Tattoo Lust: A Tattoo Romance Collection

by Skyla Madi

  He stands up and moves his chair next to me, blocking me from anyone’s view before he throws his suit jacket over my shoulders. “There, now no one can see your inappropriate dress.” I try to move my chair a little away from him, but he continues before I can. “And can I just say…that dress isn’t appropriate for anything outside a man’s fantasy, Bug.”

  I melt all over the floor without him realizing it. I try not to notice the pet name he’s created for me, even though a chill runs down my spine every time he says it. My hips are sore from squishing my legs together so hard, so I relax and try my best not to think about it. I notice him staring at my mouth, his hungry eyes fixed on my bottom lip, and I feel so self-conscious that I look away. “Don’t do that,” he murmurs. “Don’t look away—I see you in there somewhere.”

  After nearly spitting out the rest of my coffee, I wipe the excess off my lips with a napkin. “What do you mean, you see me in here somewhere? Of course you do. I’m sitting inches away from you.”

  “You know what I mean. Don’t be difficult.”

  My head spins. “I just need to get home and get some sleep.”

  Jake looks hurt that I didn’t return his flirty banter. “I’ll drive you.”

  “No, I can take a cab.” I stand up, desperately wanting for him to stop me. “You’ve helped me enough. You’re a nice guy, Jake.”

  “I don’t mind, really.”

  “Please…” I hold my hand out to stop him from standing up. “Just let me go.”

  Jake thinks for a few seconds until he relaxes back in the chair; he presses his lips together, seeming to think carefully over his next words. “If that’s what you want.”

  I nod. “I’m sorry about you having to save me; that’s not the kind of person I am.”

  “Exactly what kind of person are you, Olivia?”

  There’s a moment where I think I can sit down and tell him everything. It would be nice to talk to someone for once that isn’t biased about helping me remember things they think are important.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “When can I see you again?” Desperation fills his voice, and it makes me sad. I honestly had no intentions of seeing Jake again, but something keeps drawing me back into him and his sad, light brown eyes and permanent frown.

  “Olivia, I just found you—I need to see you again.” The magic in his voice almost uplifts me. The hope that seeps through his mouth suffocates me, but I don’t say anything before walking away from him to find a cab outside.

  He follows me outside loyally. “Here, at least take this.” A twenty-dollar bill is wrapped up in his fingers, and he doesn’t let me jerk my hand away. He places it firmly in my palm before turning to hail a cab for me. I hop inside and don’t say a word as he vanishes into the distance.

  The whole ride home, all I can think about is the way he handled me when I fell and the flirty smiles that spread across his juicy lips whenever I blushed. His entire presence is so easy to be around that I find myself wondering if I should have stayed with him at the coffee shop.

  It hurts to think as hard as I have been lately, but I search my mind for some sliver of a memory of him and find nothing.

  One thing is for sure.

  Even if I don’t know Jake, he definitely knows me.

  Chapter Two

  Unicorn

  “You should’ve seen her, Daddy.”

  My head is pounding as I wake up to bright sunlight and the familiar screeching sound of Caitlyn’s voice downstairs, whining to our parents about how horrible it is to be in public with me. It’s not exactly a basket of roses for me, either.

  I hardly remember the cab ride home after I left Jake behind. I managed to shimmy out of the cocktail dress, now lying on the floor, and put on leggings and a t-shirt before passing out. I touch my lips and think about the dream I had—the champagne-induced dream—of Jake and me in some pretty steamy positions that make me blush even now.

  “She literally almost passed out on the lawn!” The twinge in her whine heightens, and I feel her disappointment even from a completely different level of the house.

  “Caitlyn, worry about yourself, okay? I don’t know why you even went to that party,” my dad says. I hear the strain in his tone as he tries to hold back his anger. “Honestly, when are you going to grow up and realize our lives are different now?”

  Hearing this makes my eyes pop open. There have been a few times when I caught my dad, mom, and Caitlyn talking about something intense, but whenever they realize I’m listening, it always stops. This time, I don’t move a muscle or even breathe, just in case. I want to know what they’re hiding from me; I want validation that my dreams are real and there’s something they aren’t telling me.

  “I can’t babysit her anymore, and I shouldn’t have to! Not to mention who she left with—”

  “Who did she leave with?”

  She whimpers; the position she’s put herself in now isn’t as bad as ones she’s put herself in before, but still…Dad can be pretty intimidating sometimes.

  “Jake Redding.”

  He slams his newspaper down on the table, making me jump. It gets eerily silent, so I decide that I better get up and face the music before Caitlyn shoves her foot any deeper into her own mouth.

  “Caitlyn, it’s time to get on board with this or else.”

  “Or else, what?”

  He mumbles something, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. She starts her waterworks and searches the house for Mom. Her sobs flit around the floor beneath me, and my mom’s quiet voice tries to comfort her. This gives me an advantage—I can avoid them when I finally start padding on bare feet down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  “Hey, Dad.” I yawn and pick out a coffee mug, smiling to myself as I think about Jake and his Americano lucky guess. I wonder how he knew that was my favorite kind. It makes me think about his juicy bottom lip turned up into a mischievous smile, and I scold myself for obsessing over him. “I guess you’ve heard what happened yesterday, then.”

  He nods and picks his newspaper back up, not interested in having this conversation any more than I am. “You know I heard, you little eavesdropper. Is that true, who you left with? That part is the only one that concerns me.”

  “Jake? I didn’t know his last name until now.”

  His eyebrows rise, and he looks slightly over his newspaper, just enough for me to notice, but then snaps his gaze back to the open pages. “Well, just be careful.” His teeth grind together. This reaction is something I’m used to when my family gets into situations they don’t want to talk about. Usually, it’s just a hard subject change, but now Dad just starts to ignore the conversation completely.

  “I don’t plan on seeing him again, so it’s really not a big deal.” I find some Pop-Tarts in the cabinet, my stomach growling as I quickly open the package. I sit down next to him and pick up the comics. We read in silence except for the sounds of me chewing the breakfast goodness.

  “You know, who I come home with won’t be an issue when I move out.” A bit of Pop-Tart falls from my open mouth, making Dad shake his head. “I have enough money saved up to get my own apartment.”

  “If you’re ready to move out, you’re welcome to do so. Your mom and I have always told you that.”

  “No, you’ve told me that recently. Who knows what you told me before my accident?”

  Now that I’ve mentioned the accident, Dad gets uneasy. He doesn’t like talking about it, mainly because I start asking questions he doesn’t want to answer.

  “Olivia,” he warns me. “I’m not having this conversation again. Have you been talking to Dr. Ross about your dreams?”

  “Yes.”

  “What does he say?”

  For the record, I hate going to Dr. Ross. He’s the therapist they stuck me with after I started expressing concerns about dreams and headaches I started having after the accident. I’m forced to see him two times a week for an hour each time. It’s not exactly what I’d call fun.

/>   “He says it’s my brain’s way of trying to heal. That the memories aren’t really mine.”

  His newspaper goes back up like a shield. “He’s the one with the degree, honey. I think he knows more about it than we do. If he says the memories aren’t yours, why do you insist that they are?”

  The doorbell rings, and neither of us volunteers to go answer it. He’s done with the conversation and goes back to reading the newspaper. We’re both hoping that Caitlyn or my mother will answer the door instead. I smile as I read a comic about a dog who’s always getting himself into trouble, totally unaware that anyone else has entered the house.

  “What are you doing here?” Caitlyn growls from the living room. A deep voice mumbles something back, but I’m not committed to listening to my sister flirt with some random guy in our foyer. I pull my legs up and tuck them underneath me in the seat; my dad shakes his head because he hates when I do this. “…Oh yeah, sure. She’s in the kitchen—it’s through there,” my sister snaps at the visitor. A breeze wafts through the kitchen, and I feel him before I even look up.

  Jake.

  He smiles warmly at me from the doorway and then notices my father—he tucks his charm back into his pocket to use on me later. “I thought you might want this back.” He smirks and holds up my clutch from yesterday…complete with gold sparkles, booze smell, and all. His dark maroon pullover sweater clings to his defined chest as he shakes the bag in mid-air. The space between his lips broadens as he chuckles at my embarrassment.

  I start coughing, signaling for him to stop talking. “You didn’t have to do that…I could’ve gone by there later.”

  “Well, a simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

  My father snorts behind his paper, and I glare at Jake, who isn’t as amused. “Thank you,” I say with zero enthusiasm as I stand up, forgetting that I’m in pajamas, and go to snatch the purse from his hand. He looks down at me, his copper blonde curls shining in the daylight; he pretends to hold onto the purse with more strength than I have, pulling me closer to him.

  “Can I take you to breakfast?” The spice in his voice showers over me, making my knees a little weak as he lets go of the purse and forces me to take a few steps backward.

  “I’ve already eaten, thanks.” I shake my head and brush past him, hoping he’ll just take the hint and leave.

  “What is it about me that repulses you so much?” He walks after me, no rush in his steps. “I’m not sure what you’ve been told about me—”

  I whip around and glare at him. “No one has said anything to me about you, if you must know. You don’t repulse me—I said thank you for the purse. What else do you want from me?”

  “Breakfast, I’m hungry.” He pouts, and I have to admit—it’s adorable. The soft, short curls on top of his head make me shiver where I stand. I want to wrap my fingers around them and lose myself in his pouty bottom lip.

  He also makes me want to scream my lungs out. “I’ve eaten already…”

  The low growl that comes from his throat is exciting and terrifying at the same time. He rubs the bridge of his nose and forces a smile. His once-warm eyes are now stoic and cold, chilling me to my core; I wish I’d shoved socks on my feet now that my entire body is covered in chills. “Okay, so you’ve eaten already. When can I see you, then?”

  “You see me right now, don’t you?”

  That wasn’t the right thing to say at all.

  “You’re frustrating as hell—do you know that?” His intensity is overwhelming as he towers over me, but I have no intention of backing down from his demanding stance. Caitlyn stomps down the stairs and eyes the two of us, placing her body close to mine but far enough away to keep from brushing arms with me accidentally. Even though Jake and I are steaming at each other, she turns to look at me like he’s not even still in the room.

  “Livvie, can you help me pick out an outfit for my date with Sam?”

  Taken aback by this sudden interest in allowing me into her room, I brush her off when she tries to snake her arm around mine. “Maybe you can ask Jake for his opinion,” I offer.

  “I don’t have an opinion about her body or what she wears.”

  Caitlyn snickers. “Yeah, now, maybe.”

  Jake notices my eyes grow wide and turns to my sister, clenching his already tight jaw. Almost laughing—because why wouldn’t they have been together—I clap my hands together sharply and sigh almost a little too loudly. “Oh, were you two together? So that’s why you seem so familiar to me. You were one of Caitlyn’s flings, right? Well, Jake, don’t you want to take a trip down memory lane with my sister? I’m sure you two have more in common than you might care to admit.”

  His eyes darken as he barely opens his mouth to growl back, “Oh, do tell, Olivia. Like what, exactly?”

  I bite my bottom lip and push his frustration away from me as quickly as possible. I bet he likes to suck me into his controlling whirlwind because he can tell I like it a little. “Like me, for example. I don’t want anything to do with either of you right now.” I blow out a deep breath, push my long, chocolate-brown hair behind me, and walk away from the confused pair without a second thought or regret. There’s no way in hell I’m going anywhere with someone who dated—and probably slept with—Caitlyn. That’s not my type at all.

  “I’ll pick you up at seven for dinner.” His voice booms up the stairs, but I just give him a backward wave. The purse is still clutched in my hand as I shut my bedroom door and go to the window. I wait a few minutes to see him walk outside and stop, playing with his phone before standing in front of the gray Mercedes parked in the driveway.

  “I’m coming in!” Caitlyn yells but doesn’t knock. This is something she does regularly…when she needs something from me. I cringe when I think about the last time she burst into my room and told me she was dragging me along to that stupid barbecue.

  I throw a pillow at her but miss. “Get out!”

  Caitlyn rolls her eyes—heavy with eyeliner even this early in the morning—as she marches across the room on perfectly tanned and waxed legs and collapses into the small, black armchair by the bookcase. She scans the shelves for something in her wheelhouse to read. I don’t subscribe to whatever female swag magazine she reads, so she gives up and crosses her arms over her chest, waiting for me to speak first.

  “He’s all yours.” I walk toward my closet, looking for a clean pair of jeans. I hardly want to sit here and argue with her about someone I have no interest in. The last thing I want is her sloppy seconds.

  “Oh, I’m not here to talk about that.” She opens a Rolling Stone magazine from the bookshelf. Her nose turns up when she sifts further through it, but it makes me smile just the same. “Jake Redding is trouble—what does he even want with you? Has he said anything?”

  I slam my closet door and throw a pair of decent jeans on my bed after sniffing them to make sure I could still detect laundry soap. “Can you stop with the drama, Caitlyn? I just said he’s all yours. What more do you want from me? I have no interest in dating someone that’s already been contaminated by you.”

  She hardly realizes that I’m insulting her, because in her world, she is the Queen and all of the little peasants don’t matter. “I want to know why he’s picking you up for dinner at seven.”

  I take my leggings off and put the jeans on, replacing my t-shirt with a brick-red v-neck while she waits for me to answer. “I don’t know, Caitlyn.” I sigh and find some sneakers under the bed, sliding them on my feet. “I’m not going to dinner with him. You can go if you want.”

  She squeals and claps her hands together. “You should just call him and cancel if it doesn’t matter to you.” I groan, making sure she knows I’m annoyed, but the Queen doesn’t care.

  “I don’t know why you even care. Didn’t you already get what you wanted from him?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She laughs like I should be as impressed with her as she is and tries to toss her hair behind her shoulder. It’s like
a comforting, repetitive motion for her. She still doesn’t confirm her involvement with him. “Jake Redding is sort of like a…unicorn.”

  I laugh instantly. “A unicorn? Oh, this’ll be good.”

  “No, seriously. It’s pretty intense to be near him; I won’t lie about it. He’s strong-willed, and he knows what he wants, but he gets a little scary sometimes.” Her fingernail taps on the now-closed magazine in her lap. “You can feel it, right?” Caitlyn smacks her glossed lips and shakes her head, not waiting for my answer. “He’s the mysterious Redding boy, after all.”

  “Why’s he so mysterious? Seems to me he just doesn’t want to play your little high school games.” She stands up, knocking the magazine to the floor and not even blinking an eye to the mess she’s made at her feet.

  “Well, Jake is the oldest of the Redding boys: There are four. There’s Jake; he’s twenty-five. Tyler is twenty-four, Noah is twenty-three, like you, and Grant is twenty-one, like me.” I try to pretend like I don’t care, especially since she still feels the need to remind me of basic facts about myself, like my age, as if I’m completely mentally incompetent. “Their mother, Mary-Anne, is a socialite, they come from old money, and Jake is the only Redding boy that you hardly see at any social functions or in any pictures. He doesn’t like the spotlight—he actually hasn’t been seen or heard from in over a year.”

  “And that makes him mysterious? Hardly.” I turn my back to her, but I’m interested in the conversation now. “How do you know so much about him?”

  “I mean, duh, it’s not that hard. Anyone who’s smart enough to use the internet can dig up dirt on someone.”

  A light turns on inside my brain—why haven’t I thought about this before? She notices the new glimmer in my eye and realizes she’s messed up.

  “I don’t even care. I don’t want him—you can have him.” I cringe at the fact that I basically just treated him like property from a board game, but I have to make her feel like I’ve moved on from my idea.