Page 34 of Sugar & Ink
“I might.”
I grinned, and then I got to work. The first touch of the needle made her suck in a breath. Her fingers tightened around the armrest.
I looked up. “You okay?”
“Yep.”
“Liar.”
She glared. “I’m fine.”
I went back to work.
The tattoo was small, but I took my time.
Partly because I always did.
Partly because, hell, I liked sitting this close to her.
Josie relaxed little by little. After a few minutes, she wasn’t holding herself so rigidly anymore. Her shoulders dropped. Her breathing evened out.
She watched me work.
Not the tattoo, but me.
I could feel it.
Her eyes on my face. On my hands. On the concentration I knew settled in whenever I tattooed.
Most people talked.
I usually didn’t.
Tattooing was personal. Intimate, in a weird way. Somebody trusted me enough to leave a mark on them forever. That wasn’t something I took lightly.
“What?” I finally asked.
Josie blinked.
“Huh?”
“You keep staring.”
“So do you.”
“I’m tattooing you.”
“You’ve looked at my face more than my wrist.”
I grunted. No point arguing. I focused harder on the lines, and the shop faded away.
The music, lights, and the street outside. It all disappeared until there was just me.
And Josie.
And the warmth of her skin beneath my hand.
“You know what’s weird?” she asked.
