Love and Tattoos Read online

  She left before he could say anything else. He wasn’t sure if he’d won or if he’d only managed to up the ante. He was playing with fire and if he fucked it up, he’d lose any shot he had with Annie, and Joe would kick his ass. Annie was special and Brax had no interest in hurting her.

  He hadn’t exaggerated when he’d told her that she seemed lost. He wanted to help her find herself again and in the process, he wanted her to find him.

  Brax picked up his food and tea. He needed to get back to the tattoo parlor, relieve Beth for a bit so she could get something to eat too before their first evening appointments showed up.

  Returning the way he’d come, Brax was thankful the sun had dropped below the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. Around the next corner on the next block was the employee entrance to Love and Tattoos.

  Granted, it had a bit of feminine feel to it, romance and all that, but there was truth in the name of the parlor as well. Love went hand in hand with tattoos for most people. Once ink settled into their skin, they couldn’t get enough. They’d save, scraping together every penny they could find in couch cushions and between car seats until they at least had enough to get started on a new piece of art.

  He loved his job. Every hour, every minute, every second of it. His fingers were permanently ink stained and his brain was full of designs. Well, full of designs for tattoos…and designs on Annie.

  Chapter Two

  Annie stood outside her current place of employment, her brother’s business. Brax’s too. Love and Tattoos. It was so far removed from the company she’d spent the last several years working for. It was small, casual, fun. She was free to be as creative as she dared, free to dress however she liked, just…free. And that unnerved her.

  The light in the back of the shop was on, but those up front and in the studio were off. Brax was in there, somewhere, waiting for her to show up.

  Just the idea that he was waiting for her made her stomach flutter and her palms sweat, despite the temperatures dropping outside

  He said he wanted her. Could that be true?

  Brax with his tattoos, his piercings, his smile, his laugh… He also said she avoided him, treated him differently and that really was true. Seeing him every day, when everything about her future and the recent control over it that she’d taken, seemed uncertain, Brax felt like home.

  She hadn’t realized that about him until she’d spent years away.

  A breeze blew and made her shiver slightly. She had a key and could walk in any time she was ready. For the moment though, she was content where she was.

  She drew a corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. Okay, so maybe content wasn’t the right word. She hated to admit it, even to herself, that she hadn’t been content for far too many months. Looking, watching, standing off to the side, letting everything happen around her.

  But that wasn’t the definition of content. That was the definition of wallflower. And Annie had never been accused of that.

  The lock slipped free when she turned the key, and she pushed the door open. She heard Brax before she saw him, but when he came into view, she couldn’t move. She could only stare.

  He was the epitome of free, the picture of content. He was happy where he was in life and she was so in love with him and all he represented that it was hard to breathe sometimes.

  He hadn’t seen her standing in the shadows yet. She took those undiscovered moments to look her fill, the way she’d been unable to earlier outside the deli. Small tables and chairs, benches too, had been arranged along the wide expanse of walkways in front of downtown shops. She’d spent a lot of time just breathing in the fresh air, taking in the vibrancy of the area, willing herself back into it being herself.

  Brax joining her as she doodled had caught her off guard and she’d shown it by acting like an idiot. Truth was she’d been over the moon having him all to herself for a bit.

  And while she wasn’t sure this visit tonight was such a good idea, she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to spend a little more time with him.

  He stood in the doorway of the office folding towels. Classical music floated from the sound system. Looking at him and hearing the music he loved… The two didn’t mesh, yet worked together somehow.

  He had fiery red scruff and his hair was cut incredibly short. He wore an ear gauge in one lobe and a black pearl and diamond stud in the other. His piercing green eyes that she imagined were the same shade as the Irish hills in summer, never missed anything.

  Then, of course, there was his ink.

  Down his arms, and down his legs. He wore gray camo cargo pants that hid the bright tattoos covering his left leg from thigh to ankle, but she could still make out the ink on the top of his right foot from under the hem. He rarely wore shoes other than flip flops unless it was too cold to do otherwise and one in the morning was no different.

  The dark blue t-shirt fit snug but not tight across his chest and she could still see the definition of his abs under it. Inked sleeves drew her gaze. One arm was covered in skulls, some black and white, some brightly shaded. His other arm, down to his fingers were swirls and abstract shapes, with crosses dotted throughout.

  There were many other tattoos as well and at last count between him and her brother, Brax had more.

  He was the rough edge, street kind of gorgeous. He wasn’t like anyone she’d dated during her stint in the corporate world, but he was definitely the man she’d been thinking of when buying vibrators and batteries over the years.

  And he wanted to help her find her spark again. She’d be stupid to turn him down, but that didn’t mean she had to make it easy for him.

  He thought her art needed spark and in some ways it did. What really needed the fire lit though, was her soul, her mind, her creative side. Being around him made her feel alive in ways being around others didn’t.

  She didn’t feel content around him, nor wallflower-like. No, she felt pretty, sexy… Happy.

  “You should turn the music down,” she called out. “You never know who might wander in.”

  “Well, if anyone just wanders in, they’ll have been breaking windows. Look at you. You’re here.”

  His bright smile nearly undid her. She wanted to be the woman who had the right to kiss that smile. Maybe she would be. “Of course I’m here. I couldn’t resist the challenge.”

  He held up a finger and disappeared into the office. She could barely hear the music when he returned. The towel he’d held before was gone too.

  He walked toward her. “How long have you been home?”

  Annie shrugged. “About six months, I guess.”

  “And other than coming to the shop, going to grab coffee, and going home, what have you been doing?”

  “Do I need to clear my calendar with you now?” She was proud that she’d kept the sharpness out of her voice.

  “Humor me.”

  “I’ve been busy.” When he didn’t look appeased, she heaved an impatient sigh. “So I don’t have a social life,” she said defensively. “It’s not a crime.”

  Brax shook his head. “Fair enough.”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Worried about you, that’s all.”

  Annie immediately softened. “It’s sweet of you. Really, it is. But I’m fine. I promise. I’ve just been trying to get my bearings again, to figure out what I wanted to do, who I am outside the person I tried to be for all those years.”

  “All those years…” He laughed. “You’re still young, babe. Corporate companies can make you feel old, a shell of your former self to the point you live for them and not for you. Been there.”

  “Yes but as we established before, yours didn’t kick you to the curb.” There was a still a twinge in her stomach when she thought about it. While corporate life may not have fit her completely, or at all, if she were really honest with herself about it, getting laid off sucked. Her confidence had been at an all time low at first, and getting it back hadn’t been as easy as she hoped it would be.
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  “No, they didn’t,” Brax agreed. “I stepped off the curb all on my own.”

  “Exactly. There’s a difference.”

  “There is, but getting back to your old self doesn’t have to be a minefield.”

  “What are you proposing?”

  “A little game. I show you that I know small but essential things about you, important things, and for each right answer, you have to give me an article of clothing from your body.”

  Annie’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened. “What?” The word squeaked out.

  “I believe I was quite clear.”

  She swallowed hard and tried to keep her cool. She wasn’t sure she could pull it off. “Yes, but… S-strip? Like Twenty Questions?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Joe would never go for this.” That thought sobered her and calmed her racing heart.

  “No,” Brax said calmly. “But this isn’t about Joe. It’s about you. And me.”

  “He’ll kick your ass if he ever finds out you so much as thought about me naked.” Not that she cared at this point. She was giddy inside. Brax had thought about her naked. She’d thought about him naked. And now he was proposing they get naked.

  God. It was as though she’d never had sex before given the way her belly was flipping over itself, the way her sex throbbed between her thighs, the way her nipples pebbled against the soft silky fabric of her bra.

  Brax nodded. “Yes, he will. You’re worth every right hook.”

  “Does this have anything to do with that comment you made this afternoon about wanting me?”

  “It has everything to do with it.”

  “What kind of want?”

  “Do you want me to tell you or do you need me to show you?”

  “S-show?”

  Brax took several steps toward her. When he stopped, he was near enough that his breath fanned her face, teased the edges of her hair. “Are you asking?”

  “No,” she whispered. He was going to kiss her. He was that close and he was going to kiss her. Heat radiated off his body as he inched forward until his chest brushed hers. She was afraid to breathe, afraid to move, to speak. She didn’t want to break the spell. “Y-you smell like Red Bull,” she blurted in a hushed tone.

  Okay. So much for not speaking.

  He chuckled and pulled her in tight with an arm around her back. He lowered his head and kissed her mouth hard. There was no lingering of lips. There was no tongue action. But the warmth of his touch, his unyielding hold was like a brand she felt all the way to her toes. “A-and what if you get something wrong?”

  “Then I have to strip too.”

  “What happens when the game is over?”

  “There are several possibilities and only a few certainties.”

  Annie licked her lips. “Which are?”

  “Do you want the certainties or the possibilities?”

  “Both.” She was surprised she could keep up a conversation and a pretty solid train of thought in their present positions of being pressed against one another. He was hard inside his pants and it took all her self-control not to push into his erection.

  “All right. Well, the possibilities are total nudity, and fucking.” He said it so casually, so easily he could have been telling her what he’d had for lunch, but as he talked, he’d lifted his free hand to caress her face, to trace the lines of her jaw. He was also walking them backward, into the light of the office and out of the shadows. His eyes, when she got a good look at them were dark and heavy-lidded. If she’d thought he was gorgeous before… Dear heavens, he was devastating now.

  “And the certainties?”

  How could things have turned so quickly? She’d come in thinking they’d talk for a bit, clear the air of whatever he felt was wrong. Now though, she couldn’t think beyond wanting to get to the fucking he’d mentioned. The wall behind him looked like a good place to start. Or, maybe on his desk in the corner of the office with her legs draped over his shoulders. Any position would work. She wouldn’t be picky.

  “Partially naked and you getting inked by me.”

  “Why do you want to ink me?”

  “Because of the pain, the pleasure, the addiction. Because of the love, the eroticism of being tattooed. I want to remind you of what it’s like to feel all of that, all at one time. I want you wearing my ink.”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” she whispered, dropping her head against him. “At least not all the way.”

  “No? When was the last time you gave yourself over to someone, to something that consumed you?” He didn’t wait for an answer, he simply kept talking. “I want you,” he said, matching her whisper. “This is good, this feeling of you in my arms, your softness against me. I wanted you before you came home, but it’s overwhelming now, and to see you looking lost and unsure sometimes… Trust me to show you. Trust me to show you how to laugh, how to have fun, let go, and trust yourself again.”

  “Kiss me, Brax.”

  But she took the choice out of his hands. She lifted her head, turned toward his face, and captured his lips. His tongue slipped in and tangled with hers, quickly taking over. Annie gave into it, gave into him, and savored the taste and feel of Brax’s mouth.

  She clung to him when he slowly pulled away. The lick of his tongue against her lips tempted her to nip at him. He grinned when she followed her desire and teased her by returning the nips.

  “I can give as good as I get. I can also give as much as you think you can take.”

  Annie smiled. “I understand.”

  “Good.”

  “Okay,” she said, easing out his hold. It was almost painful and her body temperature dropped instantly. “Since you claim to know me, you start.”

  Brax settled himself on the corner of Joe’s desk and planted his feet flat on the floor. “Let’s ease you into this. How about coffee? You take it light to medium roast now, even flavored. You used to drink dark roast, the darker the better. You still prefer it, only you’re stuck in your more recent habits of falling in line.”

  “Oh come on. I don’t see how that’s relevant. Tastes change.”

  “Not your taste in coffee. Maybe other people’s tastes in it change, but not you. You turned up your nose at anything but dark roast. Wouldn’t touch it. Remember that one year in college? Joe brought you a new coffee pot and enough high octane coffee to keep the entire dorm buzzing. You didn’t change until you got out of college.”

  “Tastes change,” she insisted. “Besides, I’m not the only coffee drinker here. Your argument is invalid and weak. You lose this round.”

  “Beth drinks nothing but cherry soda.” Brax held up his hand and ticked names off on his fingers. “Greg and I drink those energy drinks you think are disgusting and taste like cough syrup. Joe only drinks water. Amber drinks espresso without fail. So honey, you’re the reason there is any kind of coffee in this place. You prefer dark roast with half and half. No sugar.”

  It really wasn’t worth continuing. He had her dead to rights on this one. “Fine. I’ll give you coffee. I did conform. I didn’t want to, but I did want to fit in. Honestly though, light and medium are just gross. It’s like drinking watery coffee. When I found someone had stocked the cabinet with what I like, I was so happy.”

  “You can buy it for yourself, you know? No one cares. No one in your life, before or after that ad agency, who really gives a crap about you, would care what kind of coffee you had.”

  “I know. I just… I was thrilled to have the opportunity at my job. I wanted them to like me. I didn’t want to make mistakes or do anything that would get me looked at oddly. And I know it’s seems strange to alter my choice in coffee to fit into an office, but…” She wasn’t sure how to explain it. “I couldn’t bring coffee in. Our client wasn’t a local company and if the agency was anything, it was loyal to the companies that signed with us. The coffee client provided our office with as much coffee as we wanted. The majority of people who drank coffee, drank medium, so th
at’s what was stocked.”

  “And you couldn’t ask for dark?”

  “I was new. I didn’t want to rock the boat or do something wrong by asking. Crazy, huh?”

  “No. I get it. You don’t have to worry about that anymore. I buy you dark roast coffee because I know you like it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Brax inclined his head. “So, I won that one, right?”

  “Yes. You know what and how I like my coffee. I’m not even sure Joe knows how I take it.”

  “I also know you use different cups. On rainy days, you use the black cup. On bright, sunny days, you use the yellow one. On your birthday, you use the pink one.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s a habit.”

  “I bet it is. Now, since I won, I need your shirt, please.”

  “Shouldn’t it be shoes?”

  “You’re wearing flip flops. Those don’t count, and neither does stalling. Your shirt, please.”

  Brax held his hand out and Annie stood rooted to the spot, staring at his palm. That hand had touched her, held her with tenderness, with strength, and was patiently waiting for her to turn over the shirt off her back.

  She’d agreed to this. She could do it. More importantly, she wanted to do it.

  With unsteady fingers, Annie gripped the hem of her shirt, took a fortifying breath, and lifted it off over her head before she had time to talk herself out of it completely. Brax grunted, low in his throat, took the garment from her, and set it behind him on the desk, out of her reach.

  The air in the room chilled her skin, but Brax’s laser stare warmed her. He hadn’t blinked yet. He hadn’t moved again either. He simply sat on the edge of the desk, his gaze glued to her upper body.

  Annie smiled because something about being able to render him speechless, motionless gave her confidence to continue their little game. “My turn,” she said.

  Brax’s lips lifted slightly at the corners and he met her gaze. “Bring it, little girl.” The challenge gave his voice a tough, unyielding edge and the sneer she leveled at him was playful in its intent.

  “You have almost a hundred tattoos,” she remarked.