress. He would be inches from heaven knowing full well every time she squirmed or moaned or `bit her lip that she was getting wet from the pain his needles inflicted.
It would drive him mad. Drive him out of his mind. It would be torture, plain and simple, and for the first time in their friendship, he contemplated throwing in the towel. Calling it quits. Admitting that being near her and not being able to touch her was downright masochistic and that his good intentions were destined to fail. He should send her away for good and put them both out of their misery.
“Hey.” Skylar grinned as she moved towards him and he fought the urge to snap at her, instead choosing to remain quiet as he attempted to pull himself back together.
He bit his tongue to keep from snarling at her. He wanted to ask her what the hell she was thinking coming into his shop dressed like that. She should know better. But the fact that she did know better stopped him, because despite most of his blood supply leaving his brain he processed enough to realize that she was playing with him.
She knew he wanted her. She’d put it together and she was baiting him. Just like last night with those pictures that she never should have taken let alone sent. It only made him angrier. She had no right. She had a boyfriend. It didn’t matter what he wanted. He couldn’t have her. Whatever she was up to, whatever game she was playing, it had to stop.
“Oh---kay.” She drawled the word when he didn’t say anything, “You playing the quiet game or something? Cat got your tongue? Taken a vow of silence I should know about?”
Despite himself, his lips twitched and she grinned. She always had that effect on him. She might piss him off but she also made him smile.
No, he wasn’t going to send her away. He knew he wasn’t. He’d spent weeks without her when she was giving him the cold shoulder and he’d hated every second of it. He could deal with his conflicting needs to protect her from letting him hurt her in any way and spanking her ass for leading him on.
He cleared his throat and tried to remember what he would say if he wasn’t thinking about getting her naked, “You’re late.”
“Uh, yeah… I’m Skylar. We’ve met right? You like to say I’ll be late to my own funeral. I figured you told me to be here a half hour early just so I’d show on time.”
She was in a good mood. He tried and failed to keep his scowl in place. Skylar in a good mood was contagious. She practically floated through the shop, all blonde hair and big blue eyes. Her lips were painted pink today, cotton candy pink. It might have seemed innocent on another woman. On her, it just made him want to take a big, juicy bite.
“Your appointment started ten minutes ago.” He turned away from her, straightening his already perfectly straight row of ink. “Get in the chair so we can get started.”
She huffed behind him, “It’s gonna be like that?”
“Yeah, it’s gonna be like that. This is my business, Skylar. You like it when your customers come walking in late to their appointments and throw your schedule off?”
“No. You’re right.” Her perky voice dropped and she sighed, “Sorry I’m late. Let’s get started.”
He was a bastard for ruining her good mood. He hated himself for it. Still, he marveled at her ability to apologize on the spot like that. She’d been wrong and she’d admitted it, immediately. No hedging or making excuses. If it had ever been that easy for him, he didn’t remember it.
He was a Bomar so the lying and fighting came naturally. Honesty didn’t. Maybe that was why he found that part of Skylar so alluring. She didn’t hide anything about herself. And hell, who was he kidding, certainly not himself, he found every part of her sexy as hell.
Only once he was certain he had himself under control did he turn back to face her, “You sure you want to do this today?”
When she didn’t speak up, he let his gaze find hers. Blue eyes clashing, he saw a hundred things there he didn’t want to see. She didn’t hide anything from him. All of her conflicting emotions matched his own. He glanced away when she gave a short nod and he forced himself to focus on his work.
The tattoo was the important part right now. It was the thing he could control. It was the thing he was good at. He would have to focus because he refused to put anything but perfection on the body he adored. It would be perfect and that meant his hands had to be steady. His breathing and his mind would just have to fall in line.
“I went ahead and drew it out on the transfer. You can take a look if you want, make sure it matches what I gave you yesterday or make any changes.”
“No need. I trust you.” Skylar shook her head.
He forced a calming breath and nodded, “Okay then, let’s get started. Pull your dress up and show me where you want it. Right leg or left?”
Skylar scrunched the material beneath her fists and edged it up, “It’s up to you.”
“No. It’s your body. It’s your tattoo. Make the decision. Now.”
She frowned at him when he snapped at her but he never looked up. He didn’t have to. He knew her well enough to know she was glaring at him. He kept his gaze on the scrap of fabric that revealed more and more of her smooth skin. He couldn’t have looked away if someone had busted into the shop screaming fire at that exact moment.
“Left leg.” Her voice was soft, barely a whisper, “It’s the same side as the shoulder piece and it’ll look like a set with the lace and roses. Is that how you imagined it?”
“Yeah.” He choked out.
“Is this high enough?”
It was an innocent question but he had to bite his tongue and simply nod. He didn’t trust himself to speak again right now. His voice was going to give him away. He couldn’t keep the raging desire under control if he kept talking to her as she all but flashed him with a scrap of barely there, white lace panties.
Thank God she was wearing panties.
Without another word, he set to work. He forced himself to go somewhere else in his mind. He didn’t look up at her. If he didn’t look at her, he might be able to convince himself that it wasn’t Skylar in his chair. It was just another client, any client. He might be able to get through this without completely losing his goddamned mind if he could distance himself from her.
But it was useless and he knew it the moment he touched the first needle to her skin. It wasn’t just his hands on her body that did it. The feel of her smooth skin under his rough fingertips. It went so far beyond that. The electrical charge that lit the air between them had sparked the moment she walked in the door but it went up in
flames when he put the needle on her.
Skylar moaned with every prick of the needle and he had to grit his teeth and take a deep breath as a dozen dirty images roared to life inside of him. Her legs were spread. Only a scrap of material separated him from her warm, wet heat. And she was reacting as though the longer he worked the closer she soared towards the edge.
He’d known this would happen. It always happened. But what could he do? Tell her no, that he couldn’t tattoo her anymore? Fuck that. She’d go elsewhere and nobody else was going to get the pleasure of marking her body but him. Nobody else should ever get the pleasure of seeing her react like this but him.
Colt continued his work, gritting his teeth, trying not to look at her. He knew if he did, it would all be over. If he looked up and saw her beautiful face clouded with pleasure, he’d break. He felt like glass that was barely holding against the pressure. Cracks were forming with each line he put on her skin, each moan and sigh, and if he looked at her he would shatter.
Every time she came in for a tattoo, he held his breath. Every time he secretly hoped that she wouldn’t react all the while praying that she would. Every time her reactions only made him want her more, made a little more of his restraint crumble. Every tattoo, every needle against her skin, brought them closer and this one, this special, intimate tattoo that was, in a way, his apology for pushing her away threatened that he might never be able to push her away again.
He wiped away the excess after finishing the outline and leaned forward to get a better look. It was a mistake. He knew it the second he did it. Because as soon as his cool breath hit her heated skin, Skylar let out a loud moan and arched up into his touch.
He glanced up and his hands automatically tightened on her. Just as he’d suspected, the sight of her like this sent him tumbling over the edge. She was so beautiful but like this, it was painful to look at her. Her lips were swollen from where she’d been biting into them and a flush of pink colored her cheeks. She looked like she was about to tumble right off the cliff with him.
He had to force himself to speak and even so, it sounded strangled, “Skylar?”
“Hmm?” She didn’t open her eyes but the warmth of pleasure in her voice made his raging erection twitch in his pants.
“You gotta be still angel.”
Her eyelids drifted open slowly, hazy blue orbs clearing as they met his. He watched, fascinated, unable to look away as her little pink tongue darted out to lick her lips. He swallowed a groan when the corner of her mouth tipped up into a knowing smile.
“You called me angel again.”
Fuck. He swallowed a curse. He had. Again. And of course this time, here, in his tattoo studio, he could see the realization of what it meant sink in and the cloudy look faded from her eyes.
“You called me that the other night, when you took care of me.” Her eyes left his, falling down to his arm and he tensed as her expression softened, “I didn’t get it then… I’m still not sure I get it.”
She stared straight at the tattoo taking up the majority of his left arm. The one that was proof of what he’d been denying for so damn long it felt like acknowledging it might be impossible. The angel inked on his skin, the one wrapped around a dark figure just above the pits of hell… it was her.
The angel was lithe and graceful, drawn to look as if she was in motion. Blond hair streaming behind her, big blue eyes wide, a slinky white dress billowing all around white gold wings. The dark figure she clung to was less identifiable, just a shadowy mess of a man that made it impossible to tell whether he was dragging her down to hell with him or if she was pulling him up and out of the pit towards heaven.
He had drawn it himself. Inked what he could of it too and trusted his mentor to finish his work. But he’d never told anyone that the angel was based on a real person and nobody had ever put it together. Not even Cash. But when Skylar reached out and traced her fingers over the line of a wing, he knew that pretending it wasn’t his twisted version of them was completely out of the question.
His lie was over. No more hiding. No more denying. She was his angel but he still didn’t know if that meant she could save him or if he was destined to drag her down with him.
“You called me angel.” She repeated softly.
“Yeah, I did.” He put steel into his voice and met her eyes, all but daring her to argue, but of course that didn’t faze Skylar, it never had, and if it did, he wouldn’t be so damn crazy about her.
“I’m not an angel, Colt.”
“You’re…”
“No. Listen to me.” She tightened her grip on his arm, “I’m no angel. I’m a flesh and blood woman. I’m a woman and I have wants and needs and desires. I want you. I need you.”
He struggled with his own needs and desires. He wanted her too but he needed to push her away. Only, this time, he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
He wasn’t a good man. He couldn’t tell her that she’d be better off if they stopped here, now, and forgot about this conversation, about this tiny moment in time when they’d almost crossed the line. He couldn’t. All he could do was throw up the roadblock that just might save her from him.
“You have a boyfriend.”
“No.” She shook her head, “I don’t. We broke up last night. It’s you I want. It’s always been you.”
He broke. All of his other reasons for pushing her away faltered. Every one of his excuses withered. The final strand of his self-control snapped.
For a split second he stood there, staring at her as if he’d never seen her before and then, in the next, he was crushing her lips beneath his. Taking her mouth. Owning it. Making it his. And God, nothing had ever felt so right in his life as when Skylar wrapped herself around him and kissed him back.
He was kissing her. Finally! Colt was kissing her and oh sweet lord have mercy, he was kissing the hell out of her.
Skylar wrapped her arms around him, trying to pull him closer, refusing to allow even an inch of space between them. His heavy weight settled against her and she moaned at the exquisite feel of him. Her entire body felt like it was going up in flames, every nerve ending snapping as the sensation of kissing Colt Bomar overwhelmed her.
No, he didn’t just kiss her. He conquered her. Dominated her. Branded her as surely as any tattoo he’d ever put on her skin. He was as good as writing his name across her lips and claiming her with this kiss.
Her eyes slid shut as she drowned in him. There were too many sensations to catalog. The feel of his hot, demanding mouth against hers. That strong, masculine scent of his overwhelmed her. His tongue didn’t tease, it demanded entry and when she gave it to him, opened for him, he plundered. He took what he wanted and gave her back everything that she needed.
Skylar moaned when he wrapped one of his fists in her hair and tugged, hard. He fisted the strands and tilted her head back, allowing him complete access to her mouth. Colt kissed her like a madman and she was helpless to do anything but respond.
Need crashed through her system and she squirmed, needing more, needing closer. Her hips tilted up, trying to find him, and they both groaned when his hard length pressed against her core. Her hands scrambled trying to find a way beneath his clothes. There were still too many barriers between them and she needed them gone, wiped away as swiftly as all the others.
His other hand slid down her body, bypassing her breasts and she rocked into his touch. She wanted to rip her dress off and demand he touch every inch of her. Having his hands on her was heaven. But he was so big, so strong and controlling that she was powerless to do much else than kiss him back and hold on for the ride. His big palm curved around her hip as she ground against his erection and then he gripped her, tight, holding her hips down on the chair.
Colt was panting when he tore his mouth from hers. She was sure she was too but she couldn’t hear for the blood pounding in her ears. His lips slid across her jaw, his tongue dragging across the sensitive skin of her neck he’d exposed by pinning her in place. She bit into her lip to st
ifle a moan when he nipped at her earlobe.
“You keep rubbin’ against me like that and I’m gonna fuck you in this chair.” His voice was dark, threatening, and made her panties even wetter, “That’s what you wanted right? Coming in here dressed like this. You weren’t asking for it. You were beggin’.”
He pulled back enough to look at her and all of the wild heat of only a moment ago chilled inside of her. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting to see on his handsome face after a kiss like that but it wasn’t the turmoil roiling in his expressive blue eyes. He was breathing hard, clearly trying to regain control, and she didn’t know whether to let him have a moment to collect himself or to push him past whatever self-imposed barrier had stopped him.
“Colt, I…”
She didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence, her thought, or even to decide. A bell rang somewhere in the distance and it might as well have been a shot going off. Colt jolted as though he’d been physically knocked back. All of the air rushed out of him in one gust and his eyes flickered over her, horror dawning on his face a moment before his lids slammed shut and he stumbled away from her.
“Cover up. Now!” He growled.
Skylar blinked as her entire world shifted again but nothing went back in its right place that easily after being blown apart. Dimly, she was aware that there were hard footsteps on the concrete floor heading their direction. Someone had come into the shop and Colt was reacting to the interruption.
She looked down at her dress and groaned. It was hiked up around her waist so she smoothed it out as best she could and pulled her legs shut. But no matter what intruder walked in on them she had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that said Colt’s reaction wasn’t about securing her modesty.
She watched him with wary eyes. He’d flipped his back to her but she didn’t need to see his face to know that he was past turmoil into full on destruction mode. His back rose and fell in heavy pants as he sucked in air. He’d gripped the edges of the counter on the other side of the small stall and his knuckles were white. He was trying to hold on but he should have been holding onto her.