Surprise filled her and she took it. As soon as she looked at the design, wonder filled her. It was a moon and a bear claw wrapped around each other in a delicate filigree with purple highlights.
Lilly and Kacie leaned in.
“Ohhh, that’s gorgeous.”
“Beautiful.”
“Purple is my favorite color,” she blurted out, looking up at him in surprise.
“I know.” He smiled, the corners of his full lips quirking up in a way that made everything female in her sit up and take notice. “I remember.”
He remembered. She blinked, not sure what to say to that.
“Do you like it?” He nodded down at the sheet.
“Of course, she likes it. How much?” Kacie demanded.
His gaze flicked to Kacie, and Kait had to bite back a small growl of disappointment. Then she wondered where the hell it had come from. She hadn’t even thought about Creed for years—no, she corrected herself. The day she’d left Aiden, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t hide behind half-truths anymore. She had thought of Creed. A lot. Especially at night when her fiancé had been away… waking up in the morning worn out from her dreams.
“Nothing. I’d do her for free.”
Kacie chuckled, “Oh, I just bet you would. Okay, girlie, you’re up. Drop your jeans. This bad boy’s gotta go on your hip. No other place for it.”
“Wait, what?” Kait spluttered as she found herself herded toward the back area with its couch and plethora of equipment. “Why do I need to take my jeans off…would you leave my belt alone!”
“Well, he can’t tattoo through the freaking denim, now can he?” Lilly arched a delicate eyebrow, arms folded as she watched Kait trying to stop Kacie from removing her jeans right there in the middle of the shop. In front of the window.
Oh god. In front of Creed.
* * *
The first time he got his hands on Kaitlyn Turner, and she had two of her friends in the room. Creed shook his head and prepped his equipment for the new tattoo. Good thing he’d been doing the job for years because his hands moved on autopilot, setting up the iron with fresh needles and sorting ink into small pots. A new roll on the therapist’s couch in the center of the room and he was ready.
Turning around, he almost choked. Kaitlyn stood in front of him in just her t-shirt and a pair of boyshorts. They weren’t frilly or fancy and they covered everything, but they knocked him for six, seven…fuck, every number up to a billion. His gaze slowly swept up from her bare feet with the most delicate toes he’d ever seen, the nails painted coral, all the way up the length of her legs to the…quickly he snapped his gaze away. Yeah, not going there. He couldn’t go there and not bend her back over the damn couch and… Fuck, he was screwed.
“On the couch,” he growled, not looking at her as he reached out to re-adjust the sketch on the trolley next to his chair. He knew the design by heart, so there was no need for him to sketch it on her skin beforehand. He preferred not to do that anyway. It inhibited his flow, blocked the creativity. He needed to feel the skin reacting beneath the needle and often made minute adjustments to his designs as he went so they fit better.
The couch creaked as she clambered onto it with more grace than most of his clients.
“How do you want me?” she asked, her voice soft and hesitant.
All night long, every way I can, baby.
He looked up to find her resting on one hip and hand, her legs folded to the side elegantly. For a moment, he wanted to just look and memorize every detail. He knew exactly how he’d draw her… as a medieval princess, a handsome warrior poised in the shadows behind possessively. No, it wasn’t only possession that marked the man’s face. It was protectiveness and honor as well. A champion who desperately wanted the woman he protected, who yearned for her, but would keep his distance until invited otherwise.
“Creed?”
Snapping himself back to the present, he looked up at her quickly.
“Where do you want it?” he asked, snapping gloves on. As half-bear, she couldn’t give him anything, but since Lizard Lick was just outside the clan’s territory and humans could wander in, he had to keep up appearances.
“I was thinking just here.” She leaned back and pointed to a spot on the side of her hip, edging down onto her thigh just below the border of the boy shorts. “Do you think it’ll look okay there?”
“It’ll look perfect wherever you want it, darlin’. It’s your tattoo. You tell me where you want it,” he drawled, tapping the pedal under the couch with his foot. The iron in his hand gave a quick buzz and he nodded, satisfied with the sound. He always knew instantly if there was something wrong with his equipment, and while he always wanted to ensure clients got only his very best work, this was Kaitlyn. His Kaitlyn.
And he was about to tattoo her for the first time.
She took a nervous little breath and smiled. “Yeah, just there then please. Thank you, Creed.”
The sound of his name on her lips was enough to fuel a whole host of new fantasies, but he kept them in check and started to work. Within a minute or so, he was almost able to forget that the soft, creamy skin under his hands was Kaitlyn’s. She didn’t murmur or flinch at the kiss of the needle. She merely lay back, one hand pillowing her head as he worked.
He didn’t need to look at the pattern for reference. This particular image was from his personal collection and he knew every line and shadow, every nuance and shade, even how it would lie over the skin where she’d told him she wanted it. Drawn for her, he’d inked this design in his dreams so many times that he could do it with his eyes closed.
But he didn’t. Body tight, he drew on his reticent bear to ensure his hands didn’t shake and worked the ink.
“So, you just back for a visit?” he asked, his voice low as the two other girls chattered away in the front of the shop. “Last I heard you’d gotten a fancy job in the city…and were getting married?”
He tried not to be obvious about checking out her ring finger as he spoke, but then realized she had her head pillowed on her left hand. Bloody idiot, he should’ve checked before.
She flinched as he moved the needle, but the subtle scent of distress told him it wasn’t physical pain but rather emotional that had caused it. “Just a visit for the moment. The job is great, but the guy fell through.”
She gave a nervous laugh as Creed looked up, and he read the pain in her eyes. Anger surged to the fore, his bear snarling deep within. The asshole had hurt her, obviously, and that would never stand.
“Who was he? I’ll go break his legs for you if you like.”
She blinked, then barked out a laugh, reaching out to pat him on the arm when he lifted the iron from her skin. “No, no need for that. He really isn’t worth it, I promise. I’m well rid of him.”
“Hmmm,” he grumbled, concentrating on one of the more difficult areas of the design. “If you’re sure. The offer’s open.”
She lay back, a smile on her face when he risked a glance up.
“Thank you, I’ll bear that in mind.”
Chapter 2
Lizard Lick never changed. Kait smiled and took a long swallow from the bottle in her hand. It went down smooth and silky, and she let a happy sigh escape her lungs as she looked around the interior of the imaginatively named Lizard Moon. A sign over the door touted it as the best pool bar in Lizard Lick. Since it was the only pool bar in town, that claim was accurate by default.
Sure, it wasn’t as swanky and upmarket as the wine bars her ex had taken her to in the city. The décor was less interior design and more whatever paint was on special at the time and would cover the tobacco stains. There were no fancy chandeliers or specially commissioned artwork on the walls. The carpet underfoot wasn’t designer anything, but a muted, faded pattern that was slightly sticky underfoot. Just the same as it always had been.
And she wouldn’t change it for the world.
Here, she didn’t have to dress up and pretend to be something she wasn’t. Didn’t have to be the perfect career girlfriend of the boardroom hotshot her fiancé had fancied himself to be. Their relationship had never been about them, it had all been about him. Team Aiden, he’d called them, controlling everything about her to better suit the image he wanted to project.
Some of his requests had seemed pretty harmless, even beneficial. Like the membership to the exclusive gym he’d insisted on paying for her. She’d needed to lose a few pounds after Christmas, so the chance to work out in an excellent gym without having to wait for the machines was heaven. Then had come the personal trainer, to ensure she got the “best out of her workouts.” From there it had been an easy slide into agreeing to lighten her hair, getting long blonde extensions, and having every detail of her wardrobe approved by the “team leader.”
But the final straw had come when he’d booked her in for a combined boob job and liposuction procedure for an early birthday present. She’d thought it was a joke at first but apparently her looking like a porn star was helpful for his promotional prospects. He’d genuinely been confused as to why she wasn’t happy. Then he was annoyed and called her an ungrateful bitch for the time and effort he’d expended to bring her “up to scratch.” It was then she’d realized he’d never seen them as equal; he’d always seen her as the girl from the hick town and beneath him.