Heart of a Tattooist: Dark Romance MC Club Alpha Bad Boy Obsession (Tattooist Series Book 3) (6 page)

Her breasts flattened against his chest and her hands went to his strong shoulders, her nails digging in lightly as she tested those muscles below the cotton of his t-shirt.

He groaned just before his tongue began to explore her mouth. She let hers meet with his and create a new rhythm, one that was passionate and deep, but still growing. His hands slid down her shoulders, his fingers trailing fire along her tattooed arms. He broke off the kiss long enough to whisper, “I love these.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Your tattoos,” he said then kissed her again, stealing her breath and sending passion deep into her being. Her hips moved forward, an involuntary movement that told them both exactly how she felt and what she wanted.

The hardness poking into her lower belly told her that she was not alone in being hot. His body smashed into hers again, his fingers moving to her back and pressing hard against the stiff knobs of her spine.

Night air ran over them. Her skin was swept by sensations as his hands moved lower then stopped right above her rounded buttocks.

Mitch broke off the kiss and stepped back. He looked as dazed as she felt. He swallowed hard and said, “Well, um…maybe we should head back.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, my house is about an hour with traffic…if you want to brave it.”

“Isn’t the condo closer?”

He nodded. “Yes. I was trying to…I was hoping you wouldn’t think that it was a…you know…”

“A place you take your in-town booty calls?” She flashed him an impish grin.

He actually flushed. “Yeah.”

“You take them somewhere else?” The question was a jest, but only barely.

Mitch chuckled. “I don’t do booty calls.”

“Neither do I.”

He took her hand. “I know you don’t.”

They headed for the condo. A few people nodded at them and they passed by them on the streets. Cara had a million questions but she didn’t ask them. She was content to let the anticipation build, to let the slow heat simmering along her veins become a fire. Every time his skin met hers she felt a flash of that fire.

They reached the condo and stepped into the elevator. Several other people crowded in and she felt her eyes widen as she recognized a very famous woman and her current husband, a country musician. They nodded at Mitch and he nodded back.

Cara took in the other woman’s creamy complexion and unmarked skin, and a sudden misgiving set in. Was she what he wanted? The tattoos were symbols of what she did and who she was; her ink was an integral part of her and a part she was proud of, but she had met men who had told her she would be gorgeous if she just got rid of that ink. That always floored her. She thought her ink was what made her beautiful, and that other people didn’t see that was not only astonishing but often unsettling.

The doors opened and they went down a hallway to a door that opened to reveal a lovely open-concept place with high ceilings and vast windows that were lit up by the lights of the city.

The sight brought a gasp of delight from her lips. Mitch turned to her and her next gasp was equally delighted.

His firm warm lips met hers again. His tongue found hers and teased it into a rapid dance. His hands stripped off her clothes, baring her skin to his heated touch and gaze.

Her toes dug into his calves as she climbed up the lean length of his body. Her legs wrapped around his narrow waist and he headed for the bedroom, nearly knocking them both to the floor once in his haste to get there.

Her fingers found his buttons. The satiny texture of his skin and the hard flex of muscles below sent her into a dizzying spin of desire and need.

His erection filled her palm, all hot throbbing flesh and thickness. She lowered herself until she was on her knees. His masculine scent filled her nose and she inhaled it deeply, allowing herself a moment to enjoy it.

Heavy veins wrapped around the shaft, pulsing visibly. His head was purple, engorged with blood. Fluid had gathered there at the very tip and she took him into her mouth, her tongue swiping across that silken skin to taste those clear little drops.

Her hand cupped his balls as she drew him down her throat. His groan was low and guttural and his ass rocked back and forth, making his hips move too. His member slid further down her throat and she tightened her lips, applying pressure as her fingers caressed the heavy weight of his sac.

Mitch moaned and dug his hands into her hair, yanking hard before his fingers released the silken strands and cupped the back of her head instead.

He pulled out of her mouth with a wet pop and dragged her to her feet before his mouth met hers again. The backs of her knees met the bed and she went down onto it, sprawled haphazardly onto the soft mattress.

Her legs parted and her knees drew up and back as he clambered onto the bed. They both squirmed and thrashed, seeking a better position on the mattress. Every motion and movement brought his body into contact with hers. Every time their flesh met, little flares of need rocketed through her body.

Her need intensified with every second, with every caress. His mouth met her neck and then her breasts, his teeth and tongue teasing her erect nipples into even stiffer points.

His hand delved into the wetness between her legs and then his fingers slid inside her, his thumb pressing down hard on her clit. Cara had been alone for a long time, and the need for release was strong, so robust that she almost came just from the heated pressure and friction created by his fingers so deep inside her snug passageway.

Mitch positioned himself above her. He groaned out, “The nightstand…” and she reached for a drawer. He tore open the condom with his teeth and unrolled it hastily.

Her hips arched upward as he thrust into her, taking all of her body captive. Her eyes closed. Her heels dug into the mattress and her fingers twined around his as he withdrew and thrust again. He freed one hand and found the high standing ridge of her clit again, massaging it firmly.

Waves of pleasure spiked and rolled through her body. Her eyes opened and closed and she panted heavily as she strained toward that high peak and the climax just beyond it.

She reached it and toppled over. Moments later she felt the thick throbs of his climax deep within her walls.

He strained for a moment, his entire body tight with the force of his passion, and then he slowly relaxed. He rained little kisses down on her face and neck, and she let her body go limp as his weight met her and settled onto her.

Mitch stirred and withdrew slowly. He removed the condom and disposed of it then rolled back to her. His arms wrapped around her and held her tightly.

They lay there, enjoying the mellow afterglow for a long moment.

Cara finally spoke, “Mitch, I need you to know that I’m not promising you anything here.”

He lifted his head to peer down at her face. “I don’t recall asking for promises. In fact, you strike me as the type to run like hell as soon as things get too serious. I sort of expect you to do the same as soon as I mention anything of the sort, so I’m intentionally not offering any either.”

She stared at him. Thin anger surfaced. “Really? Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know,” he said softly. “It’s not an accusation or an insult. I don’t know why you run any time someone gets even slightly close, but I damn well know that you do.”

The hell of it was that he was right. She did run when people got too close. Her anger dissolved and fear set in. How long would it be before she screwed up this thing too? She had messed up every other relationship she had ever been in, and she had no idea of how to stop doing that, how to stop running from people who cared about her.

She’d had to run from them; from Mitch too. People lied. They went away and they never came back. They got bored or tired or broke their promises. She didn’t want to get hurt again; she had been hurt too often and too deep and she couldn’t take that again. She said, “I’ll concede that point.”

His hand found hers. “This isn’t a war of words, Cara. I’m not trying to wound you, and I damn sure ain’t asking for surrender on your part.”

Damn it! He confused her with every sentence. Did he have some kind of degree in picking apart her defenses and shredding them until she felt raw and vulnerable?

It seemed so.

And she really didn’t like it.

She cleared her throat and said, “I just meant I don’t know how we can work this out. I have to work. I should go back to Key West…”

“Is that what you want to do?”

She swallowed hard. “Memphis and Nashville aren’t so very far apart, you know.”

“True, but let’s face it, they have plenty of fish to fry right now. That bike club, I mean. They’re all landing in jail or shooting it out with pissed-off dealers they’ve been strong-arming.”

She sighed. “You don’t know bikers too well.”

Mitch lifted an eyebrow and peered at her face. “What do you mean?”

She held her breath. She thought hard for a moment and then said, “My folks were bikers. Real bikers. Not the kind who have good jobs and ride on the weekends. That’s how I met Cliff; his dad was a weekend warrior who hung out with my folks for a while, until shit got way too real and then he and his wife bailed.”

“Way too real?”

“My parents are in prison. They went to jail when I was young and they got out on bail for a few years. How they managed to stay out on bail for years is anyone’s guess, but…”

“But then they got sentenced?’

She sighed and burrowed her face into his armpit. “Yeah.”

“So who raised you?”

“Mostly my aunt and uncle or my grandmother. Then when all of them got arrested or tired of watching some snotty kid, the other guys in the crew took over. They dropped me with their old ladies or their moms, whatever. They promised my folks, and if there is anything a biker will do it’s keep a promise to their crew leader, especially if that leader went down on a hard bust that the whole club could have gone down on.”

He propped himself upon his elbow and stared down at her face. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“That had to be hard.”

She shrugged. Her eyes were riveted to the way the sheet fell down around his waist and revealed the thin arrow of hair that led to his now-flaccid penis. “Other kids had it harder.” She knew that was true. She added, “Look, I just brought it up because I want you to know that I do know bikers, and the possibility that they forgot all about me isn’t high, especially since Junior died.”

“You didn’t kill him.”

She shook her head. “No, but unless someone kills his uncle or whoever else was willing to go to bat for him, you’d better believe that they’re coming after me. You see, now he’s dead. And his getting killed sparked off some real hatred and chaos. That’s cool for that crew, they probably thrive on it. But they don’t forget. They never forget.”

Mitch’s face took on a hard expression. “Cara, I can keep you safe.”

“No, you can’t.”

He couldn’t, and not just from the bikers who might or might not still be after her blood. He couldn’t keep her safe from the heartache she was sure was going to come, one that he would bring her. The tattoo under her left breast, on the side, read:
Beneath Lay Words That Suffocate.
Promises made that could not be kept.

He didn’t speak again. Instead he just pulled her close. She let herself feel every inch of his body, feel the hard and muscular length of his body against her own softer frame. His hand rested lightly on her hip and it felt so right there, so very right, but as she began to drift off to sleep she turned away from him, curling into a ball as she moved onto her other side.

Mitch lay in the darkness, listening to Cara’s even breathing and cursing himself. He should have left her alone. He should have made sure she was okay and walked away.

Bringing her to Nashville was a giant mistake, a colossal mistake, one he wished he had never made.

Cara had been unforgettable before, but now…

He’d watched her walk away from that plane, all golden tan and dressed in those damn jean shorts, the ones that had the slight raveling of threads hanging at the bottom. Those little white threads had lain against her flesh, beckoning him to touch them, to pull on them just to see if the whole shebang would unravel and leave her naked.

Making love to her had been like coming home after a long hard tour. Something about her called to him, pulled him to her like a magnet and maybe, just maybe, he might have eventually forgotten that pull if he had left things like they were, but there was not a single snowball’s chance in hell that he was ever going to be able to do that now.

She had him hooked.

Unfortunately, she was obviously determined to toss him back.

Okay.

So now what?

The whole thing was utterly confounding.

He wanted her more than he had ever wanted a woman in his life, and she clearly did not want him.

She was still afraid of the repercussions from that crew and he couldn’t say he blamed her, not given her past. And that small glimpse she had given him into her past had opened his mind to a whole host of things she probably never even considered.

Mitch was a smart man, smart enough to realize he might not make it in the industry no matter how much he had wanted it, so he had gotten a degree along the way and worked as a psychologist while waiting for his big break to come around.

Knowing now that she had some serious and clearly well-founded abandonment issues should have made him breathe a little easier. That was something he could work through with her.

What he couldn’t do was make her want him.

He was going to have to find out, fast, if she wanted him and was just scared, or if she was really just disinterested. He wanted to believe it was the former, she came a hell of a long way to see him after all, but she was nigh unto impossible to read most of the time.

Maybe he would be doing them both a favor by putting her back on the plane and sending her back to Key West as fast as possible. If he did that at least he could staunch the worst of the bleeding and get on with getting over her.

She turned over. The moonlight came through the windows, striping her body with light and shadow, and he studied her face. She was beautiful, yes, but it wasn’t just beauty that drew him to her.

The colorful tattoos on her arms drew his eyes. She had none anywhere else. His eyes traced the tattoos and he began to see a pattern of broken hearts and fearlessness. That was her, in a nutshell. There was no way to understand her; she was just too complicated. How could he make her see that he wanted something with her, and that what he wanted sprang from a real and serious emotion?

She was afraid. He’d guessed that the minute he’d discovered the past relationship between her and Cliff.

She was terrified of relationships, which was stupid as far as he was concerned because he had zero intention of hurting her. He might anyway, though, if he didn’t let her go.

She might simply walk away without a backwards glance if he didn’t do something to get her stay.

It was a conundrum, and for the first time in his entire adult life he had absolutely no idea how to handle a woman he wanted to date.

It pissed him off. He took stock, trying to rehearse words he could say to her to get her to hear him, really hear him.

The last thing he wanted was for her to head back to Key West. He wanted her in Nashville, and near him, but he didn’t want to scare her away.

A sudden idea struck and a grin played across his mouth.

It was worth a try anyway.