He swallowed hard; she could feel it. “I guess I know you better than I thought I did.”
She let the tears fall then and studied the drawing. She loved this man, loved everything about him. He knew her. She may not know everything about him yet, but she’d find out.
She had to.
Her hand shook once more as she put her finger on the edge of the paper and pressed her lips together. He’d captured almost exactly what she wanted, at least most of it, without even having to ask. Long branches reached out from her right side and across her chest. The trunk of the leafless tree would go down her side, with the roots wrapping around her hips. The bark wouldn’t be brown, but a mix of Gaelic symbols in dark black with shadows in between. She might ask him to add splashes of reds and pink in the white parts if it would look good. She wasn’t sure. As for the branches, they would tangle together over her breasts with a single hot pink ribbon wrapping itself around them, the edge dangling off the end of a branch. Cherry blossom petals fell down from the tree and added a splash of color to the imagery. At the base of the tree, a rose bush lay with vivid red roses wrapping up her belly and over her scar.
“It’s…”
“Your strength and beauty in one. If you don’t like the ribbon, we can take it away. Or we can put an octopus or a cake or something on your side.”
She snorted. “Really? An octopus? A cake?”
“You’re a baker. And people like putting octopuses on their bodies these days. No idea why. Probably because of all the legs.”
She wiggled so she sat sideways on his lap. “It’s…perfect. I mean, we could add things to it or something, but it’s what I wanted. I wanted a tree, I wanted symbols, I wanted pink and red. You got me, Sloane. You get me.”
He tugged her close and kissed her jaw. “I like to think I get you, Hails. I’ll have to sketch your body to make sure I can do this, but you have just the right curves that it won’t look like a hunk of bark on your side, you know?”
She grinned. “I trust you, Sloane.”
He met her gaze, and something passed over his eyes she couldn’t read. “You honor me, Hailey. Fucking honor me.”
“I don’t think I’d be able to trust anyone else to do this.” She hadn’t meant to say that, though she’d stated something similar in the past. She felt so raw right now, so open. She trusted him with her ink, but for some reason, she was scared to trust him fully with her heart.
But it was far too late for that fear.
She’d already given it to him.
She had to pray he wouldn’t break it.
“I’m selfish enough not to want anyone else to do this,” he said, his voice low and gruff. He cleared his throat then, breaking the moment. She didn’t blame him. It was so serious, and yet, if she didn’t remember to breathe, she’d forget.
“Let’s get that trace done,” he said after a moment of almost-awkward silence. He helped her off his lap then got the paper ready while she stripped off her shirt and bra. She felt bare, exposed. She’d been far more naked than this, but for some reason, the way he traced her body multiple times reminded her of the hospital. Maybe it was the clinical way he was working with her. While she appreciated it, she wanted her Sloane back.
He paused and frowned. “I’m fucking up.”
She shook her head, her eyes clear of tears. She was pulling herself in so there wouldn’t be tears. No emotion. Just a raw ache that would never go away.
“You’re not.”
He let out a sigh and placed the paper and pencil on his table before bringing her into his arms. Her bare chest pressed against his clothed one and she sank into his hold.
“I wanted to keep it professional and not scare you, yet I didn’t think about why you wanted me to do your ink.”
“I wanted you to do my tattoo because I trust you.”
“Yeah, to know what you want, to do what you want, but I didn’t do what you need. You needed me to be a mix of the artist and the boyfriend. And I fucked it up.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t know that’s what I needed.”
“Well, I won’t fuck it up again.” He mumbled something else under his breath, but she didn’t quite catch it. “Let’s finish up, and I want you standing between my legs as I do it. You feel scared at all, you just touch me.” He licked his lips. “Or you could just touch anyway.” He leaned back and stripped off his shirt, the sight of his tanned skin, ink, and scars almost too much for her.
She placed her hands on his chest. “Will this hurt with the angle?”
He shook his head. “Nope. If I need you to move a certain way, I’ll ask.”