“Are you good with that gun-thingy?” I ask and he glares at me.
“This is not a gun. It’s a machine.”
Oh.
“Are you good with your machine?” I ask and a wolfish smile spreads across his handsome face and Nate swears under his breath again.
“Honey, you have no idea.”
“I’m serious.”
“Okay,” he sits forward, his elbows on his knees, and looks me in the eye. “I’ve been doing this for almost twenty years. I majored in art in college, so I’m pretty good. I’ve never had an unsatisfied customer. You saw the portfolio earlier.”
I nod and take a deep breath. Besides, he’s right, what I’ve chosen is super small.
“Sweetheart, we wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think he’s the best.” Nate squeezes my hand reassuringly again and I relax a little.
“Okay.” I unbutton my jeans and shimmy them down so my left hip bone is exposed. I point out where I want it. “Right there.”
“No problem, just sit back and take some deep breaths.” Tattoo guy – I’ve forgotten his real name by now in my panicked horror – rubs the stencil on my skin, pours the ink into little tiny plastic jars, and picks up his machine.
When he turns to me with it in hand, I feel my eyes go wide. “You’re going to try to kill me with that thing, aren’t you.”
“No,” he laughs hard and shakes his head. “This is going to be quick, really.”
“Look at me,” Nate says, his voice full of humor. I look up into his soft gray eyes and grip his hand more firmly as I feel Tattoo guy grip my hip with one hand. “Just focus on me, baby. What do you want to do when we leave here?” He brushes my hair off my face and smiles down at me. The machine starts up and I flinch.
“Um, I don’t know.”
“Let’s go for a ride on the bike,” he whispers in my ear and I close my eyes and focus on his voice.
“That’s appropriate. Tattoos and motorcycles,” I whisper back. He laughs softly and kisses my cheek.
“Here we go,” Tattoo guy says and I feel a slight sting on my hip. I clench my eyes closed tightly and suddenly Nate is kissing me, softly, teasingly, running those soft lips over mine, nipping the sides of my mouth, and then taking the kiss even deeper. He’s still holding my right hand in his tightly, and his other hand is cupping my face, holding me to him.
The stinging is persistent, but not too bad. Nate’s lips are the perfect distraction.
“You’re doing great,” he whispers against my lips and I open my eyes to look into his. “He’s almost done, Jules.”
“How do you know?” I whisper back.
He smirks and kisses me again, with more fervor, until finally, I hear someone clearing their throat loudly.
“I think he’s done,” I whisper against Nate’s lips and he smiles down at me.
“All done,” Tattoo guy announces and sits the chair up. “Take a look before I cover it up.”
He hands me a hand-mirror and I look down at the new little piece of art on my left hip. It sits low, so a bikini will cover it up. Only I’ll know it’s there.
“So, what does it mean to you?” Tattoo man asks.
“It’s the ace of hearts,” I murmur. It is a small red heart with an A above and to the left of it, like in the corner of a playing card. “It’s Nate.”
I look up and find Nate staring at my hip, his eyes dilated, his breathing has gone ragged and my breath catches. Jesus, he’s all turned on and just looks so… primal.
“Are you okay?” I ask him.
“Fine.”
“Don’t you like it?”
Without looking at me, he says to his friend, “Cover it up so we can get out of here.”
Shit, he doesn’t like it.
I wanted to get something that reminded me of Nate, without actually having his name tattooed on my body. The ace of hearts made sense; I call him ace all the time, and he has my heart, just like I wear his around my neck every day.
After my new tattoo is covered and I’ve been given instructions on how to care for it until it heals, Nate pays his friend and we walk over to his motorcycle.
“Where do you want to go for a ride to?” I ask and reach for my helmet, but Nate stops me, grabbing my hand and pulling me to him.
“Jules, I…”
“What’s wrong?” I lean my belly against him and gaze up at him. “I’m sorry if you don’t like the tat, Nate…”
“I love it. It’s sexy as fuck, and I love seeing part of me on you. I’m just surprised that it’s what you chose.” He looks down at me with a frown, looking a little confused, and a knot forms in my belly. Maybe it was presumptuous to get this particular tattoo this early in our relationship?
“I should have talked it over with you first,” I close my eyes and look down. “It just seemed like the right thing to do.” I shrug and grin. “And I love it. I think it looks sexy. Natalie is going to wig out when she sees it.”
“It’s kind of a commitment.” He murmurs and I swallow. “Like moving in together.”
Shit.
He tilts my chin up with his fingers, making me look him in the eye and I calm at his loving, happy expression. He’s right. I’ve committed to having a piece of art that reminds me of him permanently displayed on my body. Why am I fighting the idea of living with him?
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay what?” he asks, gazing intently into my eyes, as if he’s trying to read my mind. His hands tighten at the small of my back and I smile shyly.
“Okay, let’s move in together.”
“Seriously?” He’s still searching my eyes, hope and love moving across his face, and I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.
“Yes. Seriously. Let’s start looking into it this week.”
Suddenly Nate’s face splits in two with the widest grin I’ve ever seen on him, and he lifts me and spins me around with a loud, “Hell yeah!”
We’re both laughing as he sets me back on my feet. He cups my face in his hands and kisses me gently but deeply, lovingly, and I melt against him.