“So they caught it early? What did they do?”
“Yes. They did a biopsy. I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma.” She pointed to one of the scars and he wanted to lean forward and kiss it. “They used radiation therapy on the cancerous lymph nodes.”
She paused then and he knew that she was giving him the abridged version, speaking in shortened sentences—distancing herself from what had happened.
“The treatment was effective and by the one-year anniversary of the diagnosis I was in remission. I found a full-time position at a library in Houston and loved it. I’d discovered that I enjoyed writing. I had an apartment, a boyfriend, and a social life. Hodgkin’s was a bump in the road that I thought I was over.”
“It happened again?”
“Yeah.”
He couldn’t resist asking the question, thinking of her being on her own dealing with cancer. “Did your boyfriend help you? Was someone there for you?” Obviously the guy hadn’t hung on long-term.
“In the beginning, yes. My mom and dad were also very supportive but they were starting a contracting business and so I tried to not bother them. The doctors did another biopsy and more…tests.” Her eyelids fluttered closed and he didn’t press the point if she wanted to skim over the painful details. “Cancer teaches you patience with yourself and others. They prescribed radiation again and when that didn’t do well enough on its own, they added chemotherapy to the regimen of treatment.” She let out a long sigh. “I hate to bore you with all this.”
“You’re not. I want to know. Tell me, Jayne.”
“I started to feel like my life slowed down, while everyone else’s sped up around me. I had no energy. I couldn’t work. Insurance didn’t cover everything and the medical bills started piling up. Between doctor’s visits and treatment appointments, I distracted myself with writing. My family was there for me, but it got exhausting for all of us. I was beyond relieved when the treatments worked and I went into remission. It took a long time to get my energy back and I had side effects from the treatment. They told me that it was likely that I was infertile, which was depressing, but at least I wasn’t dying, you know?”
Seth’s heart went out to her as he nodded.
“I finally got to a point where I felt nearly normal. Mike—my boyfriend—proposed and I accepted. I was thankful that he’d stuck by me but I knew that the infertility diagnosis bothered him. I wasn’t quite up to full speed when I got sick again, the same flu-like symptoms as the first time. The doctors treated the cancer aggressively and the side effects from the chemo and radiation had me wishing I was dead at times but I stayed positive because I had a wedding to look forward to, even though we’d had to put it on hold.
“Knowing that I was susceptible to depression from the last go-round, I tried acupuncture, chiropractic care, and I wrote in every spare moment. I never told Mike about what I was writing because I knew he came from a very conservative family and wouldn’t approve. It was something I did for my own enjoyment so I didn’t worry. One day, he found one of my journals and read it.”
Seth paused for a second to look up at her. Her cheeks were flushed as she made eye contact with him and he understood why she’d been ready to pass out the night before when she’d answered the door.
“Mike was angry. He let me have it then, like it’d been building up for a while. He said he’d put his life on hold long enough. He said he’d never really reconciled himself to the fact there weren’t going to be any kids to pass on his family name if he married me. And he’d be damned if he married a woman who wrote porn.” The last word escaped her lips on a whisper and he wanted to reach for her. He had a sense that she was pulling a bandage off of an old wound and let her continue uninterrupted.
“I was halfway through a cycle of chemotherapy treatments when he broke off our engagement. My mom moved in with me temporarily and helped me because it got so hard to function. I couldn’t get over how tired I was, no matter how much sleep I got. And working was impossible, because the chemo affected my memory and ability to focus. I was really scared. My system was a little haywire and I gained a lot of weight which—you really don’t want to hear all the gory details. I’m sorry.”
He placed a hand around the bottom of her foot and stroked her arch. “It’s okay. Tell me.”
“Between the permanent side effects from the radiation treatments, like this”—she indicated the darkened area he planned to cover—“the scars, the weight gain, the depression…I was a mess. I gave up writing. I nearly gave up altogether but my mom sat me down one day and gave me a talking-to. She told me that if writing made me happy and helped to distract me from my discomfort then Mike could just ‘go fuck himself’ was how she put it. I’d never heard my mom talk like that before.” She giggled softly as she relived the memory.
“She took me swimming when I had the energy for it. She read my stories and didn’t criticize any of them. She held my hand when I threw up after treatments and helped me believe I might survive. I made it through the treatments and last year, the doctors told me that they were confident about the outcome. I focused on my recovery, moved, got a new job, and made contact with Grace and Charity, who I’d lost track of over the years. I decided that for however long I have, I was going to make up for all those lost years.”
“And here you are.”
Her voice was a soft echo. “Here I am.”
Her abdomen fluttered as he drew in light, brief strokes, and then he shifted, trapping her other calf between his thighs as he moved toward her left hip.
“How are you doing now?”
“I have to be careful of infections and get my flu shot every year. I still feel a little out of sync at times, dealing with people who don’t know what it’s like to deal with life-and-death issues. I lost most of that weight, but I still struggle.”
He couldn’t help the fact that she’d been sick but he understood about her self-consciousness, after the struggles and trauma she’d been through. “To me you look perfect. And I can cover up most of these scars and this mark if you want them completely gone.” He showed her the rose that would cover almost all of the area darkened by the radiation treatments. Her thigh was warm and satiny as he rested his forearm against it. When he reached the elastic waist of her G-string, he hooked it with his thumb and kept drawing.
“I’d love it. I want to leave all that behind, for as long as—” She cut off whatever she was about to say but he could guess at it. For as long as I have.
“Do they think it’ll come back?”
“There’s always the chance, but the doctors seemed optimistic. I feel nearly as good as I did before the first diagnosis. So you can understand why I went a little overboard with the whole going-for-it attitude when opportunity presented itself with you.”
Knowing her history did cast what had happened the night before in a whole new light. He understood why she didn’t want to wait for her wedding night. And why she hadn’t voiced a need for a commitment. He wanted to give her what she wanted but still stood by his convictions. “I do understand a little better. I promise it’s not because I don’t want you.” He met her gaze. You know I do. His erection stirred again at the way her eyes drank him in. The unusual blue-green color blended with a striation of brown within the iris gave her eyes a sensual, earthy glow that he had to force himself to look away from, to continue drawing.
They lapsed into thoughtful silence, and he continued drawing. They listened to the music and the work settled into a rhythm.
With the section on her abdomen complete, he rolled his chair back and said, “I need you to stand for the last part, Jayne.”
She nodded silently and eased to her feet. He drew near and closed his eyes as he breathed in slowly, swamping his senses with her secret, seductive fragrance. Her sweet little cunt was inches from his mouth, and he wanted so much to pull the G-string from her and feast on her. She laid her hand on his shoulder for a moment as she steadied herself, and he looked up at her.
<
br /> Her eyes glowed with arousal, and she bit her lip as her brow furrowed faintly. He finished drawing the basic design and capped the marker and rolled back a few inches.
Gesturing to the full-length mirror hung on the wall, he asked her to go take a look and stayed on the stool because his cock was ramrod stiff and getting even harder as she turned her back on him to walk to the mirror.
He wanted nothing more than to reach out and stroke and squeeze those lush, round globes. Her ivory-toned flesh was perfect all over, just as he knew it would be that day two weeks before when he’d helped her into the pool at the Divine Creek Ranch.
He was curious to see how she’d take the tattoo machine because that would determine how detailed he got with her tattoo. They’d take it in stages, and he’d add in layers of detail if she handled it well.
It was his turn to feel heat creep into his face when she glanced at him in the mirror and caught him ogling her derriere.
She smiled and giggled. “Caught ya.”
He grinned at her and rolled his eyes as his cock throbbed miserably. He was rethinking his no-sex rule already. The tattoo would take at least a month to complete by his calculations. A lot could happen in a month.
“Ready to get started?”
She turned to look at him face-to-face and nodded. “Yes. I’d like that.”
He noticed that she had goose bumps and reached into one of the cabinets for a sterile paper drape, unfolded it, and laid it over her hips once she was on the table.
She put her hand over his where it rested briefly on her hip and dazzled him with her smile. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me uncovered for this or not.”
I’d always want you uncovered, beautiful. “I want you comfortable. I’ll move it aside when I have to, and after I’m done with your top half, I’ll drape you there too.”
He positioned her on her left side with her right arm resting on a cushion in front of her so he had unfettered access to her right side. “I’m right-handed, so I’d like to begin on this side. If it gets to be too much, let me know and we can take a break. Breathe slow and deep, and please don’t move.”
She gazed up at him with trusting eyes, showing no trepidation in her expression except for her lip which was caught between her teeth.
“I’m ready.”
* * * *
Jayne looked up at Seth, who seemed concerned for her, and she smiled to reassure him. “I can handle this.”
She laid her head on the pillow, got comfortable, and held perfectly still for him. He sat on his stool and leaned close enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence at her back.
He placed his palm on her ribs and tapped her with a finger. “This is where I’m starting. We’ll go in short spells at first until you grow accustomed to the sensation.” He turned the tattoo machine on, and it made a vibrating, humming sound.
She gripped her hand into a fist but didn’t move otherwise as a white-hot buzzing sensation rippled across her flesh.
Holy mother of all things pointy and painful! Breathe, baby!
Just as she settled into the reality of getting a tattoo and breathed as he’d told her to, he lifted the vibrating tattoo machine from her.
Seth flicked his eyes up to hers and brushed gently at her skin with a soft cloth. “Managing okay?”
Jayne nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna be fine.” Seth reacted with a pleased smile.
Better than fine. She could do this.
“I’m going to continue in short intervals like that for a few minutes to give you time to adjust. Tell me if you need me to stop. Just don’t move.”
She relaxed with her head on the pillow and listened to the evocative beat of the melody playing over the sound system. She didn’t think she’d dozed, but at some point she must’ve lost track of time, because Seth stopped and gently rubbed at her skin then said, “Okay. It’s time to turn onto your back. You cold?”
“A little, yes.”
He took down a paper drape from a cabinet and covered her shoulders and breasts, and Jayne noticed he was still hard. She felt bad for him because she’d planted the idea of them having sex in his mind.
“Lie with your hands behind your head.”
She did as he asked, relieved, because she wasn’t sure what to do with them anyway. He took his seat on his stool and looked at her for approval as he held the machine ready. She nodded and watched his face as he worked. A tiny bit of his lower lip was snagged under his teeth as he focused on the design outline.
“If you’d like, we can make future appointments after work, rather than wait until each weekend. I want to allow a week and a half between sessions for your skin to heal. If we do it after hours, I’ll have fewer interruptions since the shop closes after six.”
“One of the benefits of living in a small town.”
Seth gave a small smile. “True. I’ve done tattoos at all hours of the day and night in my career. Most of my work now is done by appointment, but I do have a few walk-ins. I’d rather not be interrupted while working on you.”
Heat bloomed in Jayne’s cheeks, and Seth’s eyes met hers for a second before he continued working. The muscles in his jaw flexed as though he was clenching it. She was grateful for the drape covering her hips when she felt her hot juices seep out and wet the lace of her G-string.
“How long will it take to get done?”
“A month, give or take. You handle the tattoo machine well, so if you want more shading or detail there may be an extra session or two.”
To get her train of thought settled into safer territory, she asked, “Have you traveled much?”
Seth gave a slight nod as he focused on what he was doing and softly replied, “All over.”
“The United States?”
A slight frown marred his sensual lips before he shook his head. “The world. Japan, Thailand, Malaysia…ended up in Europe. Paris.” There was a long pause before he finally added, “I saw some great sights, met some pretty cool people. I learned a lot and I know it helped my career, but…” He let out a long sigh, his warm breath caressing her skin like the stroke of a silky feather. “Experience is overrated.”
She could tell his memories troubled him and didn’t want to bring down his mood by asking any more questions. She knew what it was like to not want people prying in her private affairs so she afforded him the same consideration.
The instrumental music played on, this time with a dark, decidedly melancholy element to it. He worked his way slowly down her rib cage and across, toward her left hip bone. Besides the now-manageable pain of the tattoo machine, there was also pleasure as his gloved fingers rested on her body and wiped with the soft cloth every so often.
At one point, she twinged minutely, and he drew the machine away from her skin. “Let’s take a short break. You’re doing great.” He rubbed gently at the design with the cloth and then reached for a hand mirror. “Want a peek at it so far?”
Her jaw dropped when she saw her torso in the mirror. “It’s exactly like the drawing.”
“Do you like it?” He didn’t sound insecure when he asked the question, but she saw a trace of vulnerability in his eyes and she gave in to the overwhelming urge to reach out to him, laying her hand on his solid, muscular shoulder.
“I love it. I’m so glad I decided to go through with it.” She felt like saying more, the endorphin high she was on inspired her to say more, but she breathed deep and closed her eyes instead.
I did it. I seized the day. I’ll never regret this choice, no matter how old I am. This is like a new part of me showing through.
She gazed in the mirror one more time.
I love it!
He stroked at the part he’d been working on with a fingertip before she handed him the mirror. He seemed like he wanted to reply but said nothing. His touch, even though his hands were gloved, inspired a wave of heat that coursed through her core. She knew it was just the endorphin rush that enhanced it, but she wanted him even more si
nce he’d begun this work of art on her flesh.
That’s hormones talking, ninny. He already told you no once. Don’t make him feel worse by flinging yourself at him.
He continued on with the tattoo as her thoughts ranged freely. He’d made his point eloquently the night before. He thought she should save her virginity. By the time she found a man whom she felt comfortable enough with to marry, she might be forty. She had some living and loving and lost time to make up for, and that was a fact. In this day and age, her teenage resolution seemed obsolete.
Fuck it. I’m taking care of this on my own. Maybe then, down the road, I might have a chance with him.
In her endorphin-induced high, she slammed the mental door on the thought of how he might react if she ever told him that she’d taken matters into her own hands and her virginity was a nonissue.
Chapter Four
Jayne smiled happily at Ben Lawrence when he placed the Divine Margarita, Ethan Grant’s special recipe, on a square napkin in front of her at the bar.
This was her second.
“Sip that slowly. The last one was pretty potent, so I made this one just a bit weaker, okay? And thanks for not griping about handing over your keys. Ethan would kill me if I let you get toasted and then drive. I put your purse under the bar.”
Jayne giggled, and her joints felt loose and flexible as she scrunched up her shoulders and then sighed happily. She took a long sip. “Thank you, Ben. I understand and appreciate you looking out for me. This is delicious.” She happily took another sip as “Springsteen” by Eric Church played on the club’s sound system.
It had been a week and a half since her first tattoo session, and the work Seth had done so far had healed enough that she felt reasonably sure about going out and having some fun and just seeing where things went.
Condoms and lubricant tucked in the zipper pouch of my purse, and my loins are girded with one and a half kick-ass margaritas.
A loud snicker erupted from her as she was dazzled by her own brilliant, punny humor.
Heather Rainier Page 5