by Opal Carew
* * *
As Melanie opened the door to Devil’s Ink, she was greeted by the cheerful tinkle of a bell. She stepped into the clean, brightly lit studio. The walls were a warm brick red and covered with framed artwork of large, detailed tattoo designs.
There was a glass reception counter on one side and black chairs along two walls with a coffee table covered with magazines and binders. A large tropical plant stood in one corner.
“Can I help you?” A tall, lanky woman in a navy tank top and jeans, with several face piercings and her arms sleeved with tattoos, stood up from her chair behind the counter.
“I have an appointment with Charlie at three o’clock. I just wanted to be here ahead of time.”
“Sure. There’s some design books on the table there. Coffee machine’s over there. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” Melanie sat in one of the waiting chairs and leaned forward to riffle through the black binders laid out on the low, square table in front of her. She grabbed one and opened it, then scanned through it. There were a broad range of designs, sorted into categories. The shading on the designs was very well done, something she’d been told to watch for.
The bell over the door tinkled and in her peripheral vision, she saw a man in well-worn jeans, a chain dangling from his belt loop into his pocket, walk past her.
The man walked to the counter. Melanie glanced over the book at his back and couldn’t help but admire his broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms, showcased by the black tank top he wore.
Two men stepped into the room from a hallway, one a tall, bald man with a beard, his solid chest, arms, and neck covered with tattoos, and the other a man with white gauze on his bicep.
“I’ll be right with you,” the bald man said to the newcomer. “Hey, Rika. Bob’s done.”
“Be right there, Charlie,” the tall, lanky woman called from the other side of a doorway, then she walked back to the counter and smiled at the man with the gauze.
The bald man, who seemed to be the artist Melanie was here to see, turned to his next client and said, “Okay, now let me see what I’m working with.”
The new client pulled off his tank top and walked toward him. Melanie’s gaze landed on the hard, rippling muscles.
“So, you’re sure you don’t want me to alter the moth now that the chick has dumped you? Maybe change it to an angel?”
This man had a moth tattoo? Rafe had gotten a moth tattoo when he’d been dating Jessica.
“Naw. An angel’s not my style.”
The sound of the man’s familiar voice stunned Melanie.
The artist chuckled. “Yeah, until a chick asks you for it, right?”
She raised her gaze up the broad, tattoo-covered chest, to the man’s face.
“Rafe?”
She put down the book she’d been scanning and stared at him with wide eyes. She never would have believed Rafe would ever look like this. Muscle bound, inked, and breathtakingly hunky in a sexy bad-boy way. He was gorgeous beyond belief in his designer suits but, man, that was nothing compared to what lay underneath.
Rafe turned to her. “Melanie?” His lips turned up in that wide smile of his, paired with the warmth in his eyes that always made her feel special. “What are you doing here?”
Rafe gazed at Melanie. Her dark blonde hair hung loose, rather than tied back like she usually wore it at the office and the coffee shop she worked at now. It cascaded past her smooth, bare shoulders in soft waves, gleaming in the sunlight flowing through the big window.
She shrugged. “Same as you. Getting a tattoo.”
His lips turned up in a grin. “Really?”
Charlie grabbed a piece of paper Rika handed him, probably the artwork Charlie had worked up from the basic design Rafe had sent him.
Rafe watched as Melanie walked toward him.
“I’m afraid I’m a virgin,” she said.
Charlie chuckled.
Suddenly, Rafe saw her differently. Not as his sweet, innocent secretary, who wore demure suits and conservative flats. In those jeans and that lace-edged, black camisole top that showed off her shapely form, she looked anything but virginal.
Her cheeks heated. “As far as tattoos, I mean.”
Her gaze gliding over his broad shoulders, then down to his abs heated him like the caress of the noonday sun.
“You’re obviously very experienced,” she said.
Charlie chuckled again.
Rafe found himself tightening at her words, his mind filled with images of her, wide-eyed and vulnerable, lying in his bed. Fuck, what was wrong with him? This was Melanie.
“It’s just that, I’m kind of nervous about this. I’ve always wanted one, but it’s so permanent—and I know it’s going to hurt.”
He quirked his head. “Would you like me to stay with you?” He grinned. “Maybe hold your hand.”
She just nodded, and a need to be there for her, and protect her, washed through him.
“Could I watch while you get yours done?”
“You don’t have any problem with that, do you, Charlie?”
Charlie grunted. “The more the merrier.”
Charlie turned and headed to the hallway leading to his room. Rafe gestured for Melanie to precede him, and he followed her down the hall, his gaze settling on the delightful sway of her hips.
Once in the room, Charlie glanced at Melanie and pointed at a nearby chair. “You can sit there.”
Rafe sat down and Melanie watched as Charlie applied the template, then peeled it off.
“That work for you?” Charlie asked.
Rafe was happy with the placement of the design and nodded.
Melanie admired the design he was getting on his chest. It was the words SAVAGE KISS in the shape of a guitar. “That’s the name of your band, isn’t it?”
Rafe nodded once. “All my life music has been an outlet for me, a way to let go of my anger after one of my father’s beatings, or a way to burn off my frustration when I was pushed into a business I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be in. So this tat is not only to remember the year I spent with my band, but a symbol of what a huge part of my life music has always been. It saved me when I had nothing else.”
“That’s beautiful.” Melanie eyed the tattoo machine Charlie picked up and seemed to jump at the buzzing sound when he turned it on.
Rafe had done this enough times that he was used to it, so it didn’t faze him when Charlie started the outline, but he knew for Melanie, being her first time, she might have a hard time with it. He hoped his relaxed attitude during the whole process would calm her, but he could see the distress in her eyes as she watched the angry swirls taking the shape of a guitar on his chest.
The tattoo took about an hour, and Melanie watched intently the whole time. Once it was done, he stared in the mirror at Charlie’s handiwork. Perfect as usual. Anxiety filled Melanie’s eyes as she stared at the redness around the edges. Charlie applied cream to the tattoo and placed the gauze over it, then Rafe stood up.
“I guess it’s my turn now,” Melanie said reluctantly.
“Who’s doing yours?” he asked.
“I am,” Charlie said. He walked over to the workstation and returned with a template. “Where’s it going?”
“Oh, um … right here.” She pointed to the top of her right breast.
“Okay. You wanna sit or lie down?”
She glanced at the padded table he had by the wall, then shook her head. “I’ll sit.”
Melanie sat in the leather chair, biting her lip.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine,” Rafe said.
She nodded, but looked even more nervous as Charlie sat down and rolled his stool close to her.
“You gonna take off the top, or just pull down the edge?” Charlie asked.
“Oh,” she gazed at Rafe, then glanced at the paper template in Charlie’s hand, “will it work to just tuck it down?”
“Yeah, why not?”
Rafe’s gaze locked on Melanie’s
fingers as she slowly tugged down the top edge of the fabric, revealing the swell of her breast.
God damn, she was sexy. But he shouldn’t be thinking of her that way.
As she pulled the fabric lower, revealing more sweet, creamy flesh, he realized that she didn’t work for him anymore, so he could think about her any way he wanted. As long as he didn’t act on it.
Unless she wanted him to.
Would she, he wondered.
Charlie placed the paper on her round flesh, and as he rubbed it to make it smooth against her skin, Rafe wished he could be doing that. He longed to feel that lovely curve.
Charlie peeled away the paper, leaving a beautiful design of a bird taking flight.
“Nice.” Rafe smiled.
“Thanks. I did the design myself.”
Surprise skittered through him. He knew she liked to express herself with color, like her nail polishes, but he hadn’t realized she had an artistic bent.
“It’s beautiful. You’re very talented.”
“Thanks.”
Her cheeks flushed pink. He didn’t know if it was from the compliment, or the fact that half her breast was exposed.
“My parents weren’t very supportive of my dreams either. They worked menial jobs and pushed me to go to college to be the family success story, to make all their sacrifices worthwhile. So I went and got my administrative degree, even though I really wanted to go to art school. But they never would have supported that—so the only way I ever got to express myself these past few years is through my nail art. But I really want to bring it back into my life. I love to imagine things and bring them to life through my artwork.”
When Charlie turned on the tattoo machine, Melanie jumped at the sound. Rafe stepped to her side and rested his hand on her forearm.
“I’m gonna start now,” Charlie said. “You gotta stay real still. Got that?”
She eyed him, nodding uncertainly.
“It’s okay. It ain’t gonna hurt too much.”
Charlie was a little rough around the edges, but he had his compassionate side.
“Okay.” But as he leaned toward her, Melanie’s hand slipped around Rafe’s forearm, and her fingers tightened.
Rafe covered her hand with his. “Breathe.”
She drew in a deep breath as Charlie pressed the device to her skin. At the first contact, her eyes widened, but she didn’t move.
“You doing okay?” Rafe asked.
She nodded again, watching Charlie work. Rafe watched in fascination as the artist glided the machine over her creamy breast, the skin reddening around the black line of the design as he moved. Melanie continued to breathe deeply, but soon began to relax a little.
He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “Not too bad, right?”
She nodded, as if afraid to utter any words.
When Charlie finished the outline, he drew away, getting ready for the shading. This part hurt more.
She gazed down at the design, which was taking shape nicely. Right now it was just an outline of the bird, but once Charlie filled it in with color, it would come to life.
“Do you want some water?” Rafe asked.
“Yes, thanks.”
She drew her delicate hand from his arm and he immediately missed the contact. He grabbed a bottle from the small fridge Charlie had on the side and twisted off the cap for her.
He handed it to her and she took a deep swallow, just as Charlie returned to her side, a number of pigments doled out on his tray in little pools. He dipped the device into one of the blues, then began filling in the wings of the bird. She tensed again, and this time Rafe reached for her hand. She glanced up at him and smiled timidly, then gazed at Charlie’s handiwork, her fingers clinging tightly to Rafe’s hand.
“So why did you pick a bird?” Rafe asked, hoping to distract her.
“It’s a symbol.” She laughed tensely. “I guess that’s true for everyone. But for me it represents freedom, and that’s something I’m trying to embrace right now. Not getting caught up in other people’s expectations, and just being true to myself and my own dreams, even if they’re impractical.”
She took another swallow from the water bottle. The bird took form as Charlie swirled the tattoo machine along her skin. Melanie seemed to want to concentrate on watching Charlie work, so Rafe just continued to stroke her hand. Although she was handling the pain, after a while it seemed to be getting to her, so he drew her hair back from her face, then curled his fingers behind her neck and kneaded the tense muscles. She gazed up at him in surprise.
“That’s nice,” she said. “Thanks.”
She seemed to relax as she gazed at him rather than at the tattoo. There was something in her bright green eyes that disturbed and yet elated him. A warmth that he realized he’d seen before. Had she always looked at him that way and he’d never noticed?
A tightness coiled in his stomach. Or had he chosen not to notice? Shutting it out because, he realized now, he felt the same warmth for her but he would never act on feelings for an employee. He would never put her in that position.
They’d been close when he’d been her boss. At least, they’d shared a friendly camaraderie.
And he’d told her things he wouldn’t tell just anyone, like when he’d fallen in love with Jessica during a year of soul searching, then lost her. When he’d found her working for his brother on his return to Philly, he’d hoped for a reconciliation, but that hadn’t worked out.
But here was Melanie, looking absolutely sinful as a sheen of sweat appeared on the swell of her cleavage. She bit her full bottom lip, and his gut told him it was worth exploring where this might lead.
Charlie wiped the design with his cloth, then changed pigment. Melanie tensed when he started up again and Rafe continued stroking her neck, pleased that he could help her through this.
Charlie continued filling in the tattoo. Finally, he sat back and stared critically at the bluebird design for a moment, then nodded and smiled. As well he should. It was stunning. Charlie grabbed a big handheld mirror and offered it to her. She took the mirror and held it so she could see the design front on, rather than staring down at it. Her face lit up with a beautiful, beaming smile.
“Oh, it’s beautiful!”
“It really is,” Rafe agreed, though he found he couldn’t drag his gaze from her stunning features.
High cheekbones and soft-looking, heart-shaped lips. A delicate chin and pert little nose. And big emerald green eyes that seemed to glow.
How had he never realized how beautiful she was before?
Charlie applied cream to the tattoo. The sight of his big fingers rubbing vigorously over the soft flesh of her breast sent a little jealously surging through Rafe. And a shot of adrenaline as his groin tightened at the thought of his own hand stroking her breast like that.
Charlie covered the tattoo with gauze and she stood up. Rafe followed her out the door, then to the reception desk.
Rika smiled. A new gem—deep red, probably a garnet—glinted from her lip. He hadn’t noticed it when he came into the shop. It was her fifth, joining the blue, green, amber, and purple ones already there.
“I like the new piercing.”
Her smile broadened. “Yeah, thanks. Happy with your new ink?”
“I am. As always.” He glanced at Melanie.
She nodded. “It’s beautiful. He did a fantastic job.”
“Good. That’s what we like to hear.”
Rafe pulled out his credit card and slid it into the small device on the counter. He finished the transaction, then pulled out some twenties and handed them to Rika. “Please give that to Charlie.”
“Sure thing.” Rika placed the money in an envelope behind the counter.
Melanie placed her bag on the counter.
Rika smiled at her. “Oh, you’re all set. Your gift certificate covered it.”
“Okay, but … um…”
“If you’re worried about the tip, hon, it was enough to cover that, too.
No worries.”
Melanie looked relieved, and Rafe realized she was probably on a pretty tight budget since her new job likely didn’t pay anything near what she’d been making at Ranier Industries. He didn’t really understand why she wasn’t looking for something better.
* * *
As Melanie stepped outside, Rafe behind her, she regretted that this time with him was about to end. The tattoo had been painful, but not as bad as she’d anticipated. It had been so nice, though, having him there to literally hold her hand through it.
“Would you like a ride home?” he asked.
She gazed at him in his jeans and tank top, tattoos visible over his chest and flowing down his arms and she couldn’t help laughing. “I just got a mental picture of you dressed just as you are now climbing into that shiny, black limo.”
He shrugged. “Sure, why not? Would you like to ride in the limo?”
She had always wanted to. It seemed so glamorous and luxurious. It would be a taste of how the other half lived.
“Or, since it’s such a nice day, we could ride my motorcycle.”
She raised her eyebrow. “You have a motorcycle?”
“That’s right. It’s over there.” He nodded his head toward a big, gleaming, burgundy Harley parked on the street in front of the shop. “But I know some women are a little intimidated by them.”
Melanie laughed. “Not me. I’ve always wanted to ride one.” She walked to the big machine and ran her fingers over the soft, black, leather seat. “I would love to ride with you.”
His lips turned up in a devilish grin. “Really?”
She glanced at him and realized her statement might have sounded a little … sexual. Suddenly, an image washed through her of straddling Rafe, and slowly moving up and down on him, his big erection buried deep inside her. A wild surge of hormones vibrated through her.
As her cheeks blossomed with heat, she flicked her gaze to the seat again. “Um, yeah. It would be a real adventure. Then I can cross two items off my bucket list—getting a tattoo and riding a motorcycle.”
“I never knew you had such a wild side.”
Before she could respond, he opened the back compartment and handed her a helmet, then pulled one on himself.
She opened her bag and grabbed the light sweater she’d brought with her and started to pull it on. Ever the gentleman, Rafe grabbed it and held it up for her so she could easily push her arms into the sleeves. As she zipped it up, he pulled a black leather jacket from the storage bin and put it on.