“Why do you hate it?”
She didn’t hesitate before answering. Her words came out fast and raw. “Because it ties to me him. To the person I was when I was with him.”
“The guy you left when you came home?”
My heart rate couldn’t be quieted. I knew she had some history there. Luke had alluded to it a while back, but even if he didn’t, I could see it written all over her face.
“Blake. Yeah.” Her quiet voice carried across the open space.
I turned around needing to get eyes on her. Lydia had pulled the leg of her shorts up and was glaring at her tattoo.
My feet took me over to her without thinking. I held her chin in my hand and nudged her face to mine.
“You don’t need to keep it.”
She shrugged, a defeated look in her eyes that I absolutely hated.
“What would you want there instead of that?” I asked.
“Anything,” she huffed.
“Let me draw you something for a cover-up.” I swiped my thumb across her soft skin as I analyzed the design. I needed to know what I was working with in order to properly work a new design over it that looked intentional.
Fuck. I really wanted to cover up this asshole’s claim on her body. I didn’t even know her story, but I knew he was the reason she’d fled home. I knew that this tattoo meant something to her, and it wasn’t anything good.
“What would you put there?” she asked. Her vivid green eyes met mine, and my heart skipped a beat.
“I have a couple of ideas,” I started.
“No. No, don’t tell me. Just do it.”
“What? Right now?”
Her fingers quickly unbuttoned her denim shorts. “You got something better to do tonight?” Her challenging remark sent arousal coursing through my blood. “I want it gone, Seb. Just cover it up with anything. I don’t care what it looks like.”
If I ever got the chance to meet this dude, my fist would be doing all the talking. But first things first, Lydia was undressing in my chair, and she needed to be my sole focus right now.
A single head nod was my only indication that I was game. I washed my hands and grabbed a pair of black disposable gloves. When I turned back around, Lydia was sitting in my chair in her oversized sweater and underwear.
Fuck. She looked good like that. Ready and waiting for me to put my mark on her.
I kicked my rolling stool up to the chair and took a seat by her knees.
“No requests? You’re just going to let me have my way with you?” My voice was rougher than usual. Her soft body laid out before me was messing with me in a way I never experienced while tattooing.
People liked to get all manners of their bodies inked. I had seen the most intimate parts of people and had never waver in my professionalism. Lydia managed to challenge that, and we hadn’t even started yet.
“Nope. Do your worst,” she smirked.
I trailed my fingers over her tattoo, getting an idea on what I could do for her. Goose bumps pebbled under my touch, and she fidgeted in her seat.
“Relax, little wild. I’ve got you.”
What I meant was that I would give her something she would love, but hearing it out loud it sounded like I meantsomething more. Maybe I did.
I got my equipment set up and snapped the gloves over my hands.
The buzzing sound of my machine relaxed me as I placed the pen-like tip to her inner thigh. I didn’t want to take my eyes off my work, but I couldn’t help but glance at Lydia to make sure she was good. Our eyes met. The buzz I felt through my body was from more than just the instrument in my hand.
