Ana settled in the chair as Rolfe began to set his things up. A seriousness replaced the playful demeanor she’d seen at the gallery that night. Sam was over on the computer, cleaning up the art he’d scanned in and sizing it smaller to go on the inside of her forearm. When he’d fixed it, he came back over with a cut-out and stood behind her as he placed it on her arm.
“What do you think, baby?” he asked, his voice a soft purr in her ear, his other hand delicately touching her collar.
Ana stared at the art, at the lines that would soon be on her skin. Lines that he had drawn. Lines that would forever remind her of him, no matter which direction she chose to take her life.
That singular thought stilled her.
As though she had a choice in where her life would go after that day.
As if the last few weeks had changed her trajectory.
Her entire body pricked at the thought.
“It’s perfect,” she managed.
A daze took over her soul as Rolfe positioned the stencil on her arm and the buzzing noise of the needle began. She looked up at Sam standing behind Rolfe, watching every move with intensity. His eyes squinted, arms crossed over his chest. Her heart ached at the very look of him there. At the art about to mark her flesh. And when the needle finally pricked her skin, she came to a realization.
Ana had never truly been in love. Not this kind of love. Deep, unrelenting, powerful love.
But with every intimate stroke of the pen and Sam’s art going onto her skin, she knew she was.
Her body was alive for the first time in her life. From the roots of her hair, to the marrow of her bones, to the knot in her stomach. She was wholly consumed with seeing Sam’s smile and hearing his laugh. So consumed that the thought of giving up all she’d worked for her entire life didn’t sound like such a bad idea.
Every move of his lashes as he watched the ink seep into her skin felt like a dagger on her flesh, and she wondered if this was normal.
“Should it hurt like this?” she whispered, biting back the emotion that threatened to surface.
But Sam obviously thought she meant the tattoo. A smile lifted his lips, his concentration breaking just slightly as he met her eyes, arms hugging over his chest. “It’s a tender place,” he said. “Relax.”
Until his entire expression fell upon seeing the obvious pain in her eyes.
Sam reached down and squeezed Rolfe’s shoulder, making him look up. “Ana, do you want him to stop?” he asked, and the buzzing ceased as Rolfe heard his tone.
“No,” she practically begged. “No, gods no. I want you to mark my entire body.”
He was silent a moment before giving Rolfe a nod, and the pen started again. Sam moved to sit straddle on the rolling bench by her, scooting so that he was directly at her side with their legs touching. He reached to her face and moved a curl before kissing her jaw.
“Should what hurt like this?” he whispered.
Her eyes flickered to Rolfe, who had his headphones in, and she realized he couldn’t hear them.
“Love,” she managed, feeling tears in her eyes when she looked to him. “Should my heart feel as though it will stop beating with every passing breath? Should I want to weep from tears caused by smiling too much? Should the sound of your laugh not send me into an abyss of beginnings I do not want to wake from?”
Sam looked like someone had just struck him across his face. Like his heart had stopped or he had forgotten how to breathe. He swallowed again, and her heart dropped as she thought he might get up and tell her she was crazy. Only he leaned forward and caught her lips in a devastating kiss. Like he was starving for her to say those words, needing that confirmation from her as much as she needed it from him. The kiss made a tear fall down her cheek. And when they pulled apart, breathless and heavy, their foreheads rested against the other like they were holding the sky up on their own, and only their bodies could stop the rest of their world from crumbling into chaos.
Rolfe cleared his throat, obvious that their intimacy was making her squirm while he was trying to work, and Sam smiled against her lips before straightening to look at his friend.
“Sorry, Rolfe,” he said, waving him off.
Rolfe returned to his work without another word, and Sam moved behind Ana, where he sank his arms around her waist and laid his body against her back. Ana closed her eyes, feeling the full weight of him as she leaned her chest on the back of the chair and relaxed.
The vibrations singing up her arm made her eyes droop, and having Sam drawing circles on her stomach and thigh only furthered her depraved drowsiness.
His lips pressed to the back of her neck when he leaned up, chin sitting on her shoulder. And for the remainder of the time his friend tattooed her wrist, Ana felt like she might burst with the restlessness in her body that was nothing like she’d ever felt before. Euphoria swam through her—the vibrating pain of the needle, the soft kisses Sam placed on her shoulder or her neck, the way he held her and relaxed against her. She’d always enjoyed the pain of tattoos, but this one felt as if it were being marked on her soul.
And when Rolfe was finished, she stared at the raven skull and roses, the shading and the perfection of every line. It was as beautiful as he was, and her heart wept at the sight of his details.
“Rolfe—“
