Inked: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World), стр. 29
She pulls her hair over her shoulder and looks at me. I drop my eyes down her back and stop on her lace-covered arse.
Jesus fucking Christ. Why couldn’t she have at least been wearing trousers? I hate to do it, but I turn around and grab a blanket that I’ve got folded up on the side. I shake it out and cover her from the waist down.
“I don’t want you getting cold,” I mumble as an excuse. Of course I want her to be comfortable, but this is as much for my own comfort as it is hers.
With her eyes still on me, I make a show of rearranging myself just so she knows exactly what the sight of her almost naked body does to me before turning around to sort out my kit.
I’d tidied up after my client left, thinking that I was done for the day. How wrong I was.
After settling myself beside her, I look over her smooth, flawless skin. Excitement tingles just below the surface. I love getting my hands on a virgin.
“I’m glad I get to be your first,” I murmur, much to her amusement. “So, starting here,” I press my finger against the skin of her lower back, and I swear to fucking God that an electric current shoots up my arm. If her surprised gasp is anything to go by, I’d say she felt it too. “And then finish about up here?” I walk my fingers up her back and delight in the shudder that runs through her.
“Y-yes.”
“You’re going to need to stay still.”
“Then you’d better stop tickling.”
Silence descends as I get her ready for the needle.
“Did you draw this?” I ask, looking at her sketch sitting on my little table.
“Yeah. I know I won’t be winning any awards anytime soon.”
“I’ve seen a lot worse,” I chuckle, picking up my machine and turning it on. She tenses beneath me at the sound. “So if art’s not your thing, what are you good at?” I ask, hoping I can distract her a little.
“Um… I’m not sure I have a talent, to be honest. Ow, fuck,” she moans as I touch skin for the first time.
“I’d beg to differ. I think you’re very talented.”
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” she mutters.
“Why not? I think you’re a fantastic dancer.” She laughs, and I’m forced to stop what I’m doing as her body giggles. The soft sound is too good to make her stop.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” she says when she realises she’s making my life hard.
“Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah, I’m not regretting it yet.”
“Life’s too short for regrets.” I don’t know why I say it, because the reality is that I spend most of my days drowning in mine.
“So you’d think.” The sadness in her voice pulls at something inside me.
“Sorry, I fucking hate that saying.”
“Me too.”
We both fall silent while a million questions hang in the air between us. I can see in her eyes that she wants to ask about my regrets just as badly as I want to know about hers. I might have suggested one date after this, but I’ve certainly not signed up for all the feelings and shit, so I force my mouth to stay shut, no matter how much I want to get to know what she’s hiding.
It’s two hours later when I finish off the drifting seeds and write names into three of them.
“Who’s this for?” I ask, although I’m not sure it’s a really good idea. If she wanted to talk then surely she’d have offered up the information.
“My parents and my sister. They were killed a few years ago.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry.”
She shrugs. “It is what it is. Nothing I can do about it now.”
“Ain’t that the fucking truth,” I say, thinking of the people who I’ve lost that had a hand in my move over here. “What doesn’t break us only makes us stronger.”
“Jesus, you’re all about the one-liners today, huh?”
“Can’t help myself. That one I kinda believe in, though.”
“Me too. So now what?”
I blow out a breath, thinking of what I’d really like to do with her laid out here before me. “I can show you, and then we wrap it and go for dinner.”
I push my kit to the side and hold my hand out to help her up.
The sight of her in just her underwear threatens to floor me just like it did when she first pulled her dress off.
“Over here.” I pull her to stand in front of the mirror and grab another to hold behind her.
“Oh my God,” she gasps when she gets her first look at her ink.
“It’ll look better once your skin settles.” Where she’s naturally so pale, the redness around the ink looks extra angry right now.
“It’s incredible, Corey. Thank you.”
Lowering the mirror, I give in to my need to touch her. I step up behind her and place my hand on her waist, while meeting her eyes in the mirror. They’re full with tears, but delight sparkles within them.
“Is it what you imagined?”
“No.” My heart drops that it’s not what she wanted. “It’s better.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Thank you so much. And it wasn’t as scary as I thought it might be.”
“I’ve got magic fingers, that’s why.” She chuckles but soon stops when I move them across her belly.
“Corey,” she half-warns, half-moans.
“Do you have any idea how sexy you are?”
“On the verge of tears with a red raw back? I’m sure I’m anything but sexy.”
“That’s where you’re very, very wrong.” My fingers drop to the edge of her lace knickers and her eyes narrow. “Last night wasn’t enough,” I whisper in her ear, edging my fingers lower.
“Corey,” Her voice is barely a whisper, so the last thing I expect is for her hand to wrap around my forearm to stop me.
“H-how much do I owe you?”
The question damn near gives me whiplash.
“Uh… n-nothing.”
“You’re not doing it for free.”
“You can buy dinner.”
Taking a step back