Gentleman Sinner

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  “You’re getting another tattoo?” It never occurred to me before now, when a pair of metal handcuffs are clanging in Stan’s hands, to wonder how someone managed to ink Theo without having their head ripped off. “He’s going to cuff you?”

  “Damn straight I am.” Stan laughs as Theo gets on the black chair. “I’m brave, but I’m not that brave.”

  Theo gives him a tired look, pulling his T-shirt up over his head and casting it aside. “Here,” he says, pointing to his left pec.

  “Over the heart.” Stan inspects the taut skin of Theo’s chest, slipping on some glasses. “Cute.”

  “Stop talking.” Theo rests back in the chair, the insane muscles of his torso rippling as he goes, and raises his arms over his head, draping them over the back of the chair.

  Stan holds the cuffs up to Theo and waits for a nod before rounding him and locking them over his wrists and through a metal bar on the back. “Okay?” he asks once he’s done, standing back. A swift yank from Theo demonstrates the security of his arms. “Hey, don’t break my chair.”

  “You’d rather I break your neck?” Theo retorts.

  “Fair point.” Stan pulls on some rubber gloves, snapping the latex around each wrist for effect. The sharp sound makes me flinch as I sit as quiet as a mouse in the corner, watching in fascination. Stan gets to work quietly, laying a piece of tracing paper over Theo’s pec, making his jaw quickly tense as Stan’s eyes become noticeably very wary. “All right?” he asks.

  “Just get on with it.” Theo closes his eyes and breathes in, though I know he’s not bracing himself for the pain that is soon to come. He’s bracing himself for Stan’s touch.

  I inch forward on my chair, trying to see what Stan is outlining on Theo’s skin, but it’s impossible when Stan leans in, getting up close and personal with Theo’s big chest. I scowl to myself, frustrated and intrigued by what tattoo he could be getting. More religious symbols? Maybe a prayer to match the praying hands, huge cross, and rosary beads. He said they’re there to remind him that he’s broken God’s rules. It’s a little backward, if you ask me, since Theo isn’t showing any signs of changing that. I’m certain God wouldn’t condone holding a man at gunpoint. Theo has done some terrible things. I swallow and sit back, my eyes on the man who has stolen my heart. Is that a crime? Is it bad that I’ve fallen for him? I ponder that over and over as Stan works, not even getting close to reaching a conclusion. Can something be terrible and wonderful at the same time?

  Once Stan’s finished tracing the outline, he sits back and indicates for Theo to look. And once Theo’s given a sharp nod of approval, I’m once again trying to crane my neck and get a peek, to no avail. The high-pitched buzzing sound of the mechanical needle kicks in, and Stan slowly moves in to Theo’s chest, pulling his already taut skin tauter. There’s a flinch from Theo, accompanied by the clang of the cuffs against the metal bar on the back of the chair. It makes Stan recoil slightly, his hands coming away from Theo’s chest as it expands on a deep inhale. The sharp buzzing stops.

  “We good, man?” Stan asks, watching him closely.

  I look to Theo, just as his eyes meet mine. His face is blank, but his rough jaw is tight, and in this moment, I realize he’s sought me out to stabilize himself. His chest deflates slowly and his breathing falls into a smooth, easy flow. “We’re good,” he confirms, keeping his eyes on me as he rests the side of his face on the inside of his big arm.

  I smile, relaxing a little in the knowledge that he’s siphoning his calm from me. I’m soothing him. Will that become a consistent thing in our relationship? Can it be? I love the thought of being his peace. Of feeding him the calm he needs.

  The buzzing kicks in again, and I keep my gaze glued to Theo’s as Stan resumes work, at the same time thinking about helping him. I’m back to therapy. He needs therapy. Would he consider that? For me?

  There’s not one more flinch from Theo. Stan works easily while I maintain my connection with Theo, knowing it’s helping him. I lose track of time, my focus stolen by the stallion of a man staring at me like I’m the only thing in this room. Because to him, I am.

  “Done,” Stan declares, rubbing a tissue over the area and sitting back, his head cocked to the side as he inspects his work. “Simple but effective, I guess.” He places his tools on the table and takes a pot of Vaseline. “Happy?”

  Theo looks down at his chest, lifting his head from the chair. “Perfect,” he confirms.

  Stan smears a dollop of petroleum jelly across the area and grabs a square piece of gauze. I’m rising from my chair mechanically, moving closer, eager to finally get a glimpse of the design Theo chose. But Stan has covered the area already.

  I pout like a little girl. “When do I get to see?” I ask, not bothering to hide my disappointment. He brought me along to help him, and I don’t even get to see it?

  Stan moves back, pulling off his gloves as Theo rattles the cuffs, a silent order for me to free him. “Later,” he tells me, and I scowl at him. He’s restrained. I could peel away that tape and look, and there would be nothing he could do about it. I eye the large rectangular padding on his chest, nibbling my lip. “Don’t even think about it, Izzy,” Theo warns, jerking his hands again. “Come here.”

  My nose wrinkles in irritation as I obey, moving around the back of the chair. I show him my hands and wait for him to nod before I flip the lever on each handcuff, freeing him. He sits up, rubbing at his wrists and rolling some life back into his shoulders, while Stan raises the blind at the window, revealing the waiting room full of people again. I wander over and scan the area, seeing other rooms leading off the space, most with the doors open, showing people in chairs being inked. “Is this your shop?” I ask Stan over my shoulder.

  “Certainly is.” He joins me by the window. “The part out there is for your average Joes. I only work on private clients.”

  I nod, looking around at the variety of people sitting and waiting. Some look like hard-core ink fans, arms and legs covered, and others look like they don’t know if they really want to be here. A young girl catches my eye, holding her friend’s hand tightly as she points out a small heart in a folder being shown to her by a heavily pierced guy crouched before her. She looks terrified. Stan must see my line of sight, because he starts chuckling. “Addiction is the only danger,” he says, and I look at him, his profile clear and free from ink until he turns toward me, revealing the other side of his face. “It’s just for effect.” He winks, and I laugh.

  “It works.” I return my attention to the waiting room beyond the glass, hearing the soft pound of Theo’s stride approaching behind me. “I might get one,” I muse, smiling to myself.

  His chest meets my back and his mouth meets my ear. “I’ll hold your hand,” he whispers. “What would you have?”

  I ponder that for a few moments, leaning back into him. “I don’t know. Maybe something like Stan’s.”

  Theo chuckles softly and Stan belts out a roar of a laugh. “I don’t have a death wish, Izzy. You can source another artist if you plan on ruining that pretty face.”

  I grin from ear to ear…but the grin plummets when a lone man across the shop catches my eye. My blood runs cold, my body locking up against Theo.

  No.

  No, it can’t be.

  I blink, trying to breathe steadily, trying to clear my vision, which is being hampered by relentless flashbacks. When that doesn’t work, I close my eyes. But that doesn’t stop the visions, either. I look out the window again, and the sight of him robs me of breath. His face, sharp and pointy, hasn’t changed one bit.

  He’s here.

  Oh God.

  I spin around without thinking, nearly meeting Theo’s bare chest face-first, panic preventing me from playing it cool.

  “What is it?” Theo’s bent and in my face quickly, his worried eyes searching mine. I just stare at him, my face undoubtedly a picture of dread. “Izzy?”

  I grab some reason amid my chaos, pushing back the memories that are am
bushing me and bringing my nasty past into my present. “Nothing.” I shake my head, praying the bastard doesn’t look up from his phone and see me through the window, while simultaneously praying that Theo doesn’t force me into explaining. “It’s hot in here,” I mumble, naturally skirting past Theo so I don’t touch him. And not just because I shouldn’t touch him. I don’t want him to feel my trembles. “I just need some air.” My pace is steady but shaky as I leave Theo and Stan behind, breaking out into the garden at the back. I shut the door to Stan’s studio and drink in valuable air, struggling to calm my racing heart. “He didn’t see me,” I tell myself, blowing out air loudly. Damn it, why is he here? I’m hundreds of miles away from my past.

  I stagger forward with a startled yelp when the door behind me opens abruptly, and Theo appears, looking no less concerned than when I scampered away. Pulling myself together is of paramount importance before I clue Theo in to what’s got me all jumpy and anxious. I’ll never be able to explain without going into the sordid details. Theo will lose it. I can’t say that I wouldn’t like to see the nasty bastard in pain, but I also don’t want my past being dredged up. I don’t want Theo to know what he did. It’s shameful, disgusting. Unthinkable.

  But amid the chaos of my mind, I manage to note something. My fear is more about having to tell Theo about my horrid past, rather than fear of what that man might do to me, how he might hurt me again. Because I’m stronger now, I know I am. And because with Theo by my side, he can’t touch me. But Theo can touch him. And crush him. Possibly even kill him. Possibly?

  “Hey,” I squeak, swallowing and straightening my spine. I’m fooling myself. I’m spooked, and he knows it.

  “What’s going on?” His T-shirt is in his hand, and he’s in no rush to put it on.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” I divert my gaze from his magnificent chest, looking as guilty as I sound.

  He growls. “Either tell me what’s got you behaving like a frightened animal, or I’ll go back in there and find out for myself.”

  Panic makes a feast of me, eating me up from the inside out as I face Theo. “I just want to go.” I reach for him without warning, and he catches my hand, holding it tightly. It’s comforting me, but it’s also warning me.

  His lips straighten and his neck muscles bulge from the strain of his clenched teeth. “Don’t make me go back in there, Izzy.”

  My bottom lip begins to quiver, annoying tears brimming in my eyes. The sight of me in such a state obviously tips him over the edge, and he whirls around, fighting to get his T-shirt on as he steams back into Stan’s private studio. “Theo!” I yell, rushing after him. “Theo, please!” I go to grab him, but my mind stops me, telling me that his growing rage will hinder his awareness of me. I break into a sprint and overtake him, slamming my back into the door that will take him into the waiting area, blocking his way. “Please,” I gasp, shaking my head as I look across to Stan. He’s observing quietly, probably wondering if Theo is about to destroy his shop in a temper.

  “Talk to me, Izzy,” Theo demands, placing a palm against the wood beside my head. “Now.”

  Closing my eyes, I search for the strength I need to unravel my tangled thoughts and figure out what to do for the best. “I’ll tell you,” I breathe, deciding the promise of information is the best way to coax Theo away.

  I haven’t seen him for nearly ten years, and if I’m lucky, I won’t ever again. I just need to get Theo out of here before he makes my presence known to the bastard or I’m forced to explain. “Just not here and now.” I open my eyes and let him see the pleading in them. “When we get back to your place, I’ll tell you.”

  His nostrils flare, and he glances out the window. Theo knows there’s someone in that room I’m distressed to see. He knows he wants to do that person damage, even before he knows why I’m so upset.

  I wait, anxious, and after a few tense moments, Theo pushes off the door and seems to realign himself. He seems to. But I know him, and I know it’s taking everything in him not to barge into the waiting room and hunt down what’s spooked me. “Let’s go.” He turns and strides out, leaving me to follow, like if he delays his escape, he might change his mind and do serious damage.

  “Good luck,” Stan says on a sympathetic, nervous laugh.

  “Thanks.” My nerves are totally frayed as I follow my big, highly tense man back to the car, the silence agonizing. I settle in the passenger seat of Theo’s Bentley and look straight ahead, avoiding the pulsing body next to mine.

  He curses under his breath and starts the car, pulling out of the space with a roar of the engine and speeding off down the road. His mood only reinforces my decision to get him away from my past so there’s no chance of it tarnishing my present. I want to pretend that part of me doesn’t exist.

  The drive back to Theo’s home is long and difficult. He’s wound up like a tight spring, and I fear the damage he could do if the resistance gives and he lets loose.

  Jefferson looks surprised when he meets us under the canopied drive, but he lets Theo guide me past without a word. The housemaid isn’t waiting in the entrance hall with his drink, ready to take his coat, and the two big dudes who always flank the door are missing. I’m led up the stairs, into his private quarters, and the door is virtually slammed behind us.

  “Talk,” he demands harshly, pointing to the couch in order for me to sit.

  “I’m not telling you a thing,” I retort, turning my back on a shocked face and walking away. Call me sly, call me bang out of line, I don’t care. I’m not telling him, not only because I fear the repercussions when he hunts down the man who nearly destroyed me, but because I never want to think about it ever again. And I don’t want Theo to know about my horrid past.

  “Izzy!” Theo’s booming voice causes me to flinch as I enter his bedroom, making me swing the door with more force than I intended to. It slams, making the walls shake as I run across to the bathroom, knowing he’ll be coming after me. As I turn to shut the door, I just catch sight of his raging face. He looks every bit as frightening as most perceive him to be.

  I flip the lock and stand back, waiting for the inevitable banging as I try to catch a breath. But there’s no bang. Theo walks right on in, the force of his shoulder making the lock ping off in surrender, with no scream of protest. His heaving frame fills the doorway as I move back. I’m not scared. Not of him and his threatening, hulking presence. I’m scared that I’m going to be forced into sharing something I don’t want to share. And I’m scared that he’ll drop me like filth if he knows.

  “You said you would tell me.” He grinds the words out, pointing an accusing finger at me.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Izzy, just tell me.” His entire torso expands with his deep breath of patience. “Otherwise, I’m left imagining all kinds of shit, and I don’t like any of it.”

  And that’s just one more reason to keep my mouth shut. So I shake my head.

  “Damn it, Izzy!” He marches toward me and seizes my arms, and I cower, my chin dropping to my chest, hiding my building tears. “Tell me what the fuck happened to you before I lose my fucking mind.” He gives me a small shake, further emphasizing his frustration.

  I can’t help it—tears fall from my eyes, landing in big splashes on the bathroom floor. I’m angry I’m crying. Angry I’m giving my emotions to that scumbag. I’m angry he’s affecting me like this.

  Theo moves his hands to my neck and tilts my head back, forcing me to face him. His angry cobalt eyes take me in, softening by the second. “Shit,” he curses, yanking me into him and giving me a bone-crushing cuddle. The sanctuary and comfort of his big chest overwhelms me, and all I can do is cling to him. Hold him. Remind myself that I have him. My feet leave the floor and my legs curl around his waist, searching for more security. I feel untouchable in his embrace. I fear nothing, except for how deeply Theo is penetrating my heart, working his way soul-deep into me.

  But most of all, I fear how much I like him there. And
how much I need him.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs into the soft, sensitive space beneath my earlobe. I cling tighter in response, constricting the muscles in my arms and legs. He drops to his knees, holding me in place, and starts to pull his face from the crook of my neck, kissing his way over my ear and onto my cheek. “I won’t force you.” Finding my lips, he kisses me reverently, fisting my hair possessively but gently. His shoulders are locked in my arms, keeping him as close as possible to me as I meet his tongue.

  And we stay there, on the bathroom floor, lost in each other for several minutes, kissing, holding, and calming each other. It’s peaceful, all stress and anxiety being gradually chased away.

  “Look at me,” he orders, moving a fingertip to my chin and breaking our kiss. When he has my eyes, he smiles sadly. It’s a smile of defeat. It’s a sad smile of realization, because he knows I’m never going to share my burden with him. “I care too much about you,” he affirms, leaning in and kissing my cheek. “I just want to keep you safe. And it kills me when you’re upset. But I won’t push you if you don’t want me to. I can forget my needs if it’s what you need. Anything for you, Izzy. Am I making myself clear? You come first.”

  I nod, grateful and relieved, so needing to hear him say that. He’s got a hold of his rage. He’s realized what’s important, and my past is not.

  Theo stands, lifting me with him, and carries us to his bed. I only release him when he collects my arms from behind his neck, and I do it begrudgingly. I sit against the headboard as he settles on his knees before me. “Let me show you something,” he says, pulling his T-shirt up over his head. The large piece of protective gauze virtually covers his entire pec, and it is one big pec.

  I watch as he picks at the corner of the tape and starts to pull it away, revealing reddened skin, slick with greasy jelly. Then the scroll of letters begin to reveal themselves, from right to left, so I’m forced to read it backward. I tilt my head, sinking my teeth into my lip.