Every Night

by Lexy Timms

  “Good point. You could get a sleeve, but get it in stages,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, most people who have sleeves of tattoos didn’t go in with a sleeve in mind. They started with one image, then found another one they liked. They put that image alongside the original one, and it just morphs.”

  “I’d run out of canvas. I’d end up covering every inch of my body in tattoos,” I said, laughing. “Could you imagine that? Me with a body full of tattoos?”

  “You could change your hair color to match any tattoo you wanted,” he said, grinning.

  “Ha. Ha. Ha. Joke’s on me. Got it. Yeah, I’m way too indecisive for a tattoo. I actually really admire people who can get them. It means they made a decision and stuck to it. Do you do your own tattoos?”

  “I design them, yeah.”

  “I mean, do you give them to yourself?” I asked.

  “Oh, no. I’m not that insane. My business partner has done all of them.”

  “Sounds like artistic capabilities run in the family,” I said.

  There was a moment where he locked up, where he got lost in his memories. I watched him dive back, probably into memories of his brother. I wanted to know more about their relationship and more about them. I wanted to share in the joys he had with his brother.

  I wanted to hear more of his memories like the one he told at the bar that night.

  “What do they all mean?” I asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Your tattoos. What sparked them?” I asked.

  “Well, this spiral one here was a random design I did when Drew and I were first beginning the company. It was sort of this morbid joke, like our lives were about to spiral into this endless abyss. We had no idea what we were doing, and we had no idea where we were going, and the design sort of flowed from that idea of jumping in with your eyes closed.”

  “That’s incredible,” I said.

  “And the geometric one is actually something I messed around with for a while. As an architect, I’ve always been captivated by the idea of hollow geometric shapes holding the weight they do. That load-bearing objects didn’t have to be these ugly, opaque eyesores. That tattoo was born out of that idea.”

  I smiled at him as he continued to talk, completely entranced by the intensity of this man. Everything was so thought out and based on some sort of principle that meant something to him at the time. His tattoos painted the perfect picture of who he was as a man and what he prized more than anything else.

  I wanted to run my fingertips across them just to feel his intensity seep into my bones.

  “The rose with the piano petals is interesting, actually. It’s a way to commemorate the beauty of my parents, back when we had a better relationship.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “My father has this tradition with my mother. Whenever she’s sick, he brings her tulips to fill her room. Whenever she’s upset, he brings her an orchid to make her smile. But when she’s sad, or depressed, or hurting somehow ...”

  “He brings her roses,” I said.

  “Nope. A rose. One single rose. He gives it to her, and he holds her while she picks the petals off it. Then, he gathers all the petals up and throws them into a bath.”

  “He makes her a rose bath,” I said.

  “He does. It’s the single most romantic thing I’ve ever seen him do for her, and he did it every single time she was upset, hurting, or down in the dumps.”

  “What are the piano petals for, then?” she asked.

  “My mother used to be an expert pianist until carpal tunnel did her in. She’d fill the house with beautiful music. It’s how they met.”

  “Your parents.”

  “Yep. They met at one of her concerts when she was in her twenties,” he said.

  “That’s a hell of a story behind that tattoo,” I said.

  “These aren’t all of them, though. I have a Phoenix on my chest whose wings stretch the width of it. Just a basic symbol of how I rose from the ashes of—”

  He faltered, and I knew why. I wanted him to say it. I needed him to say it. I needed a way to open this discussion about his brother.

  Maybe then it would be easier to tell him everything.

  “Of what?” I asked.

  “How I rose up from the ashes after I lost my brother,” he said.

  “I’m so sorry, Bryan,” I said breathlessly.

  “I’ve got one that’s just for him. On my lower back.”

  I felt myself tense up as he mentioned it. The cabin tattoo I saw that day on the jobsite. He was going to talk about it.

  “What’s it of?” I asked.

  “It’s a picture he drew in high school of our family cabin. We kept asking our parents for a treehouse, and instead, they built us a family log cabin.”

  “Well, that escalated quickly,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “My parents have always been that way. That tattoo was my first ever.”

  “The cabin one?” I asked.

  “Yep.”

  That was all he said about the matter, and I didn’t push it any further. He’d mentioned his brother and that was enough for tonight. We talked back and forth over dinner, eating our fill and waiting out the storm. The rain began to back off and the thunder finally trickled back off into the distance, and all the while, I could feel Bryan’s intensity radiating out toward me.

  Had I not been so willing to drown myself in it, it would’ve stifled me until I choked.

  Chapter 15

  Bryan

  The dinner with Hailey was nice. It wasn’t as awkward to talk with her about John as I thought it would be. It was a relatively easy to topic to bring up with her, but I didn’t want to harp on something that would bring down my mood, especially since we were having such a good time. The storm was a wonderful backdrop for our meal. It forced us to take our time and simply relax. It gave me some time to study her and how beautiful she looked in an outfit that had probably taken her no time to throw on before she headed out the door.

  It was refreshing to meet someone like her, a person who lived life like she did without being tortured and depressed. I could see why her spirit would be so uplifting to a community she found herself in, and the more we talked, the more I gravitated toward her.

  I could see the smile of relief on her face as we drove back by the gallery. Her passion and her desire to protect her building filled me with something I couldn’t quite explain. She took pride in her work, something that wasn’t always apparent with business owners, and I didn’t take it as an insult at all that she wanted to keep checking up on it.

  It only enhanced the beauty that was inside of her to begin with.

  We drove back to her place in relative silence. All of San Diego had been drenched in a torrential thunderstorm, and by the looks of it, the storm was just beginning. Clouds were growing darker as we inched closer and closer to her apartment, and by the time we pulled up, it was beginning to rain again.

  “Why don’t you come up and have a cup of coffee? You could wait until the storm breaks again before you try to head back.”

  I had to admit, going up into her apartment seemed nice. I wasn’t quite ready for the night to end, but I knew the sparks were flying between the two of us. Every time my skin touched her, there was this electric current that shot throughout my body. Her smile and her laughter, they warmed a part of me I’d ignored for a very long time. I had cast my dating life aside to build my business, grieve the death of my brother, and try to repair my damaged family.

  Going up and having a cup of coffee with her didn’t just tug at my stomach.

  It tugged at my pelvis as well.

  “I think that sounds like a good idea,” I said.

  We rushed up the steps to her apartment before we both fell into it. She shut the door behind her as the wind began to kick up, and she needed a bit of help getting it shut. She locked the door but walked around to all her windows and opened the blinds. I cou
ld see the relaxing smile that crossed her face as the thunder started to roar again, and I watch as the lightning played off her supple curves.

  “A fan of thunderstorms?” I asked.

  “They’re my muse,” she said, smiling. “I love everything about them, their torrential strength and life-giving grace. I love the way they’re capable of destruction while lighting up the sky with the most beautiful light show I’ve ever seen.”

  Her intensity was astounding and not the least bit stifling. I watched as she walked over to the coffee pot and started making some, filling her small studio apartment with its comforting scent. She started grabbing for mugs and sugar and creamer, setting everything out as I slowly made my way toward her.

  Every part of me was yelling out to touch her, lay my hands in the dip of her waist and feel her soft skin underneath my touch.

  Part of me wondered if taking her up on the coffee invitation was a good idea. I hadn’t known her that long, and she was one of my clients for the company. But as I watched her fix us two cups of coffee with that cute little grin on her face, I couldn’t help but feel drawn to her. The lightning played off her features again, followed by the rumbling sound of thunder as the storm barreled towards us. Where most people would cower away and find anxiety, Hailey found strength and relaxation.

  She was mesmerizing, and I wasn’t ready to leave her side yet.

  Hailey was living the life she wanted. She wasn’t tortured. Wasn’t haunted. Sure, we all had a past, but she didn’t allow it to follow her. At least, not like I allowed mine to follow me. She seemed grounded. Rooted. Unlike most artists who always had their heads in the clouds or were stuck in their dank, dark caves of desperation and despair. She was sweet and free but had a final goal in mind she was reaching for.

  “You know, people always say I think about the future too much,” she said as she handed me my mug of coffee.

  “Why do they say that?”

  “I’m not sure. I mean, I’ve always had future plans, but I like to think I live in the present. I guess because I always talk about what I’ll eventually do with my artwork and what I’ll eventually show to the world. My sister thinks I spend too much time dreaming over the future instead of enjoying the current state of my life.”

  “Well, it’s better than dwelling on the past,” I said.

  “You can change the future, you know? Maybe that’s why I always look toward it, because nothing’s set in stone until it’s already happened.”

  “That makes sense,” I said as I leaned against her kitchen counter.

  “Do you look toward the future?” she asked.

  “I think I dwell more on the past and thinking about how I could make up for it. I tend to focus on all the mistakes I made and how I wished I could change them. It’s a nasty habit.”

  “I wouldn’t say you always do that,” she said. “I mean, you have a future goal to always take on the homeless employees. That’s not dwelling on the past.”

  “But it is linked to my past,” I said.

  “That doesn’t mean you’re dwelling on it. It just means that passion was born out of something that happened to you. Welcome to the rest of the world, Bryan,” she said, grinning.

  “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

  We both leaned against the edge of her kitchen counter and drank our mugs of coffee. It was actually great coffee, and I drank it faster than I probably should’ve. The storm outside was only growing in momentum, and at this point, I wouldn’t be able to see if I did attempt to drive home. Hailey took my empty mug, our fingertips brushing against one another as a surge of electricity ricocheted up my arm.

  Only this time, I saw goosebumps cascade up hers.

  She set the empty mugs in the sink before she pulled her wrap tighter around her shoulders. Her eyes flashed with the lightning cracking across the sky, and it wasn’t until I could smell her berry perfume that I realized I was looming over her. She panned her beautiful eyes up to mine, hooking her gaze onto my face as the air around us grew thick. Maybe it was the electricity crackling around us outside, or maybe it was how inviting her body was. Maybe it was the way we seemed to view the world similarly, or maybe I was simply attracted to the beauty of her artwork.

  Either way, it drew my lips to hers, and when I felt her lips pucker against mine, my hands slid slowly around her waist.

  Her wrap fell from her body as her hands grasped my shirt. She pulled me closer, our lips massaging one another’s while she stood on her toes to reach me. The tips of our tongues ignited a fire that raged throughout my body. I breathed her in as my head tilted off to the side, and I knew I was about to cross a threshold I could never come back from.

  “Hailey,” I said darkly.

  “Mhm?”

  “I have to be honest with you about something.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Her eyes were wide with innocence even as her pelvis ground into mine. I groaned with her movements, feeling my body rise to attention as her hands slid down my chest. She wrapped them around my waist, holding me close to her as her body comforted me. I lifted my hand to cup her cheek, admiring the flush that poured over her creamy skin.

  “I want you,” I said.

  “Bryan, I would never have invited you up if I didn’t want the same thing,” she said.

  “Should we—I mean, do we need to use some sort of protection?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “Not if you don’t want to. I’ve, well, I’ve got an IUD. I mean, if that’s why you were asking that question.”

  My eyes danced between hers, watching as her pupils dilated with want. I pressed my lips to her forehead, hearing her sigh as she pressed her body to mine. Slowly, delicately, I lifted her into my arms and gathered her close to my chest. She curled into me instinctively, like she’d done it for years, and I carried her over to her bed that was stashed haphazardly into the corner.

  The storm raged outside as the thunder shook the walls. Our clothes came off leisurely as if peeling back the layers of a fruit before getting to its succulent, juicy center. Soon, we were clad in nothing but our own skin, my tanned hide contrasted with her milky softness. I sank between her legs, feeling her warmth and wetness grow against me as my lips sank back down onto hers.

  My body was alight with electricity, and the storm surging outside would provide the perfect soundtrack to the noises I would pull from her body before the night was finished.

  Chapter 16

  Hailey

  His chiseled body glistened in the light of the lightning piercing the sky above us. Our eyes wouldn’t leave one another’s, scared that if one of us looked away, the other would disappear. His arms flexed around my shoulders as his face descended to mine, and I felt both beautiful and petrified. If I slept with Bryan, there would be no going back. I hadn’t been honest with him about everything. About being at the bar. About John. About everything that happened that careened me to this point in his life. Even now, I saw his brother’s smile reflected in the smirk that danced upon his cheeks, and as his nose nuzzled against mine, I felt every inch of my skin heat up.

  “You’re beautiful, Hailey,” he said.

  His voice sounded like thunder rumbling off in the distance. It rattled my ribcage as his body grew with the anticipation of exploring mine. I reached up, brushing a strand of his dark hair from his forehead as I smiled up at him. The way his dark eyes twinkled with mischief and innocence all at the same time shook me to my core.

  I brought my lips up to meet his, feeling his body sink into mine as his muscles descended onto the curves of my body.

  My legs hooked around his, my toes running up and down his calves. I could feel him trembling as our lips danced together, swelling in a symphony of passion with the blood coursing through our veins. My hands dug into his back, pulling him closer and closer, and my hips began to roll against his body. I felt him grow against my leg, pulsing and throbbing. His lips ghosted across my cheek and made their way to the shell of my ear
.

  I shivered as his breath filled the crook of my neck.

  “Stunning,” he whispered.

  I let out the breath I was holding as his lips traveled the span of my neck. His hands went over every inch of my body, discovering places that made me jump into him, making him smile against me. His lips sucked delicate patches of my pale skin between his teeth, nibbling at them and marking me as he traced a path of lust down my body.

  My veins pulsing in my neck, feeling his tongue rake over them as he traveled down to my breasts. My hands wove into his hair while the walls and the bed shook with each thunderclap. His hands massaged my sides, pulling my hips closer to his as his hips rolled into mine. He pulled moans and groans from my throat by wrapping his lips around my pink nipples.

  I raked my fingertips over his scalp, making him groaned into my body, and I knew I would cave to him. I would walk the line of the deceitful just to feel his body filling mine.

  He traveled down my stomach, placing open-mouthed kisses as his body sank lower and lower between my legs. He gripped into my excess, kneading my skin, kissing and licking and nibbling. I could feel his marks rising upon my skin, welting and turning different shades, like one of his geometric patterns he was now filling out. I felt like he was using me as his canvas, drawing a picture with his teeth and tongue he would frame and put on his wall later.

  I looked up and saw his eyes studying my body. Studying the painting he’d left behind before his black stare hooked onto mine.

  There wasn’t an ounce of the innocence I’d seen before, but in its place was a hungry man, waiting to devour the soft, unassuming woman he had in his claws.

  The lightning crashed across the sky, illuminating his lust as I watched his lips dip to my pussy.

  I sighed and laid back as his tongue connected with my clit. Slowly, torturously, he swirled around it. He flicked and sucked. He pressed, and he denied. His warmth traveled all around my dripping lips as he gently pressed my knees open, parting me for him as my hips began to roll into his lips. My hands twisted into the sheets, and my body began to quiver. An unfamiliar sensation crept up my body, a desire and a pleasure I hadn’t felt in years.