“Wow. I missed this. I haven’t inked in a week.” She winked at Jay. “It’s been a very long week.”
Her wink spiraled through his chest and stole his breath. There she was. His girl was back with light flickering in her eyes. As relief settled over him, he relaxed in the chair and watched her work. Her scrunched nose, brow pinched in concentration, and the tune drifting from her throat hurtled him back to Kilroy Tattoo. He’d changed his life that night to earn a future with her. It was time to confront the past so he could hold onto that future.
A shiver passed through him. It had been his lot to suffer an abusive childhood, but he would make damn sure her lot didn’t include another second in chains. He’d accept a death penalty if that was what it took to eliminate Roy.
He wanted her safe and happy. More than he wanted freedom, or music, or breath.
72
Charlee focused on the tattoo equipment in her hands, scrubbing the shiny steel until it shone and tucking it into a box. If she glanced up, she knew she’d be ensnared once again by the heat of Jay’s gaze. She was also certain that one more shared look and her devotion to equipment care would be deserted for sex.
Hard, rough, painful sex. The promise radiated from his stiff posture. Oh, he had one leg draped over the arm of the chair, the other stretched out in front of him to accommodate a full-body slouch.
He wasn’t fooling her. Aggressive arousal emanated from him in the unmoving way he watched her, the slack of his parted lips, the minute press of his fingertips in the armrest, and the tell-tale stretch of his fly. Her fingers itched to slip out that top button and free him.
Boisterous laughter stumbled in from the patio. Everyone had congregated outside with beer and chips, their spirited mood wafting into the night sky.
“You have a magical way of bringing people back to life, Charlee.” His timbre was husky, his gaze burning her skin.
Too bad she couldn’t bring nineteen-year-old girls back to life. She gave herself a mental slap. Hadn’t she beaten herself up enough? “Nothing’s more magical than a six-inch double rainbow over your ass.” She packed up the last machine and bent to close up the box. “All done.”
Fingers curled around her hip and she jumped. Sneaky bastard. She turned to face him with a spurt of mischief pumping through her veins. Stretching her jaw, she let out a dramatic yawn and snapped it closed. “Race you to the bedroom.”
She spun. Through the living room, down the hall, around the bend, she pushed off the wall and threw open the double doors to his suite.
The slap of bare feet closed in behind her, kicking up her pulse. He slammed the doors and caught her in his sitting room. Arms around her waist, he doubled her over the back of the loveseat. She clawed at the leather, tried to plunge headfirst into the cushions, laughter tearing from her lungs. Ass in the air—
Ow, fuck. He bit her. His teeth clenched through her jeans and pinched the crease between her thigh and cheek. His hand followed with a smack that shimmied a twinge from her hip to her feet. Wowza, he meant business. Desire curled in her * and pulsated with a force that stole her breath.
His weight bore down on her, chest pressing against her back and lips fluttering over her ear. “Go to the bedroom. Remove your clothes. Face the foot post on my side of the bed, feet spread and arms above your head. You have two minutes.”
She nodded, voice strangled, a fever blooming over her skin.
One minute later, she stood in the commanded position, her yearning wet and clinging to her inner thigh. She shuddered, the footfalls behind her magnifying the tremors.
Soft fabric touched her cheek, and the room disappeared. He secured a blindfold around the back of her head with a knot.
“Too tight?”
“No, Sir.” Damn, she sounded breathy.
He chuckled and gripped her wrists where they stretched along the post above her head.
The click-click-click of felt-lined handcuffs filled her ears and restrained her hands. She tried to lower them and they didn’t budge. “There’s a hook in the bedpost?” Had it always been there? Why?
“Had an eye bolt installed yesterday.” He slapped her ass.
The smack was lighter this time, but the sting lingered without the protection of denim. Her clit awoke, pulsing. “Harder.”
His breath came out in heavy gusts, tangling in her hair and winding down her body. He ran his hands along her stretched arms and circled her breasts, lifting them.
Was he naked back there? Was his erection straining to reach her? “Move closer. I want to feel you.”