by JC Szot
He heard a deep, whooshing sigh escape from Sean’s lips.
“Do it!” Zane snarled, his tone hard and edgy.
“Okay, okay.” Sean wiped down Zane’s skin and applied the cool ointment, adhering the transfer to his skin. “Do you want to see it first?” Sean sank his hands into the gloves, snapping them into place.
“There’s no need.”
The buzzing vibrated in his ears. He welcomed the sound like a cat’s soothing purr. The searing prick, scrape, and burn spread over his skin. It was like a therapeutic hot massage. Zane tensed, urging the pain on, thriving off it like the effects of a recreational drug. The consistent buzzing of the needles filled the bubble of silence that neither he nor Sean was capable of filling. The squeak of Sean’s stool yanked Zane out of his daze.
“Outline’s done. I need a drink. You?”
“Nope.” Zane leaned up on his elbows, waiting for Sean. His eyes caught a photo of a new tat Zane hadn’t noticed the last time he was in the shop. He tilted his head, gazing up at the curved dandelion as if it were battling a storm, its seeds shooting into the air across the flesh of what looked to be a women’s navel, a very pretty one at that.
“That’s a nice one.” Zane jutted his chin. “Is it new? Don’t remember seeing it.” The skin of Sean’s throat bobbed, his eyes startled.
“Yeah, did that one a few days ago.”
“I like it.”
Sean sat back down and connected his color tube.
“So…we have a purple blouse, red hair, and a rosy pink on the lips, am I right?” His words ran together.
“You got it.” Zane straightened his back out, anxious to feel the burn again.
* * * *
When Zane had handed him the transfer of Meg’s face, Sean almost lost his cookies right there, barfing on the toes of his boots. It was an exquisite drawing of her. Zane had captured her with a completeness that had Sean’s pulse racing. When Zane noticed the photo of the tattoo that he’d done for Meg up on the display wall, he fought with his ethics.
Should I shut down this operation and tell him now?
“This is going to look awesome.” Sean colored in Meg’s hair, the curls wild and sexy, the color red like autumn leaves. The lines of each strand were detailed, draping over one eye, just as they always were. He filled in her eyes, a rich green, as if reflecting a lush forest through a mirror. He added tiny yellow and brown flecks, just as he’d seen the other night while standing close to her. Funny how things happened for a reason. Maybe that one kiss was for research purposes. He chiseled out her cheekbones and then filled her lips with a petunia pink.
Zane’s muscles twitched and flexed under the workings of the needles. Sean had positioned the tat right at the edge of one of the branches of Zane’s tree of life. Meg completed his back. There was no room for anything else.
Sean became hypnotized by the needles driving into Zane’s flesh like tiny nails, spreading the rich color that he hoped would reunite them. He had a soft spot for Meg, but Zane needed her. They were a perfect fit. His buddy needed a driving force in his life, and Meg was it. Sean dabbed Zane’s skin, cleansing his work area, taking in the freshly inked flesh of Zane’s back. It was mind-blowing.
“Done.” Sean tore off his gloves. He stood watching Zane shimmy out of the chair. He walked over to the full-length mirror, grabbing the smaller one off the counter of Sean’s work station. He turned, slowly moving the smaller mirror over his shoulder, taking in all the details of his work.
“Did I capture her?” Sean downed the rest of his iced tea, his throat constricting. Zane faced him, his eyes glazed over. He walked toward him, resting his hand on his shoulder.
“You rock, man.” His lips broke out into a wide grin. “It’s hot.”
“So is she.” Sean’s words were strained. Meg’s pained eyes filled his thoughts. The breath caught in his lungs when Zane walked closer to the wall, the dandelion seizing his attention again.
“Who’d you do this on?” Zane was memorized by the photo. Sean rubbed his temple, preparing for what he knew would come. He stalled for time. The silence that surrounded his delayed response had him dizzy with confusion. Zane glanced back at him. His eyes narrowed in question.
“Whose is this?”
“It’s hers,” Sean muttered.
Zane’s eyes lowered. He turned back toward the photo. “Whose?” he asked again. Zane was going to make him say her name.
“I did that tat on Meg.” Sean cleared his throat, his words strangling him.
“This is Meg?” Zane spun around, his eyes wide. He faced the photo again then turned, holding Sean with his shell-shocked stare. Zane gripped the edge of the counter, his body swaying for a moment. “When?”
“A few days ago.” Sean needed a break from the glare that was icing him over, freezing him in panic. Zane’s footsteps forced him to face his unrelenting glare. “It was business. She asked me to do it.” He raised his hands in submission.
“Jesus Christ.” Zane sank down into the chair. “I can’t believe she let you ink her.”
“She wanted it, believe me.” Sean chuckled, every joint tight with tension. “I would’ve never thought.”
Zane shook his head, spooked by the image. “I can’t fucking believe it.” He got up and went to the wall again, still stunned.
“Since I’m drowning here, deep in confession mode, I might as well tell you that I took her out for a drink.” Zane’s jaw tightened. “You—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Zane’s tone was cold. “Don’t remind me.”
“There’s no need to worry, buddy. She’s got you on the brain. It’s bad.” They stared at each other. They’d been connected for a long time, through friendship and business. A woman had never come between them, and it certainly wouldn’t start now. “How long you gonna wait this out, man?” Sean asked. “Stop acting like a stubborn fool.” He turned his back and cleaned his work area, needing the task at the moment, an excuse to avoid Zane’s probing eyes.
“What’d she say to you?” Zane’s tone rose, slicing through the dramatic tension.
“Not much, but seeing as you both have permanently marked yourselves within the last week, I’d say this calls for a discussion, wouldn’t you?” Sean frowned, shaking his head, suddenly exhausted.
Chapter Twenty-One
There never seemed to be a right time. When did one confess one’s love to another? During a candlelight dinner, while ogling a pastel-colored sunset? A night sky dotted with stars?
He’d gotten no sleep and couldn’t eat. A world without Meg was sucking the life out of him, a life he’d just recently suffered to save. He was living on protein shakes, cranberry juice, and water. His gut was tight and sore. Sands of time trickled away with each passing day. Zane paced around his living room. That damn clock. He shivered. It then hit him hard, like an abrupt slap in the face. He opened the door, peering out into the hallway. Her door was ajar. His pulse jumped a few pegs. Three oranges and a bag of apples were on her doormat. Zane bolted into the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinet, yanking out her “go green” bags. Wasn’t this how it all began?
His bare feet gripped the worn carpet fibers as he made his way down the hall. The mustiness of the building now angered him. He’d never noticed it before, but once Meg had mentioned it, it grew on his skin like the live fungus that it was. Meg advised him to never go barefoot in this hallway, saying that the carpet was a vehicle to many undesirable forms of bacteria. Her rambling. He craved it, didn’t want to live without it. He wanted all those words ringing in his ears. Zane bent over, picking up the fruit and putting it in the bags, and slowly pushed her door open with one finger.
The sunshine glinted off of every strand of her hair as she moved from cabinet to cabinet. Tan plastic bags littered the counter and floor. Zane held the fruit to his chest, his blood careening through his veins at the sight of her. A short, black skirt showed off her shapely legs. The toned muscles of her thighs flexed as she stood on
her tiptoes, putting her groceries away.
His breath congealed in his lungs when she reached up into one of the cabinets. Her white blouse inched up her navel. The edge of her tat gleamed on her flesh, the picture not doing it justice. The colors flashed in his eyes, her skin like silky caramel. He stood in the middle of her living room, enthralled by the sight of her. God, I love her. The reality of this exploded in his head and heart, making his body twitch, the thrill and fear weaving together. He was frozen, waiting, desperately fighting the rejection that still mocked him. When she turned to pick up one of the bags, she jumped, her entire little body stiffening with fright. His heart yearned for her.
Meg’s fingers splayed across her chest, holding her heart, a heart Zane desperately wanted access to.
“Shit,” her breath heaved. “You scared me.” She laughed, her eyes wide.
“I’m sorry,” Zane said softly. “You know those bags are such a hassle.” He felt his face pull into a scowl. “Why don’t you give these a try? That way you won’t have to bother.” He smiled meekly. Meg’s lips formed into a pouted smile. She gave in, her eyes rolling across the ceiling as her beautiful laughter rang through the quiet apartment. She was music to his senses.
“You remember.” Her eyes brightened, leveling with his.
“I do.” Zane stepped closer, cautiously placing the fruit on the counter. Her scent spiraled around him, a fresh, fruity sweetness he’d never been able to recapture in his memory. He needed to address the important things first. He needed to openly acknowledge that he wasn’t there for her. “I’m sorry about your mother.” The words clawed their way out, his voice raw.
“Thanks.” Her eyes didn’t wander from his. He could feel her undeniable love and acceptance of him. She wore it on her face, her eyes wide. Her expression was startled, unsure of what his visit entailed. Why had it taken this long for him to see it? She was so good. Was he good enough for her? He wasn’t leaving until he found out.
“I had no idea, Meg. Again, I’m sorry.” He ran his fingers through hair that seemed to be growing like a weed, sprouting from his scalp. “I never asked you anything, never really got to know you.”
“She was sick for a long time.” She gripped the can of pinto beans, holding them to her chest. “My mother had Alzheimer’s disease. I tried to save her, but diseases of the mind are a bit beyond my ability.” Her choice of words and tone of voice were cynical. “At least I could help you.” She turned away. Zane saw the glittering tears roll, coating her cheeks. He moved closer, not wanting to hover. He needed to talk to her more. They hadn’t talked enough.
“You did help me. You saved me, Meg.” Her anguish became his. He’d been feeling her ache. It gripped him tight. Zane took slow and steady breaths, wanting to do this right. His feelings fed his words, wanting them to confirm that the one life she’d helped to heal wanted to be spent with her.
“There’s one thing I didn’t bank on through my illness and recovery.” He paused, wanting his words to be perfect, because that’s what she was to him—perfection. “I know it was a silly game of cards, only a bet, but see…I love you now, Meg.” His confession drifted through the air, hanging in the golden beams of sunlight that streamed through the window.
Her eyes filled, the tears falling, her emotions spilling over for him. “It just couldn’t be helped. You and all your wacky remedies and concoctions.” Zane smiled. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, needing composure for a few more minutes. “I love everything about you. Everything from your crazy curtains and hippie beads to your rubber-like tofu.” Her face crumbled. He heard her choking sobs but needed to continue. “I was nasty to you at times, and maybe a bit vain. I was also unappreciative, but you stuck by me.” Her strained voice rocked his insides.
“I didn’t think I could have you.” Her choked words mixed with her tears. “I didn’t think you wanted me, so I got this.” Meg lifted the hem of her shirt. Zane stepped back, in awe of his partner’s artful talent. “It reminds me of you.” Her lips were trembling. “See,” her voice stammered, “some things die, but some things can be reborn, too, like you. You released your illness and have been reborn, coming back anew.” The colors dazzled against her flesh, vibrant and full of life. The stalk arched on her lovely, firm navel. The fragile seeds rained across her belly, filled with a rich, tawny color.
Meg sank her head into her hands, her cries a howling pain Zane couldn’t endure to see or hear one minute longer. He took her into his arms, holding her body tight against his. He smoothed his hand down the fine bones of her spine. He felt her bones tremble under his fingers with each strangled cry.
“I’m sorry.” She shook in his arms. Zane gripped her chin, raising her eyes to his. Her expressive eyes radiated through him, shaking him to the core.
“Don’t ever apologize for your goodness. I freaked because I didn’t think I was good enough for you.” Meg shook her head, yanking the red curls out of her eyes. Her forehead creased with those two cute wrinkles he loved.
“You’re everything.” The smooth skin of her throat moved. Her words broke through her cries. “Don’t ever say that again.”
“It’s like this, Meg…I learned that it’s not about what you have or how much money you earn or your profession. It’s about unconditional love and acceptance, and that’s what you’ve given me. I learned that from you.” Zane stepped away and lifted his shirt over his head, her brows pulling together. He slowly turned around. “With everything I’ve been through”—his voice echoed through the room— “you’ve always had my back, Meg.” Her elated cries bounced off the ceiling. “Isn’t that what it’s all about?” He stood with his back to her, displaying the mark she had left on him and would now have forever.
“Oh my God!”
* * * *
Her own face stared back at her. Her eyes were so green, like a specialized color of paint. Her cheekbones were sharp, the curves of her neck and collarbone identical to hers. The purple neckline of her shirt shone on Zane’s skin, her hair curling waves of fire.
“You always took care of me,” he whispered.
“I’m…I don’t know what to say. I’ll have to thank Sean.” She laughed. “He sure made me look good.” Zane spun around, his eyes blazing. He pulled her into his arms.
“You are good, Meg, and as for how you look”—Zane’s eyes narrowed—“good doesn’t suffice. You’re absolutely beautiful.” He gripped her head, his lips on hers, hard, then soft, urgent, then loving. His tongue swept through her mouth, unleashing a fire she thanked God she would never have to live without.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“God, that tastes so sweet.”
“It’s a fig.” Meg wiped the corner of his mouth. She crumpled up the napkin and tossed it on the coffee table littered with fruits, cheeses, and crackers. Zane downed his water. Meg got up and cleared the remains of their dinner. She returned to the living room. Zane’s eyes followed her. The flame of the candle flickered in his eyes, shading his face with the glow of a muted sun. She started to undress. She’d waited long enough. Her skirt fell to the floor. She kicked it away and pulled the tank top over her head. She fingered the lace trim of her panties. Cards or no cards, she planned to be his best woman tonight, and forever.
“Please tell me you didn’t fuck her,” Meg whispered, holding her breath, needing to remove Leslie, her last nagging question. Zane slowly shook his head.
“Not on your fucking life.” Zane answered her through clenched teeth. She slid her panties down her legs, stepping out of them. Zane’s urgent breath roared in her ears. “You weren’t the only one who found what was lost during that card game,” Zane confessed, his words muttered.
“That card game made me feel ashamed for a while,” she admitted. Zane’s lips curled, his face hardening.
“Love and desire for a certain other should never humiliate anyone. I’ve learned that if anything, it humbles.” Zane stood and sat on the edge of the coffee table. His curled finger summoned her. He
gripped her hips, burying his face into her belly. His hands, strong and bold, skimmed down her back, caressing her ass.
He showered her with soft kisses that dotted her skin like spring rain. His tongue bathed her skin in long, hot, wet strokes. He kissed her tattoo, stroking it with the tip of his finger. His hand slid over her hip, his fingers gently separating her wet folds. He lightly stroked her clit, her knees buckling.
“Oh yeah.” Her head tipped. Her lungs pulled in rushes of air, her heart back in time with his. Circles of yellow light danced on the ceiling. “That’s it,” she hissed.
Zane shook his head, his wiry cheeks a delicious scrape against her flesh. “It’s so much more,” he mumbled, repeating her words, returning them. He slid down onto the floor, his fingers digging into her ass. She tilted her hips, feeding herself to him. His mouth was soft, gentle, but hungry. His tongue pressed into her pussy, his mouth drinking her flavor. She held his head. His hair was soft on her palms, like a newborn’s. An electrical charge ripped through her body, slamming deep, jarring the very center of her. Cool air blew on her skin as Zane stood up. His wide eyes locked with hers. He fought with his clothes.
She sank her face into his warm chest, having requested that he leave his shirt off during dinner. His body was strong, hard, and protective. His long arms wrapped around her, his hands a magical caress that had her starved for more. She let her fingers graze down his body, petting his cock as it bobbed in her hand.
“Christ almighty, Meg.” His chest lifted against her cheek. His personal fragrance sank into every pore, a woodsy musk that had her palate salivating. She gazed into his heavy-lidded eyes. She touched his lips with her free fingers. Zane sucked them deep into his mouth, licking, savoring.
