Tattooed On My Soul

by Lisa DeBells

  He guided me out of the lift with his fingertips firm on my lower back. The music was clear in this hallway, but it wasn’t deafening. Again he used his thumb on the security pad for clearance, and waggled his eyebrows at me again. He was such a show off. He wanted me to ask. I wouldn’t do it.

  “I won’t interrogate you. But I will admit to being mildly curious as to how your thumbprint gains access to all sorts of places.”

  His chuckle danced across the nerves that had settled in my belly the moment I laid eyes on him. Inside, the room was an office; a large black desk with a computer and three telephones, plus security items, headsets and walkie-talkies. There was a lounge and coffee table, which had a huge bowl filled to its brim with M&M’s.

  But the focal point of this room was the floor-to-ceiling glass wall that showcased the whole club; all three floors, and the deejay box. It was amazing. I walked away from Mitchell and closer to the window-wall to get a better look.

  “Can they—”

  “No, they can’t see us. The glass is double-glazed and has a reflective film on the outside. It just looks like a mirror to them.” He gestured to the patrons.

  “It’s very cool. Did you design it?”

  “I had a hand in it, yes.”

  “Is this place yours too?” Bugger not asking. “Sorry, it’s not really my business.”

  “No, it’s not. But that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.” He was smooth at deflecting, almost as good as me.

  I faced him head on. We stood about a meter apart. I threw my shoulders back and pushed my straightened hair away from my face. “OK. So shoot.”

  “What happened down there? Why didn’t you want us photographed together?” So he knew I got a little ruffled. Good, I was no longer some stupid pushover. Now I refused to let a man mould me.

  I blew out a deep breath. “I liked being photographed together Mitch, but you could have asked to kiss me instead of just taking what you wanted. I’m in the public eye; nothing I do isn’t measured.”

  He walked to the desk and placed his hands on it, his broad shoulders hunched, head hanging down. “Have I ruined tonight?” His voice strained.

  My hands itched to wrap around him from behind, I wanted to rest my cheek against his back. He was quiet and unreadable. I worried my lip between my teeth. My fingers knotted together and I felt empty. I was certain this would be where he’d tell me to fuck off. I’m drama. I’m high maintenance. Fuck, I’m probably inconsequential. There were a hundred women who would have trampled over me to have him without question.

  I watched the muscles in his back move under his shirt as he pulled in a deep shaky breath. He spun about and took the few steps that separated us. A vein throbbed in his neck and I’m not sure why he’s fuming but he’s mad. “I look at you. So prim and proper, but your body tells me a different story, Eden. All I want to do is ruin your perfect lipstick on these wicked lips.” He hooks a hand around my waist, connecting our bodies in a stormy embrace.

  He takes my lips, his mouth is rough as he shoves his tongue in my mouth lashing at my tongue and teeth, its a heated kiss, passionate and surprisingly a flare to my libido. “When I’m not touching you I know its all you crave, my rough hands and dirty mouth, filthying you up.” His voice was low, almost guttural as he spoke, confirming the fire he sets my body to.

  “That’s not all you’ve ruined.” I push on his solid pec, the outline of his nipple piercing on the palm of my hand, I’m ready to go toe-to-toe without losing my shit, but that piercing is like my personal little toy and right now I wanted to tweak it . . . hard.

  “Is that so, little angel, tell me, have I damaged you, what price must I pay for the destruction of Eden.” He wasn’t budging under my hands so I backed away instead toward the glass wall.

  I may not have been intimidated, but I sure as hell was in awe. There was no doubt about the sexual chemistry. We were like a moth to flame. What a damned destructive little moth.

  He backed me up step for step, until I felt the coolness of the glass at my back. I leaned on the window and placed my palms at my sides. Cool and calm didn’t cut it when I looked up into his furious eyes, the same ones that could see past the carefully erected wall I had built to keep my heart safe.

  “How about my reputation?” And there it was.

  Hurt flickered in his gaze, the muscle ticked in his jaw, but he never wavered in his stance. I felt the need to explain that I wasn’t embarrassed by him, just surprised.

  “You sucked my face in front of the paparazzi, Mitchell. A little warning would have sufficed.”

  “So the tattoo artist who has worked his fucking ass off to make a better life is not good enough for you. Is that what you’re saying?” He raised his voice an octave.

  “I wouldn’t care if you swept the streets. You just can’t go staking your claim, not when I’m not yours to claim, and I don’t do the boyfriend thing anymore. Shouldn’t you be happy? You’re off the hook.”

  If he was stung by my words he never showed it. “Your pre-conceived notion of me is off the charts. You know shit about me, Eden, so don’t pretend that you do.” He turned his back to me again, wearing a trail over the black-carpeted floor.

  “It didn’t come out right. That’s not what I meant. Fuck.” How could I be so senseless, to imply that he wasn’t good enough for me? “Mitchell, please. Let me explain properly.”

  He stood with his arms folded, huge biceps strained against the shirt’s material. He looked herculean. He didn’t turn around, but just uttered, “I’m listening.”

  I needed him to really hear me. I took a deep breath, hoping the extra oxygen would help me pinpoint my words correctly, because I didn’t want to make Mitchell feel like I thought I was only good for some stuffy executive with a powerful name and hefty bank balance. I knew how that scenario went. It had lived it with Anthony.

  “I’m not used to surprises. Everything I do in life happens with a plan of some kind. It’s how I operate. I do nothing last minute, and make no decision without articulate research. When I wrote myself off last weekend and you . . .” How did I put this eloquently? “Found me. Let’s just say that you were the greatest surprise I have had. I don’t live life in the moment, so when you kissed me I was thrown for a loop. Routine is what I know, Mitch. Anything other than that, well . . . we are here right now because of it.” I couldn’t be any more honest with him if I tried. I waited for him to show me the door, because I was probably more maintenance than what he was used to.

  I could tell he was mulling over my words. Had no one ever called him on his actions?

  Finally, and for what seemed like eternity, Mitchell faced me. He lifted his chin and gazed at me quietly. He stepped into my personal space. His mint-fresh breath fanned over me. It was mixed with his personal scent and I wanted to bottle it to keep on my bedside table. Placing both hands on my hips, he looked down.“You are making me do and say things I never thought I would.” His gravelly voice laced its way over my senses. If I wasn’t careful I would be putty in his hands. “I apologize . . . for not giving you fair warning. In my defense, you are irresistible.”

  His smirk played all kinds of magic with my libido. I knew I would forgive him. “Keep talking.”

  “You, in this dress . . .” He looked down to my breasts, and circled his hand around my waist, bringing our bodies closer. “Knowing how fucking sweet you taste.” He brushed his lips down my jaw and inhaled the scent at my neck.

  “Mitchell.” I didn’t have the energy to be upset, cranky, or apprehensive. I wanted him to understand and he did. Now I felt like I had to apologize for my faux pas. “I’m sorry, too. You are more than a respectable man for any woman.”

  “For you?” he asked quickly.

  “Yes, for me. Although I think you’re way too wild for me.” I played with the collar of his shirt.

  “You do, huh? I think you’re scared. You think that maybe I’m uncontrolable.” He drew small patterns on my naked back. There wasn�
�t much material to this dress. “Tell me, Eden, do you want to tame this wild beast?”

  His open-mouth kisses and low groans buzzed along my neck and jaw. I wanted to be so carefree with Mitchell. Did I want to tame him? He was as tumultuous as a thunderstorm, yet his sweet kisses and the soft caress on my back, the way he tangled my hair through his fingers, totally contradicted this. He was information overload. I wanted him to consume me. Just me.

  “I’m not looking to tame you. Maybe I want you savage and wild. Enough so that you will corrupt me a little,” I whispered sexily. Who was this goddess and where had she come from?

  “Jesus Christ, I want you.” His lips landed on mine. He took me in the brute way I was growing to depend on. Like I was air and he needed to breathe me. He licked my lips open and debauched my mouth until I was moaning and pulling his hips hard onto mine.

  He pulled away first, and I whimpered at the loss. He leaned his head to mine as our breathing slowed. “Stay with me tonight.” It wasn’t a question, more of a need.

  I couldn’t say no. Wouldn’t say no.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now let’s get this club officially opened so we can get the hell outta here.”

  “So this is your club.” I sparked up. Mitch pointed to his forehead and nodded his head in agreement. “I knew it.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Eden

  The two shots of tequila and steady flow of champagne had a loosening effect on me, I couldn’t remember felling this lighthearted in months. Or maybe it was the jagged little pill that I had swallowed earlier. The one with varying shades of wheat-blonde hair, green eyes full off mischief and a mouth that was unforgettable.

  Gia and I were dancing downstairs, the music was so loud that we didn’t bother talking. The fast beat vibrated through my chest and made me forget anything else around me. I lifted my hands above my head and pulsed them in the air. My hips automatically moved to the rhythm from side to side. I had no choice but to get my groove on.

  We attracted the attention of several men, which pushed Gia and I closer together. It’s not like we put on a show, but it was a wolf pack down here. I signaled with my hand to Gia the need for a drink, her blonde curls bobbing eagerly, as we laced hands and navigated the puzzle of people to get to a bar. We both guzzled a bottle of water each.

  Gia was eye-balling the stud behind the bar. In five seconds flat she had acquired two shots of tequila and with a smooth wink his phone number scribbled on her drink coaster.

  “You’re wicked sister, but I like your style, he's very cute.” I said nudging her as she appraised the hot bartender, he had the darkest, smoothest skin I had ever seen, with chocolate colored eyes to match.

  “Is he not the finest specimen you have ever seen? Drink.” Gia slide the shot in front of me, all the whilst giving bartender her best seductive pout.

  “G, I really need to pace myself.” I pulled the side of my mouth up and looked at the tequila dubiously. I really didn’t need this, what has commonly been referred to as a leg-opener.

  “You will be fine. The object of your infatuation is here and I doubt he’s letting you out of his sight. So bottoms up.”

  She threw the glass back delicately. Gia didn’t act at all like her innocent looks would have you believe. She was beautiful with light, curly hair, a ski jump nose that was peppered with tiny freckles, and white milky skin that would rival Cleopatra’s. Gia was a fierce lawyer with the reputation of a barracuda. In her short years after graduating the bar exam she had proved in a male-dominated law firm that she had the balls that it took to become their youngest junior partner, the first female.

  Tonight, Gia was not a lawyer, but my good friend who knew how to party. And right now she pushed the shot glass toward me again, tipping it up to my mouth until I swallowed every stinging drop. She whooped it up in the most lady-like manner and dragged me back upstairs to the rest of our friends. Hot bartender be damned.

  Mitchell had given us several entry passes to hand out so over the last few hours there was a steady stream of familiar faces to catch up with. I was having an awesome time, and anticipating my after-party. The private soiree Mitchell and myself needed only attend. Just the thought of being alone with him again had my pulse racing. My body was on fire and I’m sure the flush could be seen on my cheeks. Luckily, I could put this down to dancing like a maniac for the last hour.

  Rising above the last step into the VIP lounge, my instinct was to seek out the object of my desire, my body thrummed excitedly, waiting for the sweet relief I would feel at seeing Mitchell. I spotted my girls first, standing around at one of the many tall tables chatting animatedly to some familiar faces, some not so. I approached the table and scanned the room with a strategic eye. Black lounges littered the area along the far wall. I was trying to be inconspicuous, but there was one set of eyes that I needed to find like a heat seeking missile. I couldn’t focus on a thing the girls were talking about. I was nodding like a bobble-head, smile plastered on. I hoped I looked somewhat normal.

  Ariel studied me, her eyebrows raised and quizzical, the shift in conversation went from mediocre to zero. She leaned in toward me. “Earth to Eden, come back to me babe.” She shook my arm. There was nothing I could ever hope to hide from her. I took comfort in that though; sometimes it was easier to not say what you felt, but Ariel always did have a loosening effect on my thoughts.

  I resisted her silent question and sipped down an iced water. Partly because I needed to re-hydrate, but mostly because I wasn’t up for talking about why I was avoiding her silent question . . .

  “Ariel, if you don’t stop looking at me with that look you are going to wear the rest of your water.”

  She was as cool as the aqua sheath dress she wore to perfection, all the way down to her stilettos. Her smile threatened to overpower the concern I could see in her eyes. I loved that Ariel was so carefree. A free-spirit, she went head-first into everything; work, friends, and men, especially men.

  “You’re just pissed, because I can guess what’s going on in that clockwork brain of yours.”

  “Good, then leave it alone.” I bit back, a little tempered, I was yet to locate a pair of dazzling green eyes.

  I knew the instant we spotted each other, that the heat would be there; it was scorching just like him. He was the sexiest man I had ever seen, from his mussed-up five-different-shades-of-light hair to his angelic features that complimented his bad-boy accessories, three-day growth, tattoos, and the most wicked grin you could imagine. Even down to his always-fashionable shoes.

  I liked that he looked after his body. His fitness and health were important and it showed in his Spartan-like body. It should be illegal to have beauty and brains. He had to have flaws. Nobody was perfect. What was it that made Mitchell’s imperfection so flawless?

  That’s when it hit me; no one was that good, or fabulous in all areas of their life.

  I dreamed of what my perfect guy was, the man that had it all and wanted to share it with me. He would be successful, obviously he need to be gorgeous, and of course, treat me like fine china. I’d always had a blurred vision of what he would look like, but tonight that face was as clear to me as the glass I was drinking from.

  Laughter, loud and cat-like, grabbed my attention and made me turn toward it. The noise was annoying, yet kind of familiar, so it had my curiosity piqued.

  And fuck me but there he was, the blurred out face that wasn’t an enigma anymore. Mitchell sat at one of the long, black lounges in the middle of a sexy-girl sandwich. I blinked twice when I recognized both of the women sitting so close to Mitchell that their cleavage was bunched up on his arms.

  Minnie, that fucking bitch, was in the shortest, slinkiest, black dress, her long legs with the colorful thigh tattoos on spectacular display. I had to admit they looked amazing next to each other, him and her. I wondered again if they ever had an affair; maybe they had been an item once. They looked so comfortable. The opposite of what I felt.

&n
bsp; The other woman’s sticky hands had been on him downstairs, and she was draped over him right now. Her lips were to his ear again, probably whispering something dark and indecent. He looked slightly detached, his eyes downcast as he ripped absently at the label on his neck of beer. But I wasn’t about to give a shit that he was there, in his sandwich and not with me, maybe I’d been ridiculous to think he wanted only me.

  I felt ill. Stung. Hurt. Empty. And I was leaving. Stat.

  I turned swiftly and the fates weren’t in my favor. Mid-turn I bumped into a passing waiter, who of course, had to fuck up my escape route. I looked to Mitchell as I righted myself. Please dear God, make him not see this gigantic fumble I just caused.

  I must have had bad karma owed to me, maybe from when I forgot to wipe the machines down at the gym on the odd occasion, or that time when I forgot to pay for the bottled water I drank at the supermarket.

  Double shit on a stick. Why did he have to look so beautiful when I hated him?

  He stood as I turned on tight muscles to leave, I only caught one second of the confusion that seemed to knit his eyebrows together.

  “Ari, I’m out. Call you later.” I started to walk. Fast, toward the stairs.

  “Wait up, I’ll go with you.” I waved my hand in dismissal. I wanted to shrivel up in a ball, eating popcorn and drinking tea until I burst. Alone.

  I thought I heard my name, but with the thump of the music and the voice in my head screaming at me to run, drowned it out. My blood rushed angrily through my veins. My only thought was escape. I was sure I knew the way out, so I continued on my fast path, weaving in and out of the packed club.

  The cold air hit me and I was relieved I had made it this far without tripping or running into anyone I knew. Thank you, brand-new shoes for not only being so shit-hot sexy, but also not being ludicrously painful when one needs a quick getaway. Ah the small things. I might not have Mitchell, but I did have some kick-arse gorgeous shoes.

  They won’t keep you warm at night. Ugh, the devil on my shoulder had a shit load of opinions. That was nonsense and I would prove her incorrect.