by Tina Donahue
Marnie leaned into him, loving his solid strength, heat and clean fragrance. She lifted her pastry, offering him a taste. “The portraits are so awesome, tourists might steal them.”
“I can outrun any visitor, especially in the heat.” With his hand wrapped around her wrist, he took a bite of the pastele. “They screw with your portraits, they’ll find out what a mean mother I can be.”
Perfect for a badass woman. Marnie turned into him, brushing her lips over his, both of their mouths bearing traces of the glaze. They kissed, tasting each other, moaning softly.
Someone whistled long and loud.
Marnie flinched. She and Tor turned to the front window. On the walk outside, two teenage boys gave them thumbs-up, both of the kids laughing.
Tor leaned down to her ear and whispered, “We better take this in the back.”
“Or charge admission.”
“There’s a plan. I’m always looking for ways to make more money.”
She finished the last of the pastele, holding back when he tried to lead her to the counter. “You’re sure doing my tats isn’t cutting into your time or earnings too much?”
“Positive.” He swooped down to kiss her briefly even though the boys had moved on. “All I ask is you don’t scream from the pain while I’m inking you. Passing out is optional.”
“Pain?”
He studied her face. “Didn’t anyone tell you this might hurt? I will be using needles.”
Somehow, Marnie hadn’t considered the uncomfortable part of the process.
“Hey,” he said, smiling suddenly. “I’m only kidding. Stupidly, I can see.” Sobering, he cupped her face. “There will be some discomfort around the areas that don’t have a lot of meat on them, your knee and elbow mainly. But the feeling is more like a paper cut, or a prick from a needle, not a, ah…”
He didn’t finish, embarrassment flooding his features.
Marnie guessed he’d been ready to say getting a tattoo wasn’t like being stabbed with a large knife. She felt worse for him than she did for herself. “Hey, let’s get something clear from the start. It’s okay to mention what happened to me.” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and squeezed gently. “Maybe if my relatives had acknowledged what my mother was going through, things might not have gotten so bad. No reason to pretend the past didn’t happen. Only makes things worse. Remember, I’m not going to break.”
“Did you forget I might?”
Smiling, she dropped her hand and smacked his ass. “You’re tougher than that. Come on, let’s get this baby started. Wait.” She stopped him before he could grab the paperwork from the counter. “What part of me are you going to start on?”
“Before or after you take off your clothes?”
Marnie bumped her shoulder against his. “Be serious. You’re going to strip too, right?”
Tor laughed. “I think this might be the best session I’ll ever have.” He gave her a bear hug, rocking Marnie back and forth.
With her cheek pressed against his shoulder, she embraced him in return. Several seconds had passed when she caught movement in her peripheral vision—a glimpse of someone turning away quickly from the front window and moving past. Wasn’t one of the boys who’d been outside earlier. From the brief glance she’d had, the build belonged to a man.
Watching them?
To have a couple of kids acting goofy over seeing a kiss was one thing. Having an adult peeping at her and Tor was kind of creepy.
“Let’s go in the back,” she said, not wanting to draw a crowd.
Tor’s station smelled of disinfectant, the area scrupulously clean, the same as her mother’s kitchen had always been.
She sat next to his desk, the bag of pastries on her lap. Marnie considered what she’d said earlier about mentioning the past—the truth will set you free and all that. Big talk from someone who was afraid to reveal what she’d gone through with Ethan. The signs she’d refused to see. A quick temper. Being slow to forgive. Finding fault. Not a lot at first, minor stuff she didn’t notice until his criticisms were never-ending, the same as her father with her mother.
Yeah, that’s what she hadn’t told Tor, and how she still lived her life in the shadows. In the back of her mind Marnie always wondered where Ethan was, what he was doing, what he had planned.
Tor touched her wrist. She jumped.
“Whoa,” he said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Marnie was doing a fine job herself without any help from him. “You didn’t. We ready?”
“Not until you do this.” He tapped the paperwork he’d put in front of her, then inclined his head at a pen to the side. She’d been so deep in thought she hadn’t noticed him offering either item.
“I know it’s a bitch,” he said, “but either you fill out the forms, or the state will have my balls.”
Marnie cupped them through his jeans, loving how weighty and warm they were. “Not while I’m around.”
Tor blew out the breath he’d just taken. “Sounds good to me.” After easing her hand from him, he kissed her knuckles and sank to one knee at her side. “You’re sure about this? You seem kind of scared. No judgment, simply an observation.”
Marnie kissed his cheek, smiling at his stubble, at him remembering not to shave. “I don’t want to be anywhere else. Let me get through this stuff. Get your things ready while I do. Where should I put these?” She held up the bag.
Tor put the treats in one of the cabinets. “For later, if you’re good.”
“Sure you want me to be?”
He wagged his finger at her, offered a smile and set to work. After disinfecting the already clean area where he was going to work, Tor washed his hands.
Marnie smiled. “You’re beginning to remind me of McDreamy on Grey’s Anatomy.”
“My hair’s better.”
Hell, everything about him was.
Once he’d dried off, he gathered a series of packages Marnie guessed held sterile needles and pulled a pair of dark latex gloves from a dispenser on the wall.
This was really going to happen. Excitement and a bit of anxiety raced through her. “I’d like this to be totally private.”
“No problem.” He pushed the door shut with his foot and continued his preparations.
Not wanting to keep him waiting, Marnie filled in the necessary blanks on the papers, pausing at the one for her driver’s license number. She was ready to write ‘don’t drive’, when she decided to provide the number. No way could the information lead Ethan to her, if he was even looking any longer.
Marnie hoped to God he wasn’t.
She moved on to the medical history next, a series of yes-or-no questions regarding allergies, current medications, STDs, blood diseases and the like.
Finished, she turned to Tor. His gaze was already on her, affection and desire in his eyes.
“If you’re ready,” he said, “you need to take off your top.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
She pulled off the peasant blouse she’d worn the first time Tor had seen her. The other day, he’d explained how loose sleeves were better than snug ones against a new tattoo—if she didn’t have a sleeveless top. Marnie hadn’t owned one since she’d turned twelve. Shorts either. Gym in high school had been torture, considering the uniform she’d had to wear. Even though none of the other girls had made fun, she’d seen them staring.
She looked at the scars on her arm now, horribly obvious in the harsh light. Although stitches had closed the gaping wounds—as they’d had on her leg—the treatment had left maroon fissures in some areas, puffy and uneven skin in others, some of her flesh stark white. A world of difference from her natural complexion.
Tor didn’t say anything. He gave her space and time, merely turning on the sound system, keeping the volume low on a sultry Latin tune from a group she hadn’t heard before.
Marnie swayed her hips to the hypnotic beat. “Nice. I like.”
“Me too.” He stared at her bra.
Tor laughed quietly. “The chair might be best. I don’t want to make a mistake and have your tat looking like the ones on Van Gogh’s arms.”
Good point. Van Gogh looked as if he’d been in the middle of a gangland war. She settled in the chair, trembling slightly at the cool leather against her skin. “Whoa, cold, but I’m good.”
“I know. Talk if you want. Fall asleep. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
“I’d like to watch. Seeing you work fascinates me.”
Smiling, Tor pulled on his gloves and shaved her arm where the tattoo would be, finishing up by disinfecting the same area with a liquid smelling of alcohol. While her skin was drying, he held up a thin piece of paper with the design he’d created for her.
“You’re good with this?” he asked. “Don’t want any changes?”
“No way. Your work looks even better today than when you had it hanging on your wall.”
Tor chuckled. “The tat will be great on your skin. This is transfer paper,” he said, glancing at the design. “One side is shiny, the other dark. I’m going to lay the dark side on your arm to transfer the design.”
“Thus the name.”
“Bingo. You’re a fast learner.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re babying me.”
“Not yet, but I will.” He lowered the design. “I’m going to dampen your skin a bit so the paper sticks. Won’t hurt at all.”
With his hand wrapped around her upper arm and his fingers stroking the other areas with a damp cloth, Marnie was relaxed, heading toward arousal. “Wow. If I’d known the process would be this wonderful, I would have come in earlier.”
“I’m glad you’re here now.”
She was too.
“Okay, I’m ready to transfer the design to your arm,” he said. “If you move, the ink will smear. Keep as still as you can.”
“I will, I swear.” She even held her breath.
Gently, Tor pressed the paper to her arm, touching every part of the design, his expression intense with concentration. When she finally had to take a breath, Marnie did so carefully.
“Done.” He peeled the paper off her and nodded. “Looks good. Go to the mirror over there and check it out. Make sure the design’s as large as you want and in the position you prefer.”
Marnie regarded the purplish ink on her arm, stunned at how the image he’d drawn from memory hid her scars. She held back a squeal of joy. “Looks great. The artwork’s perfect.”
“Better watch what you say or you’ll be giving me a swelled head.”
She turned. “Not without my mouth, hands, or pussy I won’t.”
Tor lowered his face, though not before she caught his blush.
“Lucky no one’s here,” he said. “And we have the door closed.”
“There are still the security monitors.” After blowing a kiss at the camera, Marnie turned to him. “Want to wave?”
“No need. I’m erasing the images as soon as we’re through. Today’s for you and me.”
Absolutely. She sank back into the chair. “What now?”
“I do the outline today, nothing else. Since this is your first time, I don’t want to tax you, and not because I’m afraid you’re going to break. You’re a virgin at this. Color will come after you heal. Two weeks probably, though you might take longer. We’ll have to see. Next Wednesday, I’ll do your leg. While that outline is healing, your arm should be good to go the following Wednesday. However, as I said, I don’t want to rush anything. You don’t want your design to get screwed up and I sure as hell don’t want to cause you unnecessary pain.”
“You haven’t. You won’t. I’m good with whatever you say. I’m amazed I get to be a virgin again.”
He winked. “Let’s get started.”
Although Tor was confident in his skill and could practically ink blindfolded, working on Marnie made him jittery as hell. Kind of like a surgeon operating on a loved one. If the person beneath the knife—or needle in this case—was a stranger, the stakes didn’t seem as high. Mistakes were understandable, as long as they were minor and went unnoticed by the client.
With Marnie, Tor wouldn’t allow anything except perfection, which slowed his progress to a crawl. Each time she breathed, he froze, thinking he’d hurt her.
“Are you hot?” she asked.
Not particularly. If anything, Tor felt oddly numb, except for his hammering heart. If he kept this up, she’d have to baby him tonight. “No. Why?”
“Your face is sweaty. Hand me one of those cloths and I’ll blot your forehead.”
Tor noticed she hadn’t asked if anything was wrong with her design…if a fuck-up had made him perspire so badly. He gave her one of the cloths.
Her touch was lighter than a sigh. Despite taking care of him, she didn’t move her arm in the least. Could be her limb had fallen asleep. “Thanks. You doing all right? Need to get up and move around or anything?”
“I’m good. Watching what you’re doing keeps my mind off the sting.”
Too bad her attention made Tor painfully aware of each move he made. He stretched his neck. His shoulder popped loud enough to hear.
“Would you prefer I not watch?” Marnie asked. “Am I making you nervous?”
He laughed self-consciously. “You know I’ve done this hundreds of times. Maybe a thousand. But never to you.”
“What you’ve inked so far looks beautiful. Take a deep breath, lean back and look at the whole thing, not the small part you’ve been working on for the last ten minutes.”
Clearly, he needed to hide his uncertainty from her. He heaved in air and made a conscious effort to calm down. Once he had, Tor regarded her tat and smiled. The outline looked fucking amazing—except for one spot he needed to align a little better.
Five minutes later, he sighed. “So far, so good. Nearly half done.”
“And no one’s come in here to bother you.”
He’d been at her tat so long, the others had already shown up for today’s clients. Minutes before, Lauren’s greeting had sounded down the hall, followed by Van Gogh’s muttered, “Afternoon,” Jasmina’s listless, “Hey,” and the cheerier responses from the new artists who’d recently joined the parlor.
“Jasmina and Van Gogh always so down?” Marnie asked.
Tor wiped away a spot of ink and continued. “He’s more moody than down. You know, artistic. Jasmina was bubbly as hell until she broke things off with her boyfriend.”
“He cheat on her?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Breaking up with a guy is either because he’s screwing around, drinking, doing drugs, or—” She stopped and tensed.
Tor eased the needle away immediately. “That hurt?”
“No.” For the first time, Marnie looked past him rather than meeting his eyes or staring at the tat.
Tor figured something was up. Not wanting to give her the third degree, he decided to change the subject. Lighten the mood until she was ready to say what was on her mind. “Hope you’re working on an appetite. I asked Rafe to put together a care package for us with what we ordered last time, along with some new stuff to try. I figured you wouldn’t want to go to the restaurant with your arm wrapped up.”
Marnie finally turned to him. “Abuse,” she said. “The other reason a woman breaks up with a guy.”
Her cheeks flushed a dark red, as though she was remembering her mother and father’s problems.
Tor nodded. “Totally understandable.”
She regarded him for a long moment, as if she wanted to say something more but didn’t know how.
“What?” he asked.
Marnie sighed. “Nothing. I mean, Jasmina doesn’t strike me as the type to put up with that crap.”
“She’s not. Any guy lays a finger on her, his mistake
would be his last conscious act on earth.”
“Good for her. I’d love to meet your uncle but not today. You’re right. I’d rather we eat at your place. How long? Ten, twelve more hours?”
He gave her a look. “A couple more at the most. I’m being careful here.”
“You’re trying to be perfect. Relax. I won’t be demanding until we get into bed.”
He laughed. “Great. No pressure.”
“Want to try something different tonight?”
Tor finished the spot he’d been working on and lifted his face. “Kink?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“What’s that mean?”
“You’ll see.”
Marnie wasn’t certain whether her pep talk or promise of what they’d do tonight had settled Tor. He suddenly breezed through the rest of the outline, though still taking care, his focus on getting the job done rather than on his fear of hurting her or screwing up the tat.
She’d almost told him about Ethan when they’d been discussing Jasmina’s problems. In the end, Marnie couldn’t. Dumping stuff on Tor while he was working on her arm wouldn’t have been fair. He was a great guy but he was only human. If he’d had enough of her problems, he would have had no chance to politely beg off and go his own way.
Of course, to let days or weeks roll by without saying anything didn’t seem fair to him either. When she did finally reveal everything, Marnie didn’t want Tor to think she’d held back because her tats weren’t finished or because she had no way to pay for them if her portraits didn’t sell.
“Do you really think your sketches of me will cover the work you’re doing?” she asked, regarding the outline he’d just completed. Even though there was only a hint of what was to come, the artwork was still spectacular and had already hidden a lot of her scarring.
“Yep. Look good?”
“Oh yeah. What now?”
“I clean your skin again, apply ointment, cover you up and we take off for the rest of our day.”
He moved swiftly and expertly through the last of her session.
As they left his station, Lauren was coming down the hall. She gave Marnie a warm smile.
