Mark Me

by Zoe Dawson

  “It doesn’t. Not at all. Not one ounce. Not ever,” I said fiercely.

  He pressed his forehead to mine, his chest heaving.

  “Rory, I want you to do something for me.”

  “Anything, angel.”

  “I want a tattoo where no one can see it. It will only be between you and me.”

  “Are you sure about that? A tattoo has to mean something, Savannah. You should choose what that is.”

  “I know you’ll know what I need.” I kissed his mouth. “Will you do it?”

  “Yes. I can’t refuse you anything. Give me some time to design it.”

  I followed him upstairs, where he sat down at the kitchen table. “What are all these boxes?” I asked.

  “Dishes and pot and pans.”

  “I’ll unpack them for you.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  While he worked, I stocked his kitchen, thinking about my momma’s ultimatum, and getting enormous satisfaction at the thought of Rory putting his mark on me. I went over to what looked like paintings against the wall. “What are these?”

  “Just some art I did a while back.”

  “Can I see?” He nodded, his attention on the paper he was working on the table.

  I turned around the canvasses and gasped. The paintings were gorgeous. Landscapes done in colors that weren’t normal. Black and blue birch trees, orange mountains and purple valleys. They were indescribably beautiful and so was Rory.

  I turned to look at him while his head was bent and his attention was focused on something other than me. I trembled with the feelings that spiraled through me, trembled because I had never felt so much for a human being before. I knew then that I was doomed to hold what I had in my heart for him forever. I turned away and squeezed out the tears that filled my throat and my eyes.

  “What’s your favorite flower?”

  With all my willpower, I kept my voice steady. “Tulips.”

  “Beautiful, like you,” he said, working the design some more, then said, “I’m done. Want to see it?”

  “No, not until it’s on me.”

  He looked up then. “It humbles me with how much you trust me.”

  I met his eyes and smiled. He reached out his hand and I went to him, clasping his hand. We went back downstairs. He locked the door, turning around the closed sign. Back at his station, he washed his hands. “Lie face down here.” After I complied, he said, “This is going to hurt a bit.”

  “It will be worth it.”

  He put on some gloves. “Where do you want it?”

  I showed him by pressing on my lower back, near my hip. He took up a marker and pulled down my shorts. “You have a very fine ass, by the way.”

  I laughed softly. “You do, too.”

  He smiled as I looked at him over my shoulder. “You’re sure about this?”

  “Yes, very sure. Mark me.”

  He pressed the area just below my hipbone on the right side. “Here?”

  “Yes, low enough that no one can see it.”

  He started to draw and I said, “Rory, I’m sorry about your momma. I truly am.”

  “Thank you. She was an amazing person, and I loved her deeply. She protected me every day.”

  “I wish I felt that way about my momma, but she’s hell-bent on making my life miserable.”

  “Have you tried to tell her what you want?”

  “Yes, it does no good. She’s going to fight me every step of the way, using whatever leverage or means at her disposal.”

  “Well, if you need any tactical advice, ask me. I’m a Marine, and I can give you an advantage.”

  He reached over for what looked like a wood burning tool. It buzzed when he turned it on. “This is a tattoo machine. It’s got a five-needle setup, and I’m going to work the whole tattoo tonight, since it’s not very big. It’s sanitized, by the way.” He rubbed a pad over my skin, and I could smell the alcohol. “Try not to move so the pattern doesn’t get messed up. Are you afraid of needles?”

  “No, and I have a high tolerance for pain.” That proved to be true, the needles were abrasive and annoying, but not what I would call painful.

  “The needles move in an up-and-down motion, pushing the ink just below the surface of the skin. The damage to your skin is minimal. Most of my clients don’t bleed at all.” After he said that, he wiped at my skin.

  The only time he paused was when he changed ink color. I was dying to find out what he had decided for me. This was something that I would always have of him. As I lay there, I decided that I would break off any contact with him. I had to do it for his safety. I couldn’t bear the thought of my momma ruining him because of me. But she couldn’t force me to marry Gray. I wouldn’t do that. I didn’t know how I would manage college on my own, but I would. It was possible to get grants. Boone would continue to employ me, so I could support myself. But I’d stay away from Rory. I closed my eyes and let the tears fall while he was occupied with his art.

  Once he was done, he covered it with a bandage, but although it stung a bit, that subsided with whatever ointment he put on me.

  “Keep this dressing on for 24 hours. It will scab over. You’ll get a peeling in about three to four days. Keep it clean, and it’s okay to shower daily until it’s fully healed, but don’t go to the pool or soak in the tub. The more you take care to keep it moist, the better the ink will set. It’s going to take about two weeks.” He handed me a round container. “This is tat ointment specifically made to keep your skin moist. Put this on three to four times a day.”

  “Thank you, Rory, for everything.”

  He stared down at me for a moment, then his mouth kicked up. “It was my pleasure, Savannah.” Then he grinned. There was a little piece of magic in that smile, something that warmed me down to my toes, and I reached up and planted a soft kiss on his mouth. Smoothing back my hair, Rory kissed me back, his mouth warm and moist and so damned tempting.

  “Come to Outlaws tonight and have dinner with me on my break.”

  “Yes,” I said, because I still had some time left before I had to tell my mother my decision. Then I was going to go to New York and talk to Gray. It was something I needed to do in person, because he still was my friend and I cared about him.

  All through dinner my heart was heavy. Rory talked about basic and Ethan. I was glad he had such a good friend, because he would need him soon. He held my hand over the table, and when the Outlaws started to play, he asked me to dance.

  Out on the dance floor, he whispered, “Come over after I get off tonight.”

  “What time?” I asked.

  “Ten. I need you, Savannah. Stay the night with me. This time it’ll be a choice, and there are no more secrets between us.”

  I nodded. I wanted to tell him, but I knew he would fight it. It was best for him if he felt betrayed and hurt. “Yes, okay. I will.”

  He slipped me his key, and I went to his place and waited for him. I called my momma and told her I was staying at River’s, and followed up with River in case she called.

  “What’s wrong, Savannah?”

  “Nothing,” I lied.

  “There’s something wrong. I can hear it in your voice.”

  “I think I’m in love with him, River.”

  “And that is making you sad? Why?” Her voice was gentle.

  “My momma isn’t going to let this go, and she threatened him.”

  “Oh, God. I know exactly how that feels, but Savannah, don’t you bend to her pressure. You’ll get through this.”

  “I can’t allow him to be caught in the middle, River. I know that you know how that feels, and what you did for Brax. I will handle this. Thank you for always being there for me.”

  “Always,” she said and hung up the phone.

  I sat on the balcony waiting for him. At 10:15 I heard him come in, and I decided to pretend this was permanent. That I would be here to greet him when he came home from work. He came out to the balcony and sat down next to me.

  “I
t’s beautiful here,” he said. “I love watching the sunset from this balcony. I had no idea the bayou would be this compelling. I only came here because this was Ethan’s home. I couldn’t go back to New York City. It was too hard.” He rose and came over to me, kneeling down and easing his way between my legs. Then he tucked his face in the crook of my neck. I soothed my fingers through the strands of his hair.

  “Now I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else,” he said. “This is home, especially now I’ve found you in the midst of all my bullshit.”

  I held him close. Without saying anything, he scooped me up and carried me to his room. Settling me on the bed, he climbed on next to me, gently covering my mouth with his and tightening his arms around me. He caressed my back, his movements slow and languid, soothing, as he pressed me closer and my mouth went pliant beneath his.

  He pulled away and unhurriedly undressed me, as if he was opening something fragile and exquisite. I helped him pull his T-shirt over his head and get out of his jeans. He smiled, his eyes locking on mine as he trailed a finger down my cheek, his touch tender and lingering; then he hooked his knuckles under my chin and lifted my face. His breath feathered across my lips for an instant; then his mouth touched mine with infinite gentleness. It was as though we were insulated from everything else, and I closed my eyes, letting go of conscious thought. His warmth and strength surrounded me, his touch like silk against silk, yet for all that softness, there was an underlying strength, a depth of feeling.

  I didn’t think anything. I knew. I was in love with him, and it had been building over the months I’d known him, been crushing on him. It was like light amidst darkness. It was gentleness amidst strength. A fierce ache constricted my throat, and I tried to will it away, knowing that for now I was safe and protected.

  Silence and indigo shades infiltrated the room, and I slid between the cool sheets and against his hot body. He sighed and drew me against him, molding me to his long, hard frame as he enfolded me in a secure embrace.

  I closed my eyes, an odd ache unfolding in my chest. Splaying his fingers against my scalp, he turned his head, his mouth finding mine in a softly searching kiss. His gentleness mesmerized me, binding me to him with threads of sensation, and I moved closer, wanting to hang on to all the poignant feelings his tenderness awakened in me.

  I wanted it to be simple. I didn’t want to get so immersed in my own responses and sensations that I lost contact with his. Tonight I wanted awareness: awareness of him, awareness of the infinite gentleness in his every touch, awareness of how cherished he made me feel.

  Sliding my hand across his hard, naked chest, I pressed him back, and he cupped my head, holding my mouth against his while he yielded to the light pressure. He drew me with him as he rolled onto his back, and with his arms encasing me I straddled his hips.

  His breath caught, his voice so gruff it was barely audible as he whispered against my mouth.

  “Babe, I need you.”

  I grabbed his wrists and pushed them up over his head, holding him down, and he made a soft sound. When I settled my weight on him I heard his ragged intake of air. Aware of every breath, every heartbeat, every movement he made, I began to slowly immerse him in a pleasure so intense it would swamp his senses. I didn’t care about myself. That wasn’t important.

  He whispered my name when I slid onto his erection, locking my hips to his. A low sound was dragged from him as he twisted his hands free. I bracketed his face and pressed my lips to his, my kiss insistent as I silently demanded he yield to me.

  Hauling in a ragged breath, he dragged his hands up my back, then back to my hips as I settled deeper on him. A tremor coursed through him, and I felt him struggle against the need I was creating; then, finally, he surrendered to it. I experienced a rush of emotion so overwhelming it left me unsteady, but I forced my body to respond, moving against him, pushing him deeper and deeper into the sensations.

  Wanting to give him all I have to give, I yielded my mouth fully to him, and he shuddered again and twisted beneath me, his words barely coherent as he ground out, “Savannah—babe—”

  I rode him, using my hips, drawing him with me, and he went rigid beneath me, suspended at the very edge of release. Overwhelmed by all the feelings I had for him, I leaned back, giving him the full depth of me as he arched up, tremors coursing through him while he climaxed deep inside me.

  Once again I cradled his face against my shoulder, holding him with every ounce of comfort I possessed while he shuddered through the aftermath.

  I held him like that for several moments, feeling so surrounded by him that it was almost as though he had opened his very soul and drawn me inside. And I closed my eyes, soaking up the feeling of him.

  Rory stirred, his fingers tangling in my hair as he turned my head, then covered my mouth in a soft, lingering kiss. He heaved a sigh, his tone heavily tinged with wonder as he whispered unevenly, “I’ve never yielded to a woman like that before. It felt so good.”

  “I love this feeling of being connected to you.” I brushed his mouth with a light kiss. But the kiss didn’t stay light for long. He caught the back of my neck and returned the kiss, his mouth soft against mine.

  Then I slipped off him and he nestled me to his side. I drifted into sleep.

  #

  Rory

  When I woke up the next morning, she was gone. And, there was something strange about her leaving like that, but when I tried to call her, I got voice mail.

  Antsy, I got up and ate breakfast, tried to work, but when she didn’t call me back, I texted her. Still no response.

  By mid-afternoon, I was frantic. I got in my car and drove over to her house. I knocked on the door and a very pretty older lady answered the door. Her face went pinched with her disapproval.

  “I’m looking for Savannah, ma’am.”

  “She’s not here. She’s gone to New York to be with the man she intends to marry.”

  “What? That can’t be true.”

  “I wouldn’t lie about that. She’s come to her senses and realizes that her family is more important than temporary flings.”

  She slammed the door in my face, and for a moment I couldn’t move. Then I staggered off the porch and got back into my car. I drove back to my shop, and as I drove, I started to get mad. Savannah wouldn’t have played me. She wouldn’t have made love to me like that last night if her heart hadn’t been committed.

  So what the fuck had happened? Why had she gone after that guy, the one she was supposed to marry? Could she have had second thoughts?

  I grabbed my paints and went upstairs to my room. Pulling out colors, I started drawing on my wall, and I couldn’t stop. All day I worked feverishly. It was the only thing that kept me sane.

  A week passed, and I still didn’t hear from her. So I called Boone.

  “Where’s Savannah?”

  Boone’s voice held sympathy. “Hey, man. She’s back, but she’s not very happy. Things are bad at home.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Rory, maybe you should give her some space, let her work this out.”

  “Fuck that. Did you wait with Verity?”

  “Hell, no. Good point.” He rattled off an address.

  I was halfway to the door when it opened and she walked in. For a moment I just stared at her, then I exploded. “What the hell is going on, Savannah? You don’t do that to a guy, then leave him hanging. I don’t give damn what you have to do. Whatever it is, tell me. We’ll work on this together.”

  “I can’t. I can’t do this. You have to leave me alone.”

  “Are you marrying that guy?”

  “It’s my business what I do. Stop calling me. It’s causing too much turmoil.”

  #

  Savannah

  I almost lost it. Right there, but I couldn’t let him be the one to suffer something even worse. I stepped back when he made a move toward me.

  “Savannah, don’t…don’t do this. He can’t love you as much as I can…I do. There
might not be any visible marks on me, but babe, you marked me. Indelibly. And it hurt so good. Now it just hurts.”

  When he said he loved me, I almost wavered, then I remembered that this was his dream. “I know how much it hurts. This isn’t easy for me, but I can’t handle it anymore. Please, just leave me alone.”

  I walked out, and scalding tears poured out of me until I was blinded. I made it back to Boone’s truck, went and dropped it off, but didn’t talk to him. I couldn’t talk to anyone.

  I went home, and as soon as I walked in the house, my momma was there. “I have left you alone, Savannah, for long enough. Did you set a date with Gray?”

  I whirled on her. “I want to go to college and see what I can accomplish. I don’t want to travel around following Gray. I’d just be an extension of him, which is exactly what I’m stuck doing now, with you. I want to plant things and watch them grow. I want to be who I am. Not a woman who marries my well-bred social equal and spends my days picking out silver patterns and planning officer luncheons.”

  “That’s a perfectly acceptable life.”

  “For you!” I shouted, reveling in the passion storming through me. “I can’t believe you. I would think that what I wanted in life would be more important than your fantasy of my life. I’m not an extension of you.”

  “Savannah, be reasonable,” she pleaded. “I only want the best for you. And, Gray…”

  “You might be able to force me to stop seeing Rory, but you can’t make me marry Gray. It’s. Never. Going. To. Happen. I’d die first. Do you understand me, momma? Never.”

  “Savannah…”

  “No! You made me give up the man I love. You made me hurt him. What more do you want?”

  “You couldn’t have wanted him that badly if you weren’t willing to fight for him,” she snapped.

  Those words hit me hard, and I burst into tears and ran upstairs. I stayed in my room. I refused to eat. I couldn’t sleep, except in fits and starts. After three days of that, River showed up.

  “I’m even more worried about you,” she said, coming into my room and wrapping her arms around me.