“I don’t care how much they cost. Just make sure she gets them as soon as possible.”
The tattoo irons served him as much as they served Charlee. There was such a thing as wanting something and someone beyond the edge of sanity. He wanted his tattoo completed, but not nearly as much as he wanted the artist. It was an all-consuming desire, unlike any he’d experienced. It lived in his blood and fed on his heart.
“You’re in my seat.”
He looked up to find Nathan glaring down at him. “Everything okay with Charlee?”
“She’s good.” Nathan bent over him, his voice lowering with palpable hostility. “If that changes and I find you’re the reason, I will hollow out your dick with a butter knife.”
Nathan’s protectiveness surpassed Jay’s instinct to defend himself. He made a hell of a trustworthy bodyguard.
“Tell you what.” Jay hardened his tone, punctuated each word with conviction. “If I hurt her, in any way, I’ll cut it off myself and give it to you.”
Nathan straightened, his eyes smiling. “Excellent.” He jerked his chin toward the rear of the cabin. “If you’re done here, I think she’s waiting for you.”
Jay jumped to his feet and turned.
Charlee leaned her back against the lavatory door, hands behind her, laughing at something Laz was saying. Her red hair curled around her toned arms, bouncing with the shake of her head. A pink flush tinted the curve of her cheeks and glowed against her milky skin. Her smile was as full of life as her bright eyes.
Seeing her there, waiting for him, combined with the feelings he had for her, delivered the ultimate in sexual fantasy. He moved toward her, picking up his pace, driven by the memory of her satin skin beneath his fingers. He wanted to kiss every part of her body. Wanted her hands covering every inch of his. What kind of noises would she make as he lost himself inside her?
“Need a condom?” Rio kicked up his feet on the chair across from him. “Or five?”
Jay growled. Knowing his buddies were squatting feet from the bathroom dampened his arousal. He closed the final few steps and captured her gaze.
She half-turned, eyes firmly fastened to his, and fumbled with the door lever.
“I’ve got it.” He nudged her hand away and opened the door.
“I think the couch folds into a bed.” Laz leaned back in the seat, hands behind his head. “Wouldn’t that be more comfortable?”
Charlee looked at the couch and back to Laz. “The couch would be preferable.” She grinned. “For the boring missionary type.” With a snort, she turned and vanished behind the door of the lavatory.
Jay’s body hummed with anticipation as he followed her in and shut the door on the barrage of whistling and laughing. He turned the lock and tumbled into her amused eyes. “You weren’t hoping for discreet, were you?” He brushed a thumb over her upturned lips.
The space was twice the size of a commercial jet lavatory and included a narrow shower stall at one end. She hopped up on the tall vanity counter and lifted a shoulder. “I haven’t had discreet sex in a long time.”
Her monotone statement wrenched the air from his lungs. What the hell was he doing? He couldn’t just screw her like a groupie in a bathroom, much to his erection’s dismay. “Charlee, I’m not going to—” Bang her? Too vulgar. Have sex with her? Too casual. Make love to her? She’d laugh. “—do this with you for the first time in a bathroom.”
Some of the light dimmed in her eyes. “By this, you mean slam me against the wall and fuck me until I can’t walk?”
Alarms screeched in his head. So much of her sexual history was tainted with Roy’s abuse. What he didn’t know was if she’d ever willingly given herself to another man for love. He didn’t think so.
He braced his hands on the counter, caging her hips, and leaned over her, his face inches from hers. “That’s the second time you’ve tried to cheapen us with crude language.” He softened his voice, his eyes searching hers. “Why do you do that?”
A swallow nodded in her throat. “You’re right. It’s a defensive habit.” She stared up at him and her expression opened. “I came in here with one expectation. To touch you. Will you take off your shirt?”
The air thinned and his pulse sped up. He was desperate to be wrapped in her embrace, her body, but what if his reaction scared her? “Charlee—”
“You asked me to trust you. I do. Your turn.”
She had asked him to walk to her, to meld with her. His resolution forged, rushing oxygen throughout his body. His blood scorched through his veins.
He gripped the back of his shirt, pulled it over his head, and dropped it to the floor.
She made a little noise. “Wow. Even sexier than the last time I saw you without a shirt.”
The muscles in his chest twitched and his heart lifted.
“Turn around.”