by Taryn Quinn
Every night she watched the driveway instead of the neighborhood view she loved so much. All she could do was wait for his truck at night. Some nights she woke to the rumble of his engine, some nights she even caught a glimpse of him.
Work was fine. She had a million things to do to distract herself, but at night?
She’d never ached for anyone in her life.
She hated it.
And she wanted to hate him, but one look at him and she realized just how stupid she was being. Every reason she’d come up with to cut him out of her life was as flimsy as wet tissue paper.
She slid onto the modified chair. Part of it reminded her of a dentist’s chair with the hydraulics and cushioning. It smelled of lemons and the underlying burn of bleach. He took care of his studio.
No wonder he’d looked at her as if she was insane when she talked about replacing his work as an artist. Everything about the room screamed Ben. From the hauntingly beautiful artwork on the walls to the orderly work station, all of it mirrored the man she was just starting to know.
They’d rushed through the preliminaries and went right into intimacy. No wonder she couldn’t find her footing. His Christmas designs were just an extension of the artist who was as at home here as he was in her duplex.
The same touches were in his half of the house. Orderliness with an overlay of art.
She lay back, stretching her back out to find a comfortable position. Ben was silently unwrapping new needles, which he deftly slid into a pen-shaped cylinder. He hooked the end in a small square contraption that looked like two spools. The quiet snap of a rubber band made her shut her eyes against watching anymore.
Not knowing was probably better for her.
“I’m going to draw out some lettering freehand and then transfer it on your skin, outline it and shade a little bit.”
She nodded and took a steadying series of breaths.
“You don’t have to do this, Darcy.”
“I know. I want to.” She really did. She trusted Ben on this. She saw his work on the boards in the heart of his waiting room. The colors were unbelievably rich, but the underlying art was what drew her. “Just keep it small.”
When he didn’t say anything, she opened her eyes to see him hunched over the table. His fingers were flying with a mechanical pencil, then he switched off to a marker. He was done with the design in less than five minutes.
“How’s that?”
She sat up. The lettering was less than two inches wide in thin strokes of black and shades of gray. The E in hope tailed off into a star that wound into the center of the O.
“You drew that just now?”
He nodded. “Suits you.”
She leaned forward and kissed him softly. “It’s lovely.”
His dark eyes gleamed and the smile rolled her heart in her chest until there was nothing but warmth. “Let me just go get it on transfer paper.”
She lay back again and smoothed her palm against her jittering belly. She wasn’t afraid of the word, no… It was the pain she wasn’t so sure about. Surely it couldn’t be that bad.
He came back in with a small piece of paper and snapped on black latex gloves. He rolled over to her. “Let’s get you situated so I make sure this is good and straight.”
“Where do you want me?”
He grinned down at her. “Flat on your back. Just so I can line it up.”
She straightened in the seat and slowed her breathing.
He tapped and shifted the paper, taking a small spray bottle off his hip. “It will be—”
She drew in a sharp breath. “Cold?”
“Cold.” His voice gentled. “You’re doing just fine.”
“You didn’t even start with the ink yet.”
He pressed down on the paper then slowly peeled it back. “Want to see how it looks first?”
She shook her head. “I want to see it when it’s done.”
“Your skin will be really angry and red.”
“I want to see the finished product.”
“Afraid you’ll change your mind?”
She shook her head. “No, I won’t.”
He gave her a soft smile then rolled away to ready the rest of the tools of his trade. When he came back to her the gun had a small tube at the top. “The outlining really is the worst part. But I’ve been doing this for a long time, so I’ll move as quickly as I can and then we’ll see if you need a break, okay?”
She swallowed and nodded.
“Turn on your side. Good. Reach up and there you go.” Her fingers wrapped around a grip that reminded her of a bicycle handle.
“Did you do this?”
“Sometimes all you need is something to hold on to. Makes it easier to stay still.”
She nodded.
“I’ll take care of you, Darcy.”
She closed her eyes. “I know, Ben.” The high-pitched buzz made her jump.
“Easy.”
Easy for him to say. She held her breath, waiting for him to begin.
“Breathe.”
She let out a slow breath and the tip of the needle struck. Her entire body stiffened and the quick shock of pain ratcheted up to a pressure-filled burn into her skin. She slowly relaxed as he fell into a rhythm of pressure, heat and the scrape of the needle then the swipe of cool cloth.
“You okay?”
She could hear the change in his voice. It almost sounded like his voice when he’d taken her in his living room that second time. Intense, gruff and focused. She shivered lightly and felt the hot flush of blood under her cheeks as her nipples tightened.
If he noticed, he didn’t say anything.
He stretched her skin lightly and she could feel each curve of the O. She was expecting him to write on her skin, but the transfer seemed to become a form to him. The bottoms of the letters hurt the most, but that wasn’t surprising since it was the curve of her rib cage. Just skin over bone.
Finally the pressure and burn were gone and the cool paper towel soothed her skin again and again. “I’m done with the outline. Just a little bit of shading and you’ll be done.”
The serious lines of his face melted into the friendly crinkles at the corners of his eyes. She could see why he had so many pictures of happy customers in the waiting room. Ben was easy with people and his calm nature put people at ease.
“Need a break?”
She shook her head, not quite able to articulate anything around the feelings that swamped her. He was a good, kind man and she’d almost thrown away any chance with him.
All because she was too stupid and afraid to see what was in front of her.
She sucked in a deep breath as the shading needles blazed over her skin. The sharp pain of the smaller needle had felt more like tearing. This was pure heat.
“Okay, lie still, baby.”
She slowly eased back on the table, forcing her skin to press into the warm vinyl. The endorphins chased the heat and her nipples beaded again. It could have been a minute or ten minutes when he finally sat back, smoothing her skin a final time.
“You have such sensitive skin. It raised like crazy, but you barely bled.”
“That’s a good thing?”
He smiled. “Very good thing. Healing time will be quicker and less chance of scabbing over.”
She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she smiled. “Easy patient.”
He smiled. And helped her sit up. The numbing heat faded, leaving behind what felt like a sunburn. He pulled her around to the floor-to-ceiling mirror that made up the corner of his room.
She gasped. He was right, her skin was an angry pink, but the shading was delicate and the star in the center of the O in hope was a soft, mossy green.
“I took a little liberty with the color for the star. I was going to stick with purple or blue, but the green reminds me of your eyes.”
She lifted her arm and stepped closer. “It’s… I didn’t think it would be quite so beautiful.” She winced and looked at him in the mirror. �
�That sounded bad.”
He laughed. “No, I get it. You see ink on other people and sometimes it looks like it was done in a back alley.”
She nodded. “Lots of basement tattoos happened when I was a kid.”
“Cesar and I studied under different people, but one thing we both have in common is the art. His is a little more Miami and L.A. than mine, but we suit.”
She turned to him. “Thank you. It’s amazing. You must think I’m a complete jerk for saying you should give this up.”
“Now that’s a compliment, Darcy Tucker.”
She rose on her toes and kissed him softly, grimacing when her skin pulled.
He laughed. “Let’s get you lubed up and wrapped.”
She sat on the table and he smeared a gob of triple antibiotic ointment on her skin and ripped off a piece of Saran Wrap. “Really?”
He laughed. “Best protection ever.” He ripped off tape and stuck it to the edge of the table. “Now. I don’t usually do this, but you’re a special client.”
Darcy grinned. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
He reached around her and undid the hooks of her bra.
Her eyes widened. “That better be just for me.”
He laughed. “I can’t say I haven’t seen a lot of breasts and…other things in my career, but I don’t ever touch the clients for anything other than the needlework.”
The quick stab of jealousy surprised her. She’d never felt like that about someone in her life. Her number for relationships was laughable, but none of them had ever made her feel the least bit anxious.
He eased the straps down, gently spread a gauze pad over the wrap and taped it down. She nodded as he explained aftercare and keeping it clean, to ignore itching and keep it moisturized.
“Handy that I can give you some hands-on aftercare.”
“Oh, you think so?”
He nodded sagely. “It’s all about aftercare. And now that I don’t have to play professional artist, I can taste these.”
She let her head tip back as his hot breath hovered over her nipple before sucking one into his mouth.
“I watched them tighten when I was working on you.”
She held his head to her chest, her grip tightening on his hair. “Yeah, I was kind of embarrassed.”
He grinned up at her. “The endorphin high affects everyone differently.”
“I’m not into pain.”
He laughed and bit down, drawing her nipple away from her breast.
“Okay, maybe that part— Gosh, just like that.”
“I’m probably the only man on this earth that gets hard when I hear that word out of your mouth.”
She dragged her eyelids open. “What?”
He shook his head. “Never mind.” He nipped her other breast, dragging the flat of his tongue over her nipple. “Do you want your shirt?”
She shook her head. “I want you to take yours off.”
“Why, Darcy Tucker, are you going to violate my place of business?”
“If you have a condom I am.”
He rolled back to his worktable, opened the drawer and flashed his wallet. “I just happen to have one on me.”
“Very convenient.” She tried not to think about him being with anyone else between the time they’d made love and today. Making sure to keep her smile bright when he rolled back to her, she reached for the condom.
He frowned. “Everything okay?”
“Good thing you don’t have a parrot in here. You say that an awful lot.”
Ben wrapped his hands around hers and stopped her from ripping it open. “Something happened between here and my desk.”
“Nothing happened.”
He dragged her to the edge of the chair. “You’re the only person I want to be with, Darcy. If me saying something about other customers is bothering you…”
She shook her head. “I don’t have any right to say anything if you did.”
“Yes, you do.”
She looked up at him. “I—”
“Darcy, when I’m with you I’m with you. No one else.”
She nodded. Ben would definitely be true to any woman he was with. He wouldn’t disrespect someone like that. That much she knew.
“Then what?”
“It’s nothing.”
His hold tightened. “Obviously not.”
“It’s just…” Her shoulders slumped. “It’s too stupid to say out loud. I don’t have any right to even ask.”
He left the condom in her hand and cupped her face. “Ask.”
“Why do you have one in your wallet?”
“One—oh.” His serious face split into a grin. “I think I like jealous Darcy. You know, as long as you don’t go all made-for-TV-movie psycho or anything.”
“You’re safe from the Lifetime movie original.”
He laughed. “I took to having a few in my wallet when we were… Well, that morning after.”
“Oh. Now I feel really dumb.”
He tipped her head up and kissed her. “I like that you’re territorial. It’s hot.”
She scrunched up her nose.
He laughed and kissed her deeper this time, then leaned back as she lifted his shirt over his head. She loved the wide expanse of his chest. He was hairless save for a trail of dark chocolate hair that fanned out below his navel. She swirled her tongue around the pectoral muscle, glorying in the way it tightened and rippled when she found his nipple.
His body was magnificent. She’d never been with anyone as strong and muscled as Ben. Most of the men she’d dated had been connected to the store. Either someone who worked there or was a vendor. But none of them were in Ben’s league.
She splayed her fingers over his chest, flicking her thumbs under his nipples as she swirled her tongue over the striations of muscle that led to his collarbone. His throat worked and she chased his Adam’s apple, nipping lightly.
“Your body is incredible.”
His dark eyes deepened as his irises bled into his pupils.
She dipped her hands down over the ridges of his abdominal muscles to tease through the baby fine hair at his belly and into the coarse hair below his belt. She smiled when she got to his buckle. It was a wide copper fastener that mimicked the texture of a snakeskin.
Artist in every way, that was her Ben.
She unhooked it and dug into the gap in his jeans. There was a wet spot on his boxers and she groaned when she felt the pre-cum leaking from his cock. She peeled the material back.
It felt like a million years since he’d touched her. Filled her. And she ached to feel him fill her again.
His hands made quick work of her slim belt and she lifted to help him roll the corduroy pants past her hips. Her shoes thunked to the floor and her pants and underwear followed suit.
The material of his wide chair stuck to her as he pulled her forward. She opened willingly. He sheathed himself with the condom and tucked two fingers inside her. Her name was a soft curse as he tunneled deeper.
The curve of his fingers widened her, readied her and slid easily free. Whether it was endorphins or just being in the general vicinity of Ben, it didn’t seem to matter. She wanted him and her body was more than willing to cooperate.
Another thing she wasn’t used to. How was it that all it took was a look from him? She thought she was almost asexual before Ben. She never missed having a man in her life before. There was the store and there was her career. But now everything seemed to make less sense without Ben’s laughter.
She hooked her knees around his hips and drew him in. “Just you, Ben.”
He nodded and replaced his fingers with the blunt head of his shaft. His eyes seemed to grow ever deeper as he slid forward. Her lids wanted to close with each inch that he sank into her. But she forced herself to meet his gaze.
Fear clawed up her belly. Tears shimmered around the edges of her vision. He gripped her hips as he slowly rocked inside her. He looked down at them and so did she. Finally able to see how they fi
t. He disappeared inside her again and again. Her walls clutched and clasped at him. Every ridge and vein felt like he was marking her inside and out—making his place inside her body as well as her heart.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips until no air could come between them. She felt a twinge of pain from her fresh tattoo, but she didn’t let up on the pace or open acceptance of him inside her.
Her fingers tunneled through his hair to the top and his mouth latched on to hers as he swallowed her screams and the inevitable sobs that finally broke free. Locked around him, she tried to control the shudders. He only held on tighter and thrusted deeper inside her.
She heard the deep, guttural groan through her chest and into her mouth as he came. And in that one moment she wished for no barriers, even the condom to protect her. His name was a throaty moan as she finally let go.
Chapter Thirteen
Ben rolled onto his belly, but instead of finding a warm Darcy, he found cool sateen sheets. The last two weeks had been a series of juggling acts. Between Darcy’s schedule and his own, they had barely enough energy to snuggle into bed together. Sometimes they came together in a fiery passion in the middle of the night, sometimes it was a sweet, whisper-filled dance of skin.
But it was just skin and light small talk.
They were too tired for anything more than that.
The college kids were home for break and today was the last day for Brit’s class so he’d been doing double time on shop duty and Uncle Ben duty to keep the kiddo out of trouble. Today was the first day he and Darcy actually had off at the same time.
Which was why he was sleeping in her tiny queen-sized bed instead of dragging her over to his much more comfortable one last night. She’d promised him a little breakfast in bed and an entire day without plans.
He rolled onto his side, groaning at the clock. Six in the morning was only good for one thing—a long night of partying and going to bed when the sun was rising. He caught a flash of something in the hallway. He scooped up his jeans off the floor and half zipped them on his way through the door.