Page 57 of Flash

Lewis nods and I let him go so I can pull him over to my chair, where I have my digital sketch pad. He hops into my tattoo chair, and I pull up a few different designs. I turn the screen towards him so he can take a look.

He gasps and takes the sketch pad out of my hands to get a closer look.

“This is amazing.” He flips through the sketches one at a time. “I have an idea,” he says after a minute. “Could you combine a few of these into a wildflower bouquet that would take up the inside of my forearm? With a ribbon around the stems tying them together, and maybe a little bumblebee buzzing around them?”

His growing excitement as he describes his idea is the same beautifully infectious energy that got me addicted to putting my art on other people’s bodies to begin with.

“I can definitely do that. Give me a few days to do some mockups and then I’ll get you right back in this chair to mark you up for good,” I growl, hitching a hand behind his neck and leaning down to pull him into another kiss.

“A few days?” He pouts. “You can’t do it today?”

I chuckle and nuzzle my nose against his. “You can’t rush something permanent, sweetness. It needs to be right.”

He smiles and slips his hands under my shirt, skating his fingers along my belly and stealing a few more brief but lingering kisses.

“I suppose it’ll be worth the wait,” he says, scooting forward in the chair to hitch his legs around mine with a playful grin. “Have you ever fucked anyone in your tattoo chair before?”

I groan and buck my hips.

“You’re asking for trouble with that dirty mouth, Tater Tot.” I kiss him more deeply this time, stroking my tongue over his and swallowing down the breathless sounds he feeds me.

Lewis breaks the kiss after a second, his chest heaving and his lips that pretty shade of deep pink I love so much, glistening and damp from my mouth. His fingers twitch against my skin and his breath stills like he’s holding it. The air around us feels like it freezes for a second too, like time is grinding to a halt while we stare at each other.

“This isn’t a generic flash tattoo, Jay, it never was.”

Words catch in my throat, but I shake my head in agreement. We might have pretended this was casual from the beginning, but I think we both know now that this was always something special.

“I love you.”

I stare at the shape of the words on his lips, unable to believe they’re real.

I suck in a trembling breath and then crash my mouth into his again. A desperate feeling swells in my chest as our lips find a frantic rhythm, our hands all over each other, tugging at clothes and pawing at the bare skin we manage to reach. Our tongues knot and our breathing syncs in fast, heavy pants into each other’s mouths.

A lifetime of chasing the wrong men, working too hard for people who didn’t want it, giving away my heart just to have it tossed back in my face again and again… it was all worth it. Every single stupid thing led me right here to this moment with Lewis. All my past mistakes are the unpracticed, shaky line tattoos etched into my past, but Lewis is the cover-up. He doesn’t erase what was there, but the scars underneath don’t matter so much anymore.

“I love you, Lewis. I love you. I love you.”

Chapter 20

LEWIS

“Wow, I thought Wooley’s was closed tonight.” I pull my helmet off and hop off the back of Arrow’s bike, landing gracefully with the gravel crunching under my boots. The leather jacket that made me sweat balls during the last part of the summer is now very welcome against the late October chill in the air.

“Right, invite only,” Tex confirms, pulling his trusty cowboy hat out of his saddle bag and giving it a shake to uncrumple it, then trading his helmet for it.

“I know, but I thought we were special, like these were VIP invites. There are more cars in the parking lot than I’ve ever seen here at one time,” I complain.

Another pair of headlights light up the night and I recognize Rowan’s car as he pulls in and parks in one of the last available spaces.

“Sure, but the booze is free tonight,” Jag points out.

I roll my eyes. “Like any of you ride after more than a single beer.”

“Don’t overthink it.” Arrow puts a hand under my chin and tilts my face up so he can steal a quick kiss, smirking at me when we part again. “We get to see people we vaguely know dressed up in stupid costumes. Just go with it.”

I chuckle. “Fair enough.”

They all decided to keep things simple by dressing as The Lost Boys, which basically just means they added some fake blood and are either shirtless under their jackets or have ripped tank tops. No imagination at all.

---