Page 10 of Marked By the Possessive Biker

I look at the paper in his hands, and even though I can’t see the drawing, in my mind I can see it plainly, but I press my lips together.

He looks at the drawing, and I shrug my shoulders. “Do you always interrogate people before you tattoo them?”

He steps toward me. “Don’t do that. Talk to me.”

I blurt out a laugh. “Right, talk to you. Like you’ve done for me?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, making sure not to crumple the paper in his hand. “Hit me. What do you want to talk about?”

“I want to know about you.”

“Why?” he asks, completely perplexed by the idea that I’m asking about him.

But I just smirk at him. “Humor me.”

“I work here. I’m a member of the Exiled Guardians?—”

I interrupt him with a roll of my eye. “I’m not asking you what you do. Tell me about you. How did you get into tattooing? Tell me about your family. Why Whiskey Run?”

He shifts uncomfortably. “I started drawing when I was a kid, and by the time I was fifteen, I was giving tattoos out of my trailer to make money. My family is the Guardians. They’re all I’ve ever known, and when they moved here from Texas, I came a few months after to get things started.”

I know there’s more about his family than what he’s letting on, but I’m happy he at least attempted to answer my questions. He holds the paper up. “Tell me about the tattoo.”

I will not tear up. I will not tear up. I’m telling myself that, but I know I’m not going to be able to talk about my mom and dad without blubbering like a fool. I pull my shoulders back. “My mom and dad died eight years ago. It was, uh, hard to say the least, and that was my mom’s favorite Bible verse.”

He points up and down my body. “Where do you want it at?”

I point to my ribcage. “Here.”

He looks almost frustrated. He seems all tense, and I feel like he’s about to refuse me, but he gestures to the bed. “Get up there.”

I sit up on the bed, and he turns his back to me. I watch as he gets his equipment ready and then slides a tray next to me. “Hold on,” he says.

I grip the bed as he lowers it, and it brings us so close all I can do is breathe him in. He gestures for me to lie down.

I grip my shirt, holding on to it, and he tilts his head. “Did you change your mind?”

I shake my head quickly. I’m more sure of this than anything. I want Ben to be the one to give me the tattoo. “No, that’s not it.”

He smiles softly. “What is it then?”

I close my eyes, wanting to hide from the embarrassment of it all. “It’s just, I’m not like the cherries is all.”

His forehead creases. “I don’t think you are. What does that have to do with anything?”

I blow out a breath in frustration. Why is this so embarrassing? “I mean that I don’t look like the cherries. Like when I pull my shirt up, you’re going to see flab.” I clench my eyes shut. “Maybe I should just let Gunner do it.”

7

BOSS

Igrunt. “That’s not happening.” I put my hand on her knee. “So hold up. You’re worried about me seeing you?”

She lifts her shoulders and then lets them drop without making a sound.

I squeeze her knee. “You’re perfect, princess.”

She laughs. “No, I’m not. Far from it really, and I’m fine with how I look, but I thought I should warn you or something, that’s all.”

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