Mel chuckled, then reached forward to slide her hands around Regan’s waist, pushing underneath her T-shirt. She moved her hands to caress Regan’s stomach before sliding them up to palm full breasts through her cotton bra.
“These are perfect, too,” Mel said.
Regan snorted and shot an amused smirk at Mel, who stared at the breasts she cupped in her hands with happy eyes. “There’s the pervert I know and love.”
Mel tore her gaze away from Regan’s chest to stare up into green eyes. “I can’t help it if your breasts turn me into a drooling, horny fifteen-year-old boy.” She lowered her eyes again as she rubbed reverent thumbs over cloth-covered nipples.
“I was under the impression that you’ve always been a drooling, horny fifteen-year-old boy,” she murmured.
“Not like this,” Mel said, and squeezed Regan’s breasts gently. “I swear. They’re addictive. Like crack.”
Regan tipped back her head and produced a laugh that sent shivers of pleasure to the tips of Mel’s toes. Hearing Regan’s joy was her new favorite thing in the world.
When Regan stopped laughing, she wiped her eyes and shook her head. “Baby, we really should think about getting going if we want to make it to Chicago relatively soon.”
Mel scowled and dropped her hands from Regan’s breasts with a frown. “All right.”
“Don’t look so sad. I let you play with them all the time.”
Mel nodded and moved as if to stand, but stopped before she pushed off with her hands, giving her lover a careful look. “Hey, Regan?”
“Yeah?”
“May I suggest something to do in Des Moines?” Mel asked.
Regan looked surprised. “There’s something specific you want to do in Des Moines?”
“Actually, yeah,” Mel said. “Um, when we were in that Internet café?”
“Yeah?”
“I was kind of looking up some stuff. Well, you know how I said I wanted to get a tattoo?”
“Yes,” Regan said. Smiling, she gestured at the air around them. “To remember all of this.”
“Yeah, so I read some reviews for tattoo shops in and around Des Moines and I’ve got the name of a place that’s supposed to be really nice.”
“You want to get a tattoo tomorrow?” Regan asked. She looked intrigued.
“I do,” Mel said. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this.” For whatever reason, she had decided that this was important to do.
“Do you know what you want to get? And where?”
Pointing at the truck, Mel asked, “Can I get my drawing pad out of… It’ll just take a minute or two…”
Regan nodded and shooed Mel away with an eager hand. “Yes! Go, definitely. You drew something?”
Mel was on her feet and jogging to the truck by the time Regan got the question out there, and she called back over her shoulder, “I found a bunch of websites on symbols and Celtic imagery online. I sketched a couple of ideas out.”
“That’s awesome, Mel,” Regan said. “I can’t wait to see them.”
She found her drawing pad in the truck and rejoined Regan on the blanket. Sitting cross-legged, she settled the drawing pad on her lap and tried to ignore a familiar twinge of anxiety at the thought of sharing her work.
“This is so great,” Regan gushed. “You’re such a good artist, Mel, I think it’s a wonderful idea to design your own tattoo.”
The heartfelt words bolstered her confidence, and she gave Regan a pleased smile. “Thanks. I told myself I’d never get a tattoo unless it would really mean something to me. And it’s incredibly meaningful to me to draw it because you’ve given me back my art.”
Regan’s eyes shone with emotion. “Given you back—”
Mel ducked her head and flipped open her drawing pad to the page where she had sketched out some designs just the night before. “What do you think about this one?”
Regan accepted the interruption, and leaned over to examine her drawings; all but one on this page were light, incomplete, but in the lower left hand corner she had drawn a dark, bold design. Mel glanced up and watched Regan’s eyes find the final product.
“What is it?” Regan asked.
“It’s called the Druid Spiral of Life,” Mel said. It was an almost triangular design with three distinct spirals, all meeting in the center, drawn with one line without a beginning or end. “It’s supposed to represent life, death, and rebirth.” Mel pointed at the Celtic knotwork she had drawn branching from either side of the symbol. “I added that because I thought it might look better if it were a bit longer.”
Regan hummed in approval. “It’s beautiful, baby, perfect. Appropriate.” She bumped Mel’s shoulder with her own, giving her a light smile. “Look better, where? Where do you want to get it?”
“At first I was thinking one of two places,” Mel said. “My upper arm or lower back. When I added the knotwork, it was because I’m leaning toward doing the lower back and I thought that would look nice. I’ve always wanted one there.”
Regan uttered a low, throaty groan, shifting where she sat. “Lower back,” she said in a voice hoarse with familiar arousal. “That sounds so painful, but I can’t think of anything sexier.”
On the basis of that moan alone, Mel decided that she was willing to take a little pain for the greater good. “So you approve?”
Regan shot her a lecherous grin. “I’ll enjoy looking at it whenever I’m behind you. Among other things.”
Mel poked Regan in the ribs lightly and returned her grin. Then, sucking in a breath, she said, “I have a few more drawings.”
“Yeah? Let me see.”
She flipped to the next page, and nodded in approval when Regan reached to take the pad onto her lap.
“Oh, my God, Mel.” Regan moved her eyes up and down the page, taking in various half-sketches and outlines, and then the finished design at the center of the page. “Oh, this is so cool!”
Mel beamed over at Regan, studying the freckles on the bridge of her lover’s nose. “It’s for you.”
After a brief, startled look, Regan dropped her eyes back down to the page. The culmination of Mel’s work, the final drawing, was a relatively simple labrys, light on detail, but drawn with bold and powerful lines. She tried to gauge Regan’s reaction to the sight of the double-headed axe.
“For me?” Regan looked up at Mel for a moment, then down at the page again. “I don’t—”
Mel winced, rushing to cut off Regan’s speech. “I’m not trying to…I mean, you sounded like you might be interested in a tattoo and I saw some labrys designs online and thought of you. But you don’t have to use it. You don’t even have to get a tattoo, if you don’t want one, it’s just that you said before—”
Regan stopped Mel’s rambling speech with soft fingers pressed against her lips. “Baby, I am interested in getting a tattoo. Scared, yes, but definitely interested. And this…” she looked back down at the labrys, shaking her head as an awed smile tugged at her mouth. “I’ve fantasized before about getting a labrys tattoo, actually. I couldn’t believe it when I saw your drawing. And I would be honored. This is amazing, baby, but I don’t know—Don’t you think it’s a little strong for someone like me?”
“Strong?” Mel reached out and traced her fingers over Regan’s hot cheek. “That’s why it made me think of you, baby. You’re my strong, independent, beautiful woman and I think it fits.”
“I don’t always feel strong.”
“Then let it be a reminder,” Mel whispered. She leaned forward and gave Regan a gentle kiss, then murmured against soft lips, “Like mine will be.”
Regan smiled against Mel’s mouth, and Mel smiled back. “Thank you,” Regan said. “This is a wonderful gift.”
Determined to accept her gratitude with some measure of tact, Mel said, “You’re welcome.” She reached up to tug on her eyebrow. “So where do you think you’ll get it?”
“I thought you said Des Moines.”
Mel nudged her over until she was off-bal
ance and had to plant a hand on the ground to stop from toppling over. “Where on your body, goofy girl?”
“Ah,” Regan said. “Nothing that seems overly painful. I was thinking of my upper arm. The right one.”
Mel reached over and placed her palm on a spot near Regan’s bicep. “Right here?”
“Yeah. What do you think?”
“It’ll be beautiful.” Sighing, Mel cast regretful eyes over to the cooler. “We should go, right?”
“Right.” Regan stood up, brushing off the seat of her jeans, and offered Mel a hand. “As much as I don’t want to.”
Mel let Regan help haul her to her feet. “I know.”
With some horror, she wondered if she had just missed the perfect moment for the ring she was carrying around in her bag, then decided she couldn’t think like that. There was no way there would only be one right moment with Regan. If she could work up the nerve, any moment would be the right moment.
Hell, she’s choosing to wear my art forever. Why wouldn’t she wear my ring?
Chapter Eighteen
“REGAN!”
Regan cringed a little at the excitement in her father’s voice. Clearly she needed to call home more often.
“It’s good to hear from you, sweet pea. What’s going on?” he asked.
“I’m okay,” she said, grinning slightly at the childhood nickname. “I’m sorry I haven’t called in a little while. I’ve been really busy.”
“Yeah? How’s the job?”
Regan suppressed a tired sigh. The job, of course. Why would anything else be keeping her busy? With her father, it had always been about school and work. She felt Mel’s hand land on her knee, and the contact soothed her frustration. Gazing across the steering wheel to the front door of a Chinese buffet, she said, “It’s okay. It’s a job.”
They were parked in downtown Des Moines, en route to her parents’ house.
“So, how’s the assistant principal business?” she forged on with the requisite small talk. “Kids eating you alive yet?”
Brendan O’Riley groaned. “You wouldn’t believe the group of kids we’ve got right now. I swear each year brings more discipline problems than the last.”
Oh, I’d believe it. I’m no stranger to that particularly evil breed of animal called the high school student. “Well, I don’t envy you. The best thing I ever did was leave high school behind.” But they’d never talked about that, and she wasn’t about to start now. “Actually Dad, I’m calling you for a reason.”
“What’s that, pumpkin?”
Regan glanced at Mel, smiling at the warm support she saw in her eyes. “I’m actually in Des Moines, Iowa right now, on my way back to Michigan.”
“Are you on a business trip?” Her father sounded rather confused by the idea that she would be anywhere other than where he would have expected her to be.
“No. More like a vacation, really.”
She heard her father sigh and stiffened her shoulders, bracing herself for some kind of overbearing comment. He didn’t disappoint.
“I hope you let somebody know you were going on a vacation out-of-state before you left.”
“I did,” she said, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice. She felt Mel squeeze her fingers, and closed her eyes in an effort to regain her calm. Easy. He just loves you, he’s not trying to make a statement about your having a lack of common sense. She softened her tone. “Adam knows. He’s taking care of my mail and stuff while I’m gone.”
“Good. I just get worried when I find out that you’re running around the country and I had no idea you’d even left home.” Her father paused a moment, then said, “Wait, Adam isn’t with you? Are you all alone?”
Regan managed a nervous smile as the moment of truth arrived. “Actually, no, I’m not.”
“Oh.” A vague air of discomfort arose between them, as he seemed to sense what she was implying.
“We’re going to be driving right by Chicago on our way home, so I wanted to call and see if I could stop by and visit, maybe overnight.”
“That’d be wonderful, honey.” There was genuine pleasure in his voice, enough that Regan couldn’t help but smile at it. “It’s been too long since you’ve come home.”
“I know, I know. And for that I’m sorry.” Squeezing Mel’s hand for support, she added, “I have somebody with me I really want you and Mom to meet.”
For a moment her father said nothing, and then, “This is a girlfriend?”
“Yes. Her name is Mel, and she’s someone very special to me.”
“I didn’t realize you were seeing anyone.” He cleared his throat, and continued in a gentle, but hesitant, tone. “That’s great, sweetheart. I look forward to meeting someone who means that much to you. If you like her, she really must be something special.”
Regan was left momentarily speechless at the genuine warmth in her father’s voice. While she could also hear his slight discomfort, he was doing an admirable job of hiding it. “Thanks, Dad. She is.”
“Your mother will be thrilled.”
Regan couldn’t help but snort a little at the idea of Carla O’Riley, every inch the restrained accountant, acting thrilled about anything. “Great. We’ll probably get into town tomorrow afternoon.”
“Sounds good. I’m sure we’ll be around, but if we’re not you remember where the spare key is kept, right?”
Regan bit back a laugh. “I remember.” She fidgeted in her seat, ready to get off the phone. “Okay, so… I love you and I’ll see you soon.”
“Love you, too. Be careful and be good.”
This time Regan did roll her eyes, looking up at the Chinese buffet in front of which she’d parked her truck with a wide grin. “I will,” she promised.
She turned to smirk at Mel after they said their goodbyes. “That was fun.”
“It sounded like it went okay.”
“It did. He said he was looking forward to meeting you. That if I like you, you must be something special.”
Mel’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of red. “I appreciate that you warned him about me. I would have been really nervous surprising them, especially being the first one introduced and all.”
“I wouldn’t say I was warning him…more like preparing him.” She gave Mel an understanding smile. “Honestly, he seemed a little uncomfortable at first, but then he just seemed nice or something. Like he was making an effort.” She wrinkled her nose in thought. “I guess it actually went really well.”
“Warning, preparing. Either way, thank you.”
“I’d never make you a part of an ambush, honey. I would never do that to you. Especially after what happened to you with your father.” There was no way she’d ever risk making Mel go through something like that again. The mere thought was painful. “I love you.” She leaned over and gave Mel a peck on her cheek, then pulled back with a mischievous smile. “He also told me to ‘be careful and be good’.”
Mel snickered. “I promise to keep you safe, but I can’t in good conscience encourage you to behave. Besides, it would be against your nature.”
“And on that note,” Regan said, and nodded toward the building a few doors along from the Chinese restaurant. Her nervousness over speaking to her father dissipated in favor of nervousness over where they were. “We’re really going to do this, aren’t we?”
Mel grinned at the tattoo shop. The building itself was nondescript, but the glass windows were tinted and covered with posters and a neon Open sign. “I am, at least.” She gave Regan a serious look. “You shouldn’t do it unless you’re absolutely sure you want to do it. For real.”
“You know, if you’d told me two weeks ago that I’d be sitting in Des Moines, about to get a tattoo, I’d have told you that you were cracked.”
Regan could barely imagine walking into the shop, let alone the whole process of talking to the artist and sitting there while a permanent design was tortuously needled into her skin. She felt silly about her fears. Mel had been bursting with excitemen
t all morning, and Regan wondered why she couldn’t produce the same nonchalance. This wasn’t that big a deal, after all.
“I’ll be right there next to you and I promise to hold your hand the entire time,” Mel said with gentle empathy. “You can squeeze the life out of me if you want. I’ll do whatever I can to make it the best possible experience for you.”
Feeling her stomach unclench and relax at the soothing timbre of Mel’s voice, she set her shoulders and steeled her nerve. “I’m ready. Let’s do it.”
“You sure?” Mel’s eyes were serious, but her mouth quirked into an excited grin.
Regan grinned back. “Yeah. I’ve always wanted to do that whole young and impulsive thing, so I’m going to try and be brave.”
Mel leaned forward and took Regan’s mouth in a sudden kiss, running her tongue along her lip before slipping it inside. Regan moaned into the kiss, swept up in the spontaneity and passion of it, and felt fierce arousal mingle with her lingering fear. The heady feeling left her wet and weak.
Mel drew back to exchange a wicked grin with her, then said, “Let’s do it.”
The store was moderately crowded. Several young women stood together at the counter, poring over an album of artwork, and two men who looked like they were in their early thirties sat in plastic chairs that lined the wall. For a moment Regan stood stock still, flustered at the unfamiliar environment. But before she started to really panic, a strong hand pressed against the small of her back and Mel guided her to the end of the row of plastic seats, in a darker corner of the shop.
“Why don’t you sit over here and look at some of the binders, baby?” Mel picked up an album full of photos and hand-drawn pictures that served as samples from the shop’s artists and placed it in Regan’s lap. “I’m going to go check things out and then I’ll come back and sit with you.”
Regan took the binder with a tight smile. “Okay.”
Her confidence grew at Mel’s too-wide grin, and the sight of her strolling to the front counter with an easy air of self-assurance. Absently, she flipped through the album, glancing at photographs of tattoos and hand-drawn ink sketches. Mel’s work compared favorably with the best of the store’s samples. Playing with that thought, Regan lifted her eyes to search for her lover.
Infinite Loop Page 28
