She looked up to find him looking at her and realized she’d gotten absorbed in looking for different pictures. And he had that heart bursting half smirk on his face. She must have looked like an idiot following his lines around the room in search of the next image.
“Uh, did you do this to your walls?” she asked, trying to cover her embarrassment.
“Yeah, it’s called linework, it’s a good thing to get good at in this business.”
“Well, I’d say you’ve mastered it. I can’t find one mistake or wavy line.”
“Thank you,” he said, seeming uncomfortable with the praise, “did you want to see the art I worked up for you… Fern?” he practically purred her name and she felt it shiver down her spine.
She did want to see what he’d drawn but even more she wanted to know if he had actually called dibs on her. She didn’t want to be flattered, but she couldn’t help herself. Who wouldn’t be flattered if a man like that was interested in her.
“Sure,” she tried to sound confident while walking over to him. But maybe he wasn’t interested in her, maybe he was just interested in the art, making a common phoenix tattoo into something that didn’t look quite so common.
He pulled a piece of paper out from under a notebook and held it over the desk for her to inspect.
It was a phoenix, rising out of flames, but it was extraordinary. The colors melding into the paper like it had been born there instead of having been drawn with pencils and markers. It wasn’t quite the same water color style she’d seen in the binder, it was more like a modern art take on a phoenix with heavily stylized lines and deep colors that blended in uncanny ways.
Surprisingly, tears came to her eyes. When she’d picked the phoenix rising motif she’d known it was something a lot of people choose, because a lot of people can relate to starting over, to beginning anew. Letting the ashes of your old life fall away and reveal the new you resonates deeply with a lot of people, not just her.
But this image seemed like more to her. And she didn’t know how, but it felt like he’d captured a part of her and put it on the canvas.
She wiped the tear away and looked closer, there were even fern leaves clasped in the claws of the bird.
She let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding, “I love it.”
“I’m so glad.” He smiled down at the drawing as if it were a child who had done well. “So, how soon would you like to start it?”
Then it hit her, she was going to have to ask about price and this drawing was dramatically larger than what she had asked for.
He must have been able to see the indecision on her face, “Would you like to see how it would look on you? The outline at least. I can make a copy of it on a special kind of paper that will transfer the outline of it to your skin.”
She bit her lip and nodded, she did want to see how it’d look.
“Um, well I’m going to turn around here and get that going but you’re going to need to take that off,” he tugged at her shirt, “and sit on the chair there.”
Take her shirt off in front of a man she didn’t even know. A man who could smile at her and make her flush. No she couldn’t…
“Hey, relax. It’s ok, it’s just part of my job. Think of it like I’m a doctor.”
She nodded even though everything inside her body was telling her to run. Well, almost everything. There was a small part of her that was telling her to strip naked and jump on him. But she was ignoring that part of herself, because obviously it had no shame, whereas she definitely did!
His back was turned to her as he worked, using a computer and special printer to prep the transfer he was going to put on her, and she quickly undid the buttons of her long sleeved blouse. It came down to mid-thigh and all she’d worn under it was a pair of tights. They were opaque but if she’d known she would be taking her shirt off then she wouldn’t have worn something so tight.
She clutched the shirt across her chest, at least the bra was decent, and not one of the ratty ones she kept because they were so comfortable. She was glad she had opted for wires sticking into her ribcage over comfort.
He turned back to her, she was sitting on the cushioned table slash chair and trying to hold her shirt over as much of her chest as she could.
He seemed to gather his thoughts and walk around the table to her back, where she was completely bare. But she wasn’t going to think about that.
She lowered her head, teeth set, heart racing. Why was this so tense? People saw more of her body on the beach when she wore a bikini, which she hadn’t done since she was a teenager, but still. It wasn’t like she was standing in front of him nude.
She took a calming breath. This was ok. This was fine.
And then he touched her and things were most definitely not fine. She felt his hand run over her skin leaving a trail of fire in its wake and she took another intake of breath, this one sharp and fast.
From behind her he cleared his throat before speaking, “Where did you want it? It’s a little too big for your shoulder.”
The deep rumble as he spoke sent shivers down her spine. He was so close she could almost feel his voice tremble across her skin. She shivered.
“Where ever you think is best,” she almost whispered.
His hand touched her again, this time he slipped a couple of fingers under her bra strap, his knuckles grazing her skin.
“You’re going to have to take this off,” his fingers slid back and forth caressing her skin, “Unless you want me to unhook it for you.”
She nodded, unable to speak, knowing she’d drop her shirt if she had to reach behind herself to undo her bra, and also knowing that having his hands on her any longer was dangerous.
He laid the picture covered paper beside her hand and she felt his hands on her back. She could hear him breathing.
Was it possible that he was being just as affected by their closeness as she was? The thought of him being aroused did nothing but heighten her own arousal, which was already ridiculous considering he’d only grazed her skin with his knuckles.
She felt him press the paper to her back and press a warm sponge against it to set the stencil marks into her skin. It only took a few minutes but time was moving slowly. Every second felt like an hour, and each movement of his hands seemed amplified to the extreme.
How could something as simple as this affect her this way?
“There, come over here and look at it,” his voice seemed to break the breathless spell she was under.
She wasn’t sure her legs would carry her but she hopped off the bench anyway and to her relief she walked over to the mirror without falling to the ground at his feet in a hormonal blob. Careful not to touch him or look him in the eye, she didn’t want to give into base urges and jump him right there in the shop, she turned around and tried to get a good look at his work. God, had she ever felt so insanely attracted to someone she hardly even knew?
“Hold on, I’ll get another mirror so you can see better.” He went over to a counter and opened a drawer pulling out a large handheld mirror.
He held the mirror for her, and what she saw made her almost forget that he was standing there.
It was just the outline, and it was kind of purple, but even still it was a thing of beauty. The shapes of the flames and the wings of the phoenix complementing her shape so gracefully that it looked like something she could have been born with. A very, very intricate birthmark.
It was more than just a tattoo, it was almost an extension of herself, of the person she was becoming. She wanted it more than she had wanted anything in a long time. She needed it.
And then she remembered money was a thing.
But she loved it so much… she waffled there looking at it. Maybe she could get it if she let something slide for the month…
No, no she wouldn’t do that. She had a child and a household to think of. Her responsibilities came first, even if it was the only thing she’d wanted for herself in a long time.
Maybe he’d
let her have a copy of the artwork. The least she could do was ask. Then she could frame it and hang it up somewhere to remind her of this new person who was brave enough to walk into a tattoo parlor, get flirted with by the hottest man alive, and then take her shirt off in front of him. That was something she never would have, could have, done before.
She saw the pride on his face as he looked at his artwork on her back, “It’s so big…” It was perfect, but she couldn’t afford it.
He laughed and gave her a sideways grin, “I’ve heard that a time or two before.”
Fern flushed down to the roots of her hair. “The tattoo, I mean, it’s big and I, um, well, I doubt I can, uh, pay for it.”
His brow creased as if he had never considered the fact that she might not be able to afford the huge piece of art he’d created for her. She waited, shirt clasped to her chest as she watched the thoughts clearly rolling through his mind and reflect on his face.
“How about this, I’ve been meaning to get some new marketing materials made. After the tattoo is done if you’ll pose for some photographs we’ll just call it even.”
“Me?” Fern was incredulous, she was average at best.
“Yes, you!” he smiled at her and he was so close that she almost couldn’t breathe. “Wouldn’t you love to see your face up on a billboard?” he asked, leaning in a little closer to her.
Her face on a billboard? Her heart sped up and she felt a panic attack about to overtake her. Her face on a billboard where everyone could see it, where a very specific someone might see it. Might see it and then know she’d never left town, just moved down into the lower echelon of real estate. Her heart started racing and she completely forgot about the man in front of her while she let the fear of another man take over her mind.
“No, No, I can’t, I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. I didn’t mean to take up your time!”
Without caring what he got a glimpse of she slung the shirt back over her head in one motion. Sliding the straps of her bra up her shoulders and walking out the door at the same time.
“Hey wait, what’s wro – “
“No really, it’s beautiful, I just… I just can’t.” She was hooking her bra under her shirt as she backed out of the shop and back onto the street. The little bell dinging to signal her departure.
Dax lazily toyed with the small knickknack Sandy had sitting on the coffee table. It was some kind of stylized bird carved out of wood. Probably given to her by one of those freaky people she was always hanging around. They’d probably made it from wood reclaimed for a church that used to double as a slave auction house and now this bird was a symbol of freedom from oppression. Or something.
Whatever. It was a bird and it reminded him of the mythical bird he’d wanted to put on a pretty girl’s back. Actually just about everything reminded him of that girl.
Fern. He smiled and looked at the underside of his wrist where an oak leave was tattooed. Out of all the big pieces he had over his body that had probably been the most painful, and the most meaningful.
Was it a sign that there was a girl who was named for foliage that he couldn’t get out of his mind? Probably not. Maybe he was just obsessed with greenery.
He felt obsessed. Everything he saw reminded him of her, everything he touched reminded him that he wasn’t touching her. He’d lain down the night before and when the sheet ran across his body he remembered the way his hand had run across her back, and the sheets felt rough in comparison. Sandy had insisted on buying them both good quality sheets, what did she say they were? Egyptian cotton? Maybe. All he knew was they didn’t feel like the cool silkiness he had felt when he’d slipped his hand under her bra strap.
He didn’t know what had caused him to do that. He knew it wasn’t professional but he hadn’t seemed to be able to stop himself. He’d wanted her, badly. He’d been rock hard and ready to take her right there in his studio.
Not once had he ever felt like that with a client, not once had he ever been inappropriate with a client either, though God knows some of them had tried to tempt him.
But he always abstained. Always. Work and family came before everything and he wasn’t about to let some woman who wanted a one night stand jeopardize that, no matter how hard she tried to tempt him.
And plenty of them had tried. Working in the kind of business where you had to take people’s clothes off to get at the parts they wanted inked, sometimes it was just inevitable that the urge would hit either the client or him from time to time.
And some of the places women wanted to be tattooed would have tried the soul of a saint. But the threat of an unwanted pregnancy, a lawsuit for sexual harassment against the shop, or anything in between just wasn’t worth the momentary release it would bring.
And though he thought he’d been tempted before, it paled in comparison to how he’d felt when Fern had been on his table. There with her in an enclosed room, giving them complete privacy, he’d wanted to throw everything to the wind and take her right then and there. He’d felt himself responding almost from the moment she’d walked in and every shy look, every blush just spurred him deeper into the pit of need. He could feel himself reacting just thinking about her, and about how close he’d been to her.
The corn silk hair that teased the nape of her neck, the green eyes that looked through thick lashes like a doe, vulnerable to the world. And that pristine white skin just waiting for him to put his mark on it.
God what he wouldn’t get to put his hands on her hips as he dove into her.
He threw his head back on the couch and groaned with frustration.
“What’s wrong with you?” his sister said walking through the living room and into the kitchen.
Quickly he grabbed one of the ugly pillows she had propped up on the couch and threw it over his lap. Someone’s grandma had probably hand felted this from organic llama fur. Didn’t matter, it served the purpose, even though she hadn’t looked at him on her way through.
She probably wasn’t even really interested in what was wrong with him. He’d hoped they’d talked it all out over at Ma’s house, but the way she’d been moping around meant she obviously needed to talk about it some more.
Of course she did. And of course she wasn’t calling one of her friends who grew mushrooms in the forest and lived in a yurt. They probably didn’t have a phone anyway, no she was going to hold it in until it ate away at her.
He groaned mentally. He was going to have to talk with her more about it. About her feelings. For Joker. Ugh. And he wasn’t going to be allowed to say how nasty it was or upchuck at any point during the conversation.
He mentally steeled himself.
“So, how ya feeling?”
She shrugged, “I’m alright. I’ve got several apartment tours scheduled for next week and I’ve already got my flight booked for Sunday.”
“I can’t believe you’re seriously leaving, are you sure about this?” he asked as she plopped down on the sofa next to him, a big cup of milky instant coffee in her hand.
“Yup, I’ve even got a job lined up already. All I have to do is find an apartment and move.”
Dax raised his eyebrow, “You’ve got enough money for all that?”
“Well yeah, I’ve basically lived here rent free, even though I’ve tried to pay every month, you won’t let me.”
“And you saved that money?” he was surprised. Not that he didn’t believe his sister was smart or able to take care of herself, he’d just gotten used to doing it and it was kind of his thing.
“No, I spent it all on hookers and blow,” she rolled her eyes at him.
“Hey now, we both know there’s only one member of the family who’s libel to get caught with hookers and blow.” He winced even as he said it. Of course Joker was the hookers and blow guy and of course that hurt Sandy because she wasn’t the hooker or the blow.
He saw the look of pain cross her face and felt horrible. He was a dipshit who didn’t think before he spoke.
“I’m sorry Sand
y,” he reached out and held her hand. No matter how gross it was that she had the hots for their... uh, for Joker, she was still his sister and he was trying to be there for her, not make her feel worse.
“No, it’s ok, that’s who he is, who he has always been, it’s the reason I can never be with him,” she looked down mournfully into her coffee.
“Well, and there’s the whole thing about him being…” she hit him. Smacked him square in the forehead. That probably hadn’t been the best thing to say either. He was fucking this up.
“He IS NOT my brother. Neither are you,” she poked him in the shoulder, “aww don’t look so hurt. You like to pretend that this is a big family, but really we’re just four delinquents and a prostitute we call Ma.”
It felt like he’d been slapped, he stared at her a moment, trying not to say what he felt like saying.
When he did speak his words were hard and stilted, “That might be how you see it but that’s not how I feel at all. And why would you say that about Ma? Jesus Sandy, she fed us when we didn’t have food, she cared for us when we were sick and made sure we had the medicine we needed and clothes to go to school. Hell, she made sure we went to school. She’s not just some prostitute we call Ma, she’s more of a mother than the women who gave birth to us can ever claim.”
He could see the pain on Sandy’s face, but he didn’t care. She deserved it for trying to make what they all shared into nothing just because she wanted Joker.
“Have feelings for Joker all you want to, but that doesn’t change the feelings I have for all of you. You are my sister, Joker and Dex are my brothers, and Ma was a mother when she didn’t have to be. She still is.”
Out of the Ashes (Marked as His Book 1) Page 5
