He reached behind the counter for his sketchbook. From there it was up to her. “I have photographs in binders that I could show you, but…”
“But what?”
Seth leafed through the sketchbook until he found what he wanted. “I drew something the other night, with you in mind.” This felt a lot like showing her the inner workings of his mind and he paused for just a second, reconsidering. He glanced up and watched as she stepped forward and placed her hands flat on the counter. Anticipation was evident in her eyes as she stared at the sketchbook.
The design had come to him after he’d taken her home from the July 4th celebration. Because he hadn’t been able to sleep, he’d sat up thinking about her, remembering the feel of her in his arms, and envisioning what her unblemished, ivory skin would look like if he was allowed free rein. He’d known as he drew it that it was fantasy because she’d never want a tattoo that big, not on her first try. She probably wouldn’t want to sit through the three or four sessions it would take to get it finished. Additionally, she’d have to be at least partially nude during the sessions.
The reality was that she’d be seeing it every day, and if she ever married, it needed to be pleasing to her husband too. Not every man would be interested in a woman with a tattoo that extensive. I am, though! Doesn’t really matter. She’d never go for something this extensive. Conversely, he didn’t want to think about any other man viewing his handiwork.
He located the design in the spiral-bound book and turned it so she could see.
Jayne’s lips formed a perfect O shape as she hooked the spiral with her index finger and gently drew the sketchbook to her. Seth’s heart sped to a gallop as she gazed at the sketch. Most of his sketches were utilitarian, part of the business, and designed to communicate with a customer. This drawing was much more intimate. She glanced at him, and her cheeks bloomed with bright color. The same rosy hue that had inspired the design. Now she knew he’d been thinking about her in the nude. Dude, fantasizing. Be honest with yourself.
In the drawing, the whimsical climbing rose started on her rib cage, by her right breast, swept across her abdomen diagonally, stretching to her left hip and curling around the upper left thigh. The tips of the rose petals were brushed with the faintest hint of a rosy-peach pastel crayon. Graceful black swirls filled in around the roses and stems, and delicate script lettering wound throughout the design.
On the page, the tattoo was depicted from three different angles, and in one of them the shadowed V of her pussy, at least as he imagined it, was visible. He bit the inside of his cheek, knowing that he’d shown more detail than was absolutely necessary, then remembered that this had been a fantasy he’d drawn and not something he’d intended to propose to her. Or is it?
His mind wandered again to what a tattoo session with her would be like. He’d tattooed hundreds…thousands of men and women in the time he’d been an artist, on parts of their bodies that might shock Jayne. None of them, even the beautiful standouts like Lily Cook, had affected him the way tattooing Jayne Sheridan with this design would.
It would be a painful exercise in self-denial.
In his travels while studying his craft, Seth had met all types of women, and Jayne was certainly atypical. Jayne was studious and quiet. The serious part of his nature liked that about her, that she didn’t fill their time with inane talk. There was something about her he couldn’t quite pinpoint that brought out his protective instincts. When he tattooed someone, he usually became absorbed in the art he was creating, but he had a feeling that with Jayne that would happen on a whole deeper level.
“Do you have a photograph of this already on someone?” she asked, her eyes hooded so he couldn’t sense her reaction.
Chewing his lower lip, Seth shook his head. “No. I just drew this the other night, after…”
She lifted the sketchbook from the counter and peered closely at it, and hope germinated in his heart. She’s seriously considering it!
It would be perfect on you. Only on you.
“After what?”
“After I dropped you off. I haven’t done this design on anyone else.” And if you want it, I won’t do it on anyone else.
Her finger lightly brushed the script lettering and she whispered, “James Whitcomb Riley?” Her soft smile told him that he’d made the right choice in adding the lines from Riley’s poem, “The Rose,” to the design.
He thought he detected a tremor in her hand, but she kept her eyes averted so her emotions were hard to read. He had the urge to reach out and tilt her chin up so he could look into them.