I glance up at him, expression turning mock-serious. “So don’t rip his arms off. I’d have to find someone new to ink me, and I really don’t want to do that.”
He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “You really enjoy poking the bear, don’t you?”
His hand settles at my hip, firm but controlled, thumb pressing like he needs the reminder that I’m real and right here. “Fine. I won’t rip his arms off,” he says, then lowers his voice. “But only because you asked.”
His eyes dip to my mouth, then back up, dark and intent. “And for the record, pretty great isn’t exactly what I’m aiming for. That was just the beginning.”
His grip tightens just enough to promise trouble. “Next time, Firecracker, I’m making sure you remember exactly who you belong to. No room for doubt or anyone else.”
Cole wanders back over, gloves on, brows lifted. “Ready?”
Lucky doesn’t answer him right away. He looks down at me instead, eyes dark and intent, like he’s still deciding how much trouble I’m worth. Heat crawls up my spine. I suck my bottom lip into my mouth and bite down, more nerves than flirting but letting him see it anyway.
His gaze drops there immediately. “Don’t,” he murmurs. Then leans in, close enough that I can smell the coffee on his breath, and tugs my lip free. The touch is gentle but deliberate. Then he presses a quick kiss to the corner of my mouth. Not soft. Not rough. Just enough to make my knees feel unsteady. “Let’s go, Firecracker,” he says, holding out his hand. I take it and he leads us to Cole’s station.
Cole looks between us, then at Lucky. “You sure about this, man?”
Lucky doesn’t answer him right away. He looks at me and I smile, slow and innocent, already bracing myself for him to back out. I would. Well. Probably not. But I’d at leastconsiderit. I could put anything on him. This isn’t a joke. Ink is forever.
Lucky’s jaw tightens. “Yes,” he says.
Cole lets out a low whistle. “Alright then. Shirt off.”
Lucky doesn’t break eye contact with me as he pulls his shirt over his head, muscles shifting, skin bare and unmarked. No ink, well at least none that I can see. Interesting.
Cole starts prepping his arm, cleaning the skin, snapping on gloves. The buzz of the machine fills the room, familiar and comforting and suddenly a little surreal.
I step closer, curiosity getting the better of me. “Where are your other tattoos?”
Lucky glances at me, mouth tilting into that infuriating half-smirk. “There aren’t any.”
I blink. “Wait. None?”
“This is my first.”
I actually gasp, hand flying to my chest. “This is your first?”
His smirk deepens. “Seems we both like firsts.”
Heat blooms low in my stomach.
Cole snaps on fresh gloves and gestures for Lucky to sit. “Arm out.”
Lucky does it without hesitation, settling into the chair like he’s bracing for impact instead of ink. Cole turns his arm, lifting it slightly, studying the muscle just below his shoulder. He marks a spot on the outer upper arm, where it’ll move when Lucky does, where it won’t hide unless he wants it to.
Lucky glances down. “You sure about there?”
I don’t answer right away. I step closer instead, resting my hand lightly on the back of the chair, eyes on the place Cole’s chosen. “Trust the process,” I tell him.
His gaze flicks to mine. He nods once. “Alright, Firecracker.”
Cole doesn’t show him the stencil. He turns Lucky’s arm just enough that he can’t see what’s being lined up, then presses it into place. Lucky tenses when the cold paper hits his skin.
“What is it?” he asks, eyes narrowing.
I smile. “You don’t get to know yet.”
Cole grins under his mask. “She’s serious. Don’t peek.”
