Rose (Thorn Tattoo Studio Book 1)

by Leslie North

  “This is your first tattoo, Mrs. DeRose, and I want it to be special and a surprise. Trust me.”

  Riley snorted. “Just be glad I’m letting you put one on me at all. Now, why all the damn secrecy?”

  Placing his hand on the small of her back, he pushed her back over so she was reclining on her side again. He gripped her thigh, repositioning her the way she was before she’d turned her head. “Wife, if you keep fidgeting, my hand might slip and I’ve no desire to mar this beautiful skin of yours. So, be still!”

  With a grumble, Riley stayed in position and Giovanni pressed the pedal on the tattoo machine to get back to work.

  He needed the line work to be perfect. This was his wife and everything about her needed to be as perfect as she was. Given how much she loved tattoos, he couldn’t believe that she had waited this long to get one.

  At the show in Dublin, Riley had admitted that she did want one but wasn’t sure how her family would handle it given how adamant her father had been when he’d found out she’d been working in a tattoo shop in college. Thankfully, her grandparents had been nothing like her description of her father and had been incredibly welcoming.

  When they’d found out that Giovanni was the reason their granddaughter was standing on their doorstep, they’d immediately treated him as one of the family. In fact, after one too many Guinness, which Giovanni didn’t think he could ever get used to, her granddad had escorted him outside for a man to man discussion on what his intentions were for his grandchild. After Giovanni expressed his desire to marry Riley, the old man had been quick to bless their union, wishing them both a lifetime of love and happiness.

  Thorn Tattoo had exploded in popularity since the shop had been featured in Inked and their incredibly brief honeymoon in that very same VIP suite was the last time the two of them had been able to spend any time together other than to sleep.

  As a wedding present, Antonio had gifted them each one-third ownership in the shop making them all equal partners and he’d left them to deal with the shop while he chose to engage in other business pursuits.

  Granted, they still argued about how to do things with Riley insisting that they look at the long-term benefits for their major decisions. When their arguments would continue out in the tattoo bay, one of the guys was quick to lament about mom and dad fighting in front of the kids, which usually made Riley laugh while Giovanni would scowl at the offender.

  One of their discussions involved extending their hours and shifting to seven days a week but that would have entailed bringing in another manager to train, and if that person didn’t work out, they’d be stretched thin with the two of them working upwards of seven days a week. With their already long hours, he was going to be damned if the only time he could spend with his wife during the day was when they passed each other in the hall at the shop.

  At the moment, Giovanni was appreciative of the fact that he could work in peace while the shop was closed and he particularly liked the fact that his wife was naked from the waist down, which did make tattooing her difficult when all he wanted to do was pleasure her until she came apart in the chair. He was already looking forward to her next tattoo as he contemplated a placement that would leave her completely naked.

  Grabbing the spray bottle with water, he wiped away the excess ink and sat back to look at the design. When Riley had first expressed her desire for a tattoo, he’d immediately imagined putting something spectacular on her hip. He wanted to choose something that fit the gentle curves of her body and moved with her.

  When he was alone in the office, he researched the meaning of different flowers while he imagined what they would look like inked on her body. Looking at the design, he couldn’t be happier. Opting for a watercolor type image, he made sure to use high contrast with a black base.

  The field of dandelions had movement as they curved along her hip giving the impression they were blowing in the wind. While he’d worked on many difficult pieces over the years, this one held the most meaning for him and he really hoped she’d like it. Smiling, he finished cleaning it off.

  “Okay, you can see it now.” Before he could say anything else, Riley had scooted off the chair and rushed over to the full-length mirror. Turning this way and that, she looked at her hip frowning.

  Giovanni watched her carefully unsure if he should be worried. “What is it?” Biting her lip, she seemed reluctant to say anything until he prodded her. “Riley?”

  “I think it’s great, it’s just that, shouldn’t the dandelion in front have some seeds left on it so people can tell what it is?”

  Pulling his gloves off, Giovanni stood up and joined her in front of the mirror. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he turned her so the tattoo was visible in the mirror.

  “One, given where it is, no man will ever see this tattoo except for me. Ever.” He looked at her as she bit her lip in amusement and waited for her to nod in acknowledgement. “And two, it’s said that if you can blow all the seeds off a dandelion with one blow, then you are loved with a passionate love. If some seeds remain, then your lover has reservations about the relationship.”

  Turning her so she faced him, he wrapped his arms around her again, drawing her in close. “And you, Mrs. DeRose, are loved with a passion that knows no end. I have no reservations about you, this relationship, or us. I love you.”

  Riley stared up at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. Jumping up, she wrapped her legs around his hips clutching his shoulders. Giovanni steadied her and she cupped his face in both her hands looking at him with love. A smile blossomed slowly on her face and she tilted her head to kiss him. When she pulled back, he shifted so her back was pressed against the wall and he deepened the kiss. Separating again, they both took in long breaths and Giovanni was glad that no one else had the keys because he didn’t see them leaving anytime soon.

  Still breathless, Riley smiled at him. “Have I told you yet today that I love you?”

  Frowning, Giovanni pretended to think about it. “Only at breakfast and that was hours ago…..”

  What he planned to say was forgotten when she rained kisses across his face punctuating each kiss with a declared “I love you,” followed by how much she loved her tattoo.

  Chuckling, he stilled her moving head with another deep kiss. When he broke it, they were both panting again.

  “I love you, too, Riley. Passionately. Forever.”

  End of Rose

  Thorn Tattoo Studio Book One

  PLUS: Do you like hot-blooded, muscular and powerful men? Keeping reading for an exclusive excerpt from Leslie North’s bestselling novel Her Ruthless Russian (Karev Brothers Book One).

  Thank You!

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  BLURB

  Born into a Russian Mafia family, Vlad Karev is no stranger to violence…but this time it’s personal. Someone has murdered his father and Vlad can’t rest until he finds the killer. When the trail leads to an art gallery, Vlad wants to dig deeper, but he needs help from the owner’s daughter. The pretty redhead is far too innocent for a man like Vlad, but he’ll do what it takes to get the information he needs. His obligations are to the family, even if that means using the fiery woman.

  Madison O’Connor works hard to keep her family’s gallery going, although secretly she has little interest in art. But when she discovers her father’s been laundering money for the Russian Mafia, she’ll do everything she can to keep him out of jail. She hates to lie, b
ut she has a plan…seduce the Russian bad boy to learn the mob’s secrets. Never mind his dangerous exterior or icy blue eyes, Madison’s going to get her family free of the mob, even if she has to use Vlad Karev to do it.

  As the killer gets closer, so do Vlad and Madison. But is their connection just the means to an end, or could their romance be real?

  Grab your copy of Her Ruthless Russian from www.LeslieNorthBooks.com

  EXCERPT

  Vlad took that as his cue to intervene. Raising his hand, he signaled to his bodyguards to remain in the car before crossing the street without even looking for traffic, his attention solely focused on the scene in the alley. His long strides devolved into a more casual stroll as he came up beside the woman; she turned to regard his arrival with a stricken expression, unwittingly opening up her private exchange with the mover to encompass him as well.

  "Fifty percent discount, and she gets to keep the clipboard," Vlad said.

  The self-described supervisor looked him up and down. He had to look much more up than down. "Why do I give a fuck what you think?" the man demanded. "Mind your own business and keep walking!"

  The look Vlad was getting from the woman wasn't much more encouraging. Up close, she was as beautiful and harassed as he had guessed from across the street. Thick, red hair blazed like a firestorm around her neck and shoulders, giving the impression that she had wrestled with it that morning before ultimately deciding to take it down from its restraints. The color of her mane contrasted with the starched monochrome of her white blouse, which was just translucent enough to betray the dark impression of the brazier she wore beneath it. A smattering of freckles across her high cheeks and button nose filled Vlad with an immediate and unexpected desire to see just how far the constellation extended. Did they cover the rest of her body; her neck, her shoulders…? Did her lovers count them before going to sleep on them?

  Those were the tamest of the thoughts he entertained while looking at her. Even though his eyes were concealed behind his sunglasses, he thought she felt the suggestive weight of his gaze. He watched with interest as a mute flush rose up beneath the freckles whose full territory he was considering.

  "Hey! You listening to me, pal?" the driver demanded. The two movers had returned from inside the gallery, their hands freed from carting the broken frame. They flanked their supervisor, although they eyed Vlad with a good deal more wariness.

  Vlad turned his attention away from the beautiful woman to eye the three movers with far less interest. The accumulation of their upper body strength was something worth considering, at least. These weren't meatheads who zealously pumped iron at the gym—these were men who made their living hauling heavy objects, and they had the practical strength to show for it.

  "Move whatever remains inside," Vlad instructed, "and apply the zero to your offered discount. I won't repeat myself."

  "Sir, I can take care of this," the woman said uncertainly. Her tone made it clear she was uncomfortable with his easy command of the proceedings. He thought it likely her discomfort stemmed from the fact that she hadn't been able to tighten the leash on these men herself. "There's no need for you to get involved," she added.

  "Why don't you tell the fire-crotch to learn how to handle her own business?" the supervisor demanded.

  The woman gasped, as if all the wind had been knocked out of her by the crass insult. A meditative moment passed, and then Vlad put his coffee on a nearby ledge and struck out with the flat of his palm.

  His single-handed shove sent the driver flying backward against the truck trailer. The container rang hollowly at the impact, and the man's shoulder gave a sharp crack to rival the shattered wood frame from earlier, although Vlad was confident he hadn't used enough force to break any bones. The two movers sprang out of the way, and the woman's hand flew to her mouth.

  "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I—"

  "Get a move on," Vlad advised the three men. "Be glad I didn't spill my coffee."

  The threat in his tone was thinly veiled, and the movers collaborated to unload the items much more expediently after that. A thorough apology from the stricken supervisor preceded a complete refund, and it wasn't long before Vlad and the woman found themselves standing alone in the alley amid a cloud of dispersing exhaust. The truck was gone, carrying with it the three stooges who had given her such a hard time.

  "Terminate your contract with them," Vlad advised.

  "You don't have to tell me twice," the woman agreed.

  Generously, he held out his coffee to her. The woman accepted his offer without a second thought as to what she was doing, exhaling a long sigh, she raised the paper cup to her lips. In the next moment, she spat its contents out onto the ground.

  "Does this have… is that vodka?" she exclaimed incredulously.

  Vlad shrugged. It was as much a morning staple to him as cream was to professionals who had less vital business to attend to.

  "You cannot come into the gallery if you are intoxicated," the woman said, delivering her verdict in a clipped procession of words.

  Vlad raised an eyebrow. "Can't I?" He didn't bother correcting her assessment of his sobriety.

  The woman fisted her knuckles on her diminutive hips. Any pair of hands could get lost in a set of curves like that, he mused privately. "No, you cannot," she emphasized. "This is my family's gallery, and I won’t have someone like you…that is to say…there’s been enough damage for one day."

  There were two details in particular about the woman's comments that Vlad found far more interesting than her refusal to let him enter: one was her personal relationship to the gallery, and the other was her remark concerning someone like him. There was no mistaking the resentment in her tone. It may have been his intention to keep a low profile while visiting the gallery, but this woman saw right through him.

  Then again, maybe it was the sharp sting of the vodka on her tongue that clued her in.

  "Anyway, we're closed," she continued as she turned to go. His first sight of her had been from a distance, but he had yet to see her from behind. Vlad tipped his sunglasses to take in the view. Long, shapely legs stretched themselves to the limit of her slate-gray pencil skirt, hugging the rolling cleavage of her tight end. Now his thoughts about what lay beneath this woman's clothes were anything but tame.

  He was moving before he even knew he was in pursuit.

  Vlad reached out a hand and caught the heavy door, pulling it open with ease. Looking over his shoulder, he watched his bodyguard turn and return to the car. His men were good at their job but given recent events, they were more cautious than usual, which annoyed him. He was more than capable of taking care of himself in most any situation.

  Grab your copy of Her Ruthless Russian from www.LeslieNorthBooks.com