Repeat

by Scott, Kylie

  His gaze is distant, shut down. Like he’s already made up his mind and fuck what I think. So maybe it’s time to take this to the next level.

  “I liked it when you bit me.”

  “Clem . . .”

  “And I liked it when you slapped my pussy.”

  Hands on hips, he scowls. “We’re not talking about this anymore. I mean it.”

  “Being on top the first time was really good. But it was also hot as hell when you held me down the second time and just kind of made me take it, you know?” I shiver again at the thought, smiling not so shyly. “I came so hard I swear I saw stars. Then this morning, waking up with your hand between my legs . . .”

  A strangling noise comes from the hallway, followed by his brother saying, “Please make her stop.”

  “This is a private discussion,” I snap. “Go away, Leif.”

  Some muttering, then the door to the bathroom shuts. Serves him right for eavesdropping. Meanwhile, Ed is still standing there, jaw rigid, worry coming off of him in waves. I’m done with being reasonable.

  “Does it bother you that I’m not that pretty girl wearing floral prints who wants to have polite sex anymore?” I ask. “Because if that’s going to be an ongoing problem, we should probably talk about it now.”

  His gaze cuts to me. “Clem. We did not have polite sex.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Very,” the word is ground out in such a way that it might never recover. Finally, he tips his chin. “You’re driving me crazy on purpose, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” I rise from the chair, walking over to him and slipping my arms around his waist. “Ed, I won’t tolerate you thinking you’re some kind of bully or that I’m a delicate little flower. That isn’t fair to either of us, is it? Last night was special to me and I won’t allow it to be turned into something wrong or shameful because in retrospect you’re maybe a little uncomfortable with some elements.”

  “We didn’t used to have polite sex,” he grumbles because masculine pride clearly takes precedence over working on our relationship. Next his shoulders slump, hands sliding down my back, holding me to him. The worst of the fight is over.

  “Whatever you say. But if we both like things a little different now, is that really such a problem? I don’t want you second-guessing every thought and holding back. I like us the way we are now.”

  He wraps me up in his arms, holding on tight. Ever so gently, he kisses the mark on my neck. “You’ll tell me if you ever want me to stop or if you need things to calm down?”

  “Absolutely.”

  * * *

  “You had a fight about how rough you like sex?”

  I shrug. “Well, yeah. Basically.”

  “Kinky,” says Frances, the whites of her eyes on display. It’s late in the afternoon and she’s sitting on the couch in Braun’s Books eating some of the gelato Antonio brought around earlier. Ed was right about me hating coconut. The whole taste and texture of it is just gross. Hazelnut gelato, however, is awesome. You learn something new every day. Frances took me to my doctor’s appointment earlier. Despite the fact I could have easily gone on my own and all she did was sit in the waiting room. Pretty sure her and Ed are still texting behind my back, swapping babysitting duties so that I’m never alone. Still, it’s nice to get some sibling time.

  “Really, you think so?” I ask.

  “It’s not like you used to confide in me about your bedroom activities previously so I guess I can’t cast judgment.”

  “Though Ed’s reaction is telling, I guess.”

  My sister just nods.

  “Nothing wrong with a little slap and tickle so long as it’s consensual,” says Iris. She always knows what to say.

  “Exactly. Ed would never hurt me. The whole idea is ridiculous, and it pisses me off that he thinks I’m so fragile.”

  “Hmm. Maybe hold off on installing the sex swing until your doctor gives the okay for the really hardcore stuff, though.” Frances licks her little spoon. “Who do you think he used to have the wild monkey sex with?”

  “The doctor said I was fine and no idea.” I re-shelve another book. Customers abandon stock all over the shop. Returning things to their proper places is a daily job. “So long as the only person Ed’s biting and banging these days is me, does it matter?”

  “You’re not even curious?”

  “Sure. I want to know everything about him. But I don’t dwell on it or anything,” I say. “That would be incredibly stupid considering my jealousy is what did us in last time.”

  Iris smiles. “Sounds very sensible of you, Clementine. We all have a history, but it’s the here and now that’s important.”

  Detective Chen called earlier to talk to me about the paint on the shop front. He agreed that this incident along with my car getting trashed was concerning. But apart from advising me to be security conscious and not go places alone, there’s little they can say. As for my car, the insurance assessor has agreed to it being written off. To fix the damage to the body, paintwork, and windows would be more than the worth of the vehicle. Now we’re just waiting for the paperwork and then eventually for the money to come through. Everything takes time.

  “It’s quiet, this evening,” says Iris. “I should have told you not to worry about coming back after your appointment. Why don’t you finish up early and go do more dreadful things with that lovely man of yours?”

  It hasn’t escaped my notice that Iris always refers to Ed as lovely. Pretty sure my boss has a crush on my boyfriend. Can’t say I blame her.

  “He’ll still be at the parlor,” I say.

  Frances raises her head, the gelato all gone. “I can drop you off there on my way home if you like?”

  “Sure. Why not?” I head behind the counter to grab my bag. “I’ve never really seen him in his work environment, doing his thing. Well, apart from that one time when I first showed up and he wanted to throw me out.”

  “A few weeks ago, you mean?”

  “It’s been longer than that.” Just.

  When I arrive at the parlor, Tessa is finishing up with a client, smiling and shaking hands. Not sure I’ve ever seen her actually happy before, since whenever I see her she is always in the presence of a major source of personal angst. Namely, me. Of course, her warm smile makes her even more beautiful than normal. Today, the green velvet chaise lounge is empty. Makes sense given they’re getting close to finishing time. An old grandfather clock stands in the corner keeping time. Very vintage cool. Various drawings and pictures of tattoos hang framed on the otherwise pristine gray walls.

  Tessa’s smile dims slightly at the sight of me before she kind of reinforces it. It obviously doesn’t come easy, but at least she’s trying. “Clem. Hey, he’s out back.”

  “Thanks.”

  Leif is bent over one of the massage-table-type things they use, working on a woman’s calf muscle. She’s looking a bit green and has her eyes firmly averted, attention riveted on the posters on the far wall. Blood wells to the surface of her newly inked skin, and Leif wipes it away with an expert hand as he works. It’s easy to forget how much blood and pain must lie beneath the beauty and art in a place like this. Leif winks at me as I walk past. The sound of the tattoo gun is loud, but the music is louder. At the back of the shop, there’s a hallway with a bathroom on one side and an office/work space on the other. Here’s where I find Ed, seated at a table in front of a laptop. Shannon stands beside him, leaning in close, pointing at the screen. Any closer and her boobs will be touching him. In all honesty, I don’t see how standing quite so close is necessary.

  Annoyance shoots through me. Sad but true. And the feeling is every bit as dirty and unwanted as expected. But perhaps I’m being unreasonable, seeing things that aren’t there. After all, there’s my history to consider. Maybe this is how it started last time, innocuous interactions that I built up in my head and blew out of all proportion.

  I school my face into a pleasant smile. “Ed?”

&nb
sp; Immediately, Shannon takes a step back. Maybe she’d deliberately gotten too close. Though it might also be care of my previous reputation as a jealous bitch. The woman is, after all, possibly dating Leif. I’m pretty sure I’m overreacting and it’s not pretty.

  “Baby, hey. I didn’t know you were coming in.” He lights up at the sight of me. Fuck the green-eyed monster. This man is mine. I’m like ninety-nine percent sure of it. Nine-eight-point-five at worst. Still pretty good odds. The usual fluttery feeling in my belly and warmth in my loins kicks in at the sight of him. “Did Frances drop you over?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How’d it go at the doctor’s?”

  “All good,” I say, moving to stand beside him. His arm slides around my waist, drawing me closer. “Hi, Shannon.”

  “Hey.” Her smile is instantaneous. “We can talk about this later, Ed.”

  “Right,” he says, his gaze never leaving my face. “Is that all I get about the doctor’s, that it was all good?”

  “My recovery is going as well as can be expected. If there was anything important to tell you, I would.” I lean down, kissing him briefly on the mouth. “Promise.”

  “Okay. Give me some more of that,” he says, nodding at my mouth.

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  My mouth covers his, kissing him lightly, teasingly even. But he doesn’t tolerate it for long. Before I know it, I’m in his lap with his hands in my hair. His mouth devours me in the best way possible. The man kisses me stupid. Honest, my brain is long gone. I’m all hormones, my fingers fisted in his T-shirt.

  “Oh good God, at work?” A voice fills the room.

  Ed clears his throat. “Tessa.”

  “I’m heading off. Behave, children.”

  “Have a good night.”

  “Bye,” I say. Then, once I’m sure she’s gone, I whisper, “She almost sounded not completely in hate with me. It’s a miracle!”

  Ed just smiles. “Told you she’d come around.”

  “I thought I might get to see you doing some ink.”

  “Had a cancellation so I was just looking over some bookwork.”

  “Ah. By the way, I was wondering . . .”

  “Hmm?”

  “Would you be willing to do another tattoo for me sometime?” I ask, slipping my arms around his neck.

  “Of course. I can do it whenever you want. What are you thinking?”

  “You know how there’s the dogwood tree outside the condo? Maybe a branch of that with some flowers.”

  His gaze turns thoughtful. “Are you sure about that? Tattoos are awful permanent.”

  “I know.”

  “Okay, I just want you to be certain. Not all of our time there has been good, you know.”

  Hard not to wonder if the unspoken thought there is that we may not last. But it’s not like I’m asking him to tattoo his name on my forehead. I do have some limits.

  “I know. It’ll always be an important part of my life, though,” I say. “Besides, I think the flowers are pretty.”

  “Where do you want it?”

  “Below the violets?”

  “Sounds good.” He nods. “Pity you’ve got your self-defense class tonight or I could get started on it for you now.”

  “I could miss a class.”

  His brows rise. “You’re serious about this?”

  “Very. If you don’t mind. I mean, you’ve been here all day. If you’re not in the mood . . .”

  “Working on you is not a chore, Clem.” Suddenly enthused about the idea, he pats me on the butt, easing me off his lap. “Let me get something down on paper and you can see what you think.”

  It doesn’t take him long and I love watching him work. The man is an extraordinarily talented artist. Something I already knew, but seeing him in action is still mind-blowing. His final drawing is perfect. Exactly what I had in mind.

  “You’re absolutely sure about this?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest.

  “I’m sure.”

  A nod. “All right. Shirt off and lie down on the table.”

  “Why do I need to take my shirt off? It’s short-sleeved.” I ease it up over my head regardless, handing it to him so he can hang it over the back of the chair.

  “It’ll be in the way.”

  This doesn’t entirely make sense since the violets cover my shoulder and this will be going lower on my upper arm, but whatever. He’s the expert and we’re in a private room out back of the parlor so it’s not like me and my bra will be on view. Though lucky I wore a nice black lace number as opposed to plain old cotton. Because making a good impression is always important.

  I climb onto the table, getting comfortable, and trying not to wonder how painful it might be, or whether I’ll turn the same pallid shade of green as the girl getting her calf done. Next, the drawing is traced and turned into a sticker which he carefully places against my skin after shaving any hairs from the area and applying lotion. He’s wearing gloves now. Once I okay the position, he pulls over a little stool on wheels and sets up the tattoo gun. This involves a rubber band and him selecting inks to go into little caps since I’m leaving him in charge of colors.

  “What’s going on?” asks Leif, arriving in as the gun starts up. “Nice bra.”

  “Clem’s getting another tattoo and you keep your damn eyes off her.” Ed is the picture of concentration.

  “I’ll have you know that once a client is in the chair, I am the very picture of professionalism,” Leif objects, his voice haughty. “Is that lace edging?”

  Ed’s frown deepens. “Ready, baby?”

  I nod.

  The first touch of the needle is a bit of a shock and it does hurt a little. It’s like a sort of cutting feeling as he does the outline. But the area soon numbs, and I relax.

  “Okay?” he asks.

  “Yes. Are you finished for the day, Leif?”

  “Yeah, Shannon and I are heading out for dinner.”

  “Is this a first date sort of thing? How exciting.”

  He just winks. “We’ll close up as we head out. Have fun, you two.”

  A grunt of acknowledgment from my beloved. His lips are set in a distinctly pissy line. “He shouldn’t have been looking at your chest.”

  “You’re the one who made me take my shirt off for no reason.”

  Now a small smile appears. He’s so devious in his own sweet way. “That was for me. Not for him.”

  “Well lock the door next time.”

  “I will.”

  “Can’t believe you lied to me.”

  “What?” He raises a brow. “I said it would be in the way, and it would be in the way. Of my view.”

  My eyes narrow.

  “Well, you lied to me about letting Gordon sleep on the futon.”

  I just smile.

  The added benefit of getting another piece of art from Ed on my skin is getting to watch him uninterrupted. Since the tattoo is roughly the span of my hand, it does take a couple of hours. He works seamlessly, interspersing the tattoo gun with a wipe of a paper cloth and some more of the ointment to apparently keep the skin moist and slow the flow of any blood.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks me at some stage.

  “Um, how did we meet? You never told me that story.”

  He swallows, thinking it over. “Once upon a time, a very charming prince did the banking once a week. And this very charming prince, well he had a thing for one of the women who worked there. There was just something about her . . .”

  “I like this story.”

  “Me too,” he says.

  “So what did the very charming prince do?”

  “Ah, well . . . the prince didn’t want to come off as some asshole harassing her in her workplace. So he took his time chatting to her, getting to know her a little more each visit. Of course, he had to start doing the banking more often for security reasons, you know?”

  “Sounds legit.”

  “That’s right,” he says. “And actua
lly, before the prince could find his balls and figure out a way to ask her on a date that wasn’t sleazy, he saw her out one night. She was with her friends at a bar not too far from her work. Some going-away party for someone.”

  “Huh.”

  “So the prince just happened to bump into her and they got to talking. A funny thing happened, the prince forgot all about his friends and the girl forgot all about her workmates—”

  “Why do you get to be the prince and I’m only the girl?”

  “Sorry. The princess forgot all about hanging out with her friends and they talked for hours and hours.”

  “What about?”

  “Everything and anything. We just talked. It was like we were in our own little world, just the two of us together. And by the time it occurred to us to check on our respective friends, they’d all disappeared. I mean, they’d texted us. But we were obviously very into each other and they hadn’t wanted to interrupt. It wasn’t like we’d been worrying about checking our phones, what with us being so caught up in talking to each other.” When he meets my eyes, his gaze is tender. This is obviously a happy memory. “It was late, really late. So we swapped numbers and I asked you about having dinner with me a couple of nights later and you said yes. Then I walked you to your car.”

  “Did we kiss?”

  “No, we didn’t kiss until the end of our first date.”

  “When did we start having sex?”

  “Second date. I made you dinner at my place. Told my roommate to get the hell out and not come back until as late as humanly possible.” Now his smile turns vaguely wicked. It’s a thrilling thing to see. “My poor baby. You couldn’t keep your hands off me any longer. And there was no way I was keeping mine to myself.”

  “Sounds sensible. A princess can’t be expected to perform superhuman feats of restraint all the time.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Can I ask another question?”

  He nods. “Go for it.”

  “What’s it like to love someone?”

  His gaze meets mine for a moment before returning to his work. “That must be strange for you, not having feelings for anyone.”

  “Some have developed. I’m not completely unemotional . . . these days at least.”