Page 47 of Fractured Frets

He didn’t have to go to this length...but I loved him for it. I couldn’t deny it helped ease some of my worries.

With every wrinkle of Slip’s nose, each whir of the tools, each dab Sol made against the fresh ink, my heart took on a strange beat. This was the craziest, most bizarre thing anyone had ever done for me. I was etched into Slip’s skin forever. There was something so sexy, so hot and surprisingly arousing by that. Heat meandered to my core, setting off a low thrum between my legs. Slip lying before me in the chair quickened my heartbeat.

“Um...” I swallowed harder than I’d expected. “So how long does this take?”

“Maybe about two hours.” Sol didn’t look up from inking Slip.

“Oh. That long?” Damn. I bit my lower lip and clenched my thighs together.

Easing the gun back, Sol laughed. Too much humor glinted in his eyes. “If you two need me to take a break, let me know. You wouldn’t be the first couple to get turned on by ink.”

“Sol. Leave. Now.” Slip yanked me forward with a rush. As I fell against his chest, he kissed me, hot and heavy.

Catching my breath, I dragged myself away from Slip’s lips. “Sol, it’s okay. Don’t leave. We’re fine. Totally.” Maybe...It took all my strength not to mount the chair, climb onto Slip’s lap, rip out his cock, and ride him in this big leather chair. I’d never thought watching someone getting a tattoo could be such a turn-on. Maybe it was just Slip.

“Speak for yourself.” Slip moaned as he adjusted his bulging crotch, then smiled as he rested his head back in the chair.

But when Sol repositioned his work lamp, the faint, dark circles beneath Slip’s eyes snagged my breath. He’d thinned down in the face. Clearly the tour was taking its toll on him, and the gossip and stresses around our marriage likely hadn’t helped.

I didn’t want to be a cause for any concern.

So why, when he was in the middle of getting inked, such a grand, irrevocable gesture of his love for me, did I still doubt our future together? What was holding me back?

What was I missing? Was it just time together?

Then my cell phone rang. I grabbed it out of my purse. The caller ID lit with Mom.

A chill shot through my veins. I answered with a quick swipe. “Hi. Is everything okay?”

“Oh, Maddy.” Mom panted like she’d run ten miles. “I can’t breathe. I’m burning up. Can you come home? Quick.”

My heart clambered to my throat as panic seized my lungs. “Mom? I’ll call the ambulance.”

“No. No. I want you. Please.”

“You’re scaring me.” My cell phone trembled in my hand. “You sound terrible. I’ll call the home doctor. Or Bridget.”

“No. Please. Don’t.” Every word was a raspy breath. “I’m okay. I just want you to help me.”

Me? “Um . . . I’m with Slip. Staying with him tonight.”

“Maddy. Please?”

“Mom, we’ll be about another hour or so. Can you put your oxygen on and take meds for the fever?”

“No. I need you.”

Shit. This wasn’t good. Bridget was officially on one of her days off. I shouldn’t trouble her when I was supposed to look after Mom when I was home.

Worry darkened Slip’s eyes. He mouthed, ‘Everything okay?’

I shook my head and whispered, “No. Mom’s having a flare-up.”

He glanced at his arm. Sol was only half done. “Go.” He gave me a reassuring smile and clasped my hand. “I’ll come once Sol’s finished.”

“You sure?” I wanted to stay, but I had to leave.

“Yes.”

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