by Carian Cole
“You’re not doing so great with that rule.”
“I know.”
I lean back in the chair and wait for her. “So, what’s it gonna be, darlin’?”
Nodding slowly, her smile comes back. “Yes. I think I’m gonna go for it. But only if you go slow. Will you stop when I ask you to?”
“Of course. I’ll give you a lot of breaks, but once we start the design, we have to finish it. Even if we work on it every day for two weeks. I’m not going to let you walk around with a half a design on you.”
“Ew. Deal.”
“Have you decided what you want?”
“I want you to do what you picked. That will mean the most to me.”
Nodding, I try not to let her see how happy that makes me. “Do you think you can straddle the chair backwards so I can get to your back? You can get up and stretch whenever you need to.”
“Sure.”
I get the rest of my gear ready while she turns the chair and moves it closer to me. “Should I take my shirt off?” she asks.
“Yeah, and your bra, too, if you’re okay with that.”
She peers back at me. “Isn’t that unprofessional?”
“Immensely.”
It’s hard to concentrate once she’s sitting there topless, even with her back to me. I try to compose myself.
I gather her hair and lay it over her shoulder. “Keep your hair in front,” I say, opening a sterile rubbing alcohol pack and wiping her back with it.
“How big is this going to be?”
I sit back and stare at her blank skin, trying to envision it in my mind. She’s so tiny. I picture it taking up almost her entire back, if she has the patience for it.
“I was thinking two huge angel wings, taking up pretty much your whole back. It would look incredible, but it would take some time to do, depending on how much you can handle at once. Or if you just want small wings, I can do that, too. It’s your body, so you tell me.”
She grabs her cell phone and starts fiddling with it, then turns and thrusts it at me. It’s a web image of a tattoo similar to what I described. The art isn’t as good as mine, but it’s not bad. “Like this?” she asks.
“Yeah, but my detail and shading will be much more realistic than that. But yeah, that size.”
“Yes! That’s what I want. I’d love that.”
“Let’s get started then. Try to keep still, and let me know if you need me to stop.”
I snap my black gloves on and get to work. She yowls two seconds after I start. I pull back.
“Ouch! That does hurt. Shit!”
I stifle a laugh. I’ve seen girls react this way at least a hundred times. “You kinda get numb to it after a while. Do you want me to stop? There’s just a tiny black line.”
“No!” she wails. “I’m doing this. I will not wuss out.”
“Good girl.”
“Just talk a lot to distract me.”
WE TALK CASUALLY as I work on her. She tells me some funny stories about when she was a little girl, and I tell her a few of my tamer childhood stories. I want to tell her about the band, and more about my music, but I’m afraid that could lead to too many possible links for her to connect the dots and figure out who I am. Shit. For the first time in my life, all my lies are making me sick.
“You’re doing great, babe,” I say after about an hour and only two short breaks. “Are you feeling okay? I’ve had a few chicks pass out on me before. Two guys, too.”
“Are you kidding? Sucks for the guys. How embarrassing is that?”
“Very.”
“I feel okay. A little sore.”
I stop and take a few moments to really look at the design. It’s coming out totally sick. “You’re going to be tender for a few days. You might not want to sleep on your back.”
“Okay . . . what about other stuff?”
“What other stuff?”
“You know . . . with you.”
Leaning forward, I kiss her shoulder, being careful not to touch her back or let my hair brush over her raw skin. “You mean sex?”
“Yes, that, and the other stuff.”
I stand up and walk around her chair to kneel in front of her. “I’ll go easy on you. There’s lots of positions I can put you in. Or we just won’t do any of that.”
She nods but doesn’t say anything else, just chews on her lower lip.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her.
“Is that all there is . . . for us? Just sex?”
Fuck. I’m not ready for this.
I stand and head for the refrigerator. “You want a cold drink?” I pull out a soda and she’s right behind me when I turn around.
“Hey, get back over there where it’s clean. I don’t want you walking around getting cat fur or what-the-fuck-ever on you.” Grabbing her elbow, I lead her back to the dining room.
“You’re avoiding the question,” she accuses me.
“Tabi . . .”
“Vandal. It’s okay if that’s all this is. Just be honest about it.”
I relent and fall into my chair. Be honest. Do I even know how to do that?
“No. That’s not all this is,” I finally say, but I have no idea what else to add because I honestly just don’t know what I’m feeling right now, but I do know that this is more than just sex, and that scares the shit out of me.
She stares at me with her big eyes. “Really?”
“Really.”
She accepts that. For now.
We decide to do the left-side wing today and the right side tomorrow. I take a picture of it with her cell phone and she jumps up and down with excitement and gingerly places her arms around me when she sees it. I cover it with bandage and plastic and help her put her T-shirt back on.
“I have an idea,” I throw at her as I clean up my gear.
“Do tell.”
“Why don’t we watch some television tonight? Like you wanted to the other night?”
Her excitement grows even more. “I would love that!”
LATER THAT NIGHT I’m doing something I never thought I’d be doing. Sitting on the couch with a chick lying against me, eating pretzels and chocolate, watching a stupid comedy. I don’t know how I got here or what the fuck this is anymore. Something is happening.
By the end of the movie, she’s asleep, so I pick her up effortlessly and carry her to the bedroom. The past few days and then the tattoo must have exhausted her because she doesn’t even wake up when I remove her sweatpants and pull the comforter over her. Maybe this is what love feels like. Just taking care of someone and trying to make them happy.
I crawl into the bed next to her and pull her against me, being careful not to hurt her back. Sterling jumps up and curls at the foot of the bed. I wish Katie were here. If she was, she would love Tabitha, and she would be head over heels for Sterling.
But neither of them would even be here if Katie were alive.
Screaming cries wake me from a dead sleep and I bolt upright, thinking Katie is having a nightmare. My feet just about hit the floor when I realize it’s not Katie; it’s Tabitha. She’s thrashing in bed next to me, whimpering and crying.
I gently shake her. “Tabi . . .”
She smacks at me and kicks me, still screaming. I grab her hands to avoid another hit to the face. “Tabi, wake up.”
Waking with wild eyes, she stares at me as if she doesn’t recognize me and yanks herself away from my grasp.
“Hey . . . it’s okay. You had a bad dream.”
Her eyes slowly focus on me and she settles down a little. “I had a dream about the accident again,” she says, her entire body trembling with the aftermath of the dream. “I can see the lights coming at us and I scream, but I can’t make them stop. I can’t get the car to stop.” Shit, she remembers. I don’t remember any of it.
“Come here,” I say softly, and after a few moments, she moves into my embrace, but doesn’t put her arms around me. I wrap my arms tightly around her and lean my cheek against the top of her hea
d, wishing my touch could suck all the fear and pain from her.
“I hate it, Vandal. It’s awful. All I can see is the lights and then I’m lying in the road . . . and everything hurts so much, and there’s blood on me, and I don’t know where Nick is . . . and there’s a baby crying, and I can’t make it stop.” She sobs against my chest, oblivious to the fact that her words just turned my veins to ice.
A baby crying . . .
How could I be so stupid to think that just because I remember nothing from the accident that she wouldn’t either? A baby crying means that Katie didn’t die right away, as I convinced myself she did. As everyone led me to believe. She was alive and she was alone in that twisted fucking mess. Crying. Where the fuck was I?
I swallow hard. “There was a baby in the accident? Where was the baby?” I try to keep my voice even.
“I don’t know...still in the other car I think. I couldn’t see her. It was just awful. I don’t want to think about it.” Her entire body shudders.
“Shit . . .” I hold on to Tabi as my own tears choke out. Knowing that Katie was alive and hurt, scared and alone before she died, is ripping my heart to shreds.
“I miss him so much . . .” Tabitha utters against my chest.
Vile jealousy coils inside me, snaking around my grief. Fisting her hair, I yank her head up, finding her lips in the dark, my tongue seeking out hers. Her hands cling to my shoulders, her nails digging into my flesh. Pushing her down hard, I fall on top of her, kissing her savagely, using my leg to push hers apart.
“Ow!” she shrills. “Vandal, stop!”
I pull away from her instantly, snapping out of the fucked up frenzy I’m in. What is wrong with me? “Fuck! I’m sorry, I forgot about your tattoo. I’m sorry,” I repeat, apologizing for so much more than just hurting her back. I’ll say it a thousand times.
She turns on her side, away from me, crying into the pillow. Her fingers that just moments ago were clinging to me are now clenched to the blanket. I stroke her hair, hoping to soothe her. “I’m sorry, Tabi. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know . . . please . . . I want to be alone.”
The words slice through me like a burning blade. She wants to be alone to think about him.
I reluctantly leave her in my bed, alone with her grief and nightmare. Grabbing the blanket from the couch, I go out to the back deck and settle myself in one of the lounge chairs under the pitch-black sky that is riddled with gem-like stars and a bright crescent moon. All is quiet except for the chirping of crickets and an owl in the distance. Sometimes being out in the night calms me, and I sure as shit need that now.
KATIE. Tabitha heard her crying, and I want to know where my baby was. Was she trapped in the car? I want to force Tabitha to tell me everything she remembers, where she was, and where the sound of the crying was coming from. I want to grab her and demand that she tell me what she saw, what else she heard. She must remember more.
I can’t do any of those things though. No normal bystander would ask those questions, and she’ll know I either have something to do with it or she’ll think I’m some kind of fucking lunatic for asking crazy questions.
If I dwell on this I’m going to lose my mind over it. I want a drink so bad right now I can practically feel the burn of the alcohol just thinking about it. Or I could take a pill and let it pull me to sleep—anything to make this pain go away again.
Don’t do it.
Think about Tabitha instead. Focus on her.
Breathing deeply, I close my eyes to divert my thoughts. My head is twisted like a pretzel over this girl. I have no right to feel jealousy over her deceased husband. I may have distracted her for a few days, but she’s still grieving and missing him. Reliving the accident in her dreams is not helping. I know too well what that feels like.
I brought her here to make her forget, give her something new, and now I don’t want to be the distraction, because distractions are temporary and unfulfilling. For the first time in my life, I want more than a quick fix. I want to be more than a quick fix for someone, more than a novelty.
I hate that Tabi’s in bed alone, haunted by her own awful memories of the accident. She’s crying for the man she loved and lost, a good man that deserved her love. A man who isn’t the monster of her nightmares.
That’s me.
CHAPTER 17
VANDAL
WHEN I WAKE up the next morning, she’s lying on top of me, snuggled under the blanket. She must have come out here in the middle of the night after I fell asleep. She came to me.
I stretch my cramped legs, and her eyes flutter open and focus on me.
“Hey, you.” I tuck her hair behind her ear and wrap my arm around her. “What are you doing out here?”
She snuggles into my shoulder. “I missed you.”
“I’m sorry,” we both say at the same time.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Tabitha. I was being an asshole.”
“And I was being overly emotional, as usual.”
“You’re allowed to be. You’ve been through a lot and I’m probably not helping.”
She props herself up on her arm to look me in the eye as she talks. “That’s not true. I know I’ve only known you for a few days, but you’ve woken me up a lot. Here’s the thing . . .” She fingers my necklace, lost in her own thoughts for a moment. “I want to say this the right way, but I don’t know if there is a right way.”
A burn spreads from my stomach straight up to my heart as I come to the realization that she’s going to leave and she’s trying to say goodbye.
“I’m just gonna say it the best way I can right now, okay? Nick and I had a really special relationship.” Ugh, I don’t want to hear about Nick. I don’t want to hear how much you loved him. “He was a good guy, he treated me great, he was polite, and he was always in a good mood. That’s just who he was, and he was easy to love. Everything with him was just easy. There were no fights and no guessing. I know I’ll never find someone like him again, or be able to love someone like that again.” She swallows and peers up at me. I want her to stop talking before the bad part comes. I don’t want to hear the we can be friends spiel.
“I don’t think I could ever be in a relationship like that again without always comparing it to what I had and missing him. It would never be fair to put someone else through that.” She shakes her head a little. “But you . . . you are so different. You’re moody and mysterious, and you’ve got this . . . this thing about you that just makes me want to get closer and closer to you. You bring me out of myself. You’re unpredictable and a little bit scary, but you’re also protective and make me feel safe. The kind of relationship you want is so deep and dark and sensual. It’s all so raw and challenging. It’s not comfortable and easy. Loving you won’t be easy, I can see that. That’s what I need. Something totally different than what I had. That’s what I want.” She pauses and plays with a lock of my hair, twirling it between her fingers.
“Vandal, I don’t know where this is going or if it’s gonna last, and I know it’s too soon for either of us to be thinking about it right now, but someday, if it happens, I could see that with you,” she says.
“Shit. I thought you wanted to leave.” Letting out a big sigh, I grab her hand and link her fingers with mine. “So, yeah. I could see that too. With you. Maybe someday.” I wonder if she can feel my heart pounding in my chest at the thought of a someday with her. A someday I want really fuckin’ bad.
A shy but happy smile dances across her lips. “Is it weird we’ve only known each other a few days? Does it feel a lot longer to you? Tell me it does, or I’m going to feel stupid.”
“No . . . it feels longer to me, too,” I agree, reminding myself that I stalked her for a few weeks before actually meeting her.
She crawls on top of me and straddles me. Cupping her hands on my face, she slowly leans into me and kisses my lips.
“I want you,” she whispers.
“Then take me.”
She wiggles out of her panties and then reaches down between us to push my pants down. My cock is already rock-hard just from the words she spoke. She wraps her hand around me and slowly glides it up and down before lowering her sweet, tight pussy onto me. Sucking in a breath, I grab her hips, remembering not to grab her sore back. She lets out a faint moan as she takes me into her, her hands splayed on my chest for balance.
I never let a chick ride me. I always have to be in control. But having her on top of me, watching her slowly move above me with her eyes closed, pouty lips parted, and her head thrown back, I can’t think of anything else I’d rather have done to me.
Leaning back, I let her take control and do all the work, giving her the freedom to enjoy herself at her own pace, even though the urge to grab her by the hips and bounce her up and down hard on my cock like a pogo stick is very tempting. There is something amazing about seeing a shy woman come out of her shell, gain confidence, and harness her own sexuality. I ain’t gonna lie: I haven’t met many shy women, but this one here—she fucking dazzles me.
“I don’t know if I can go through this again. I’m still sore,” she whines as I set up my tattoo gear on the table.
“We can wait a day or two if you want. I’m not going to force you.” I gently lift her shirt to check out the ink I did yesterday, and it looks fuckin’ hot as hell on her. The feathery wings are some of my best work.
“It’s gorgeous,” I tell her. “Once this all heals up, it’s going to be sick. You have to let me add it to my portfolio.” I run my finger slowly down her spine and dip my head down to whisper in her ear. “Then I’m going to bend you over and fuck you so I can watch these wings flutter on your back when you come.”
She turns her head to me. “Oh, so that’s why you wanted wings on my back?” she teases as I pull her shirt up over her head.
“Maybe . . .” I reply, grinning.
“I thought it was because you’re setting me free.”
“That, too. So, are we gonna do this or do you want to wait ’til tomorrow?”
She flops down in her chair and turns away from me. “No, let’s get some done. I’ll suffer through.”
