All the Pretty Lies (Pretty #1)(34)
Author: M. Leighton

He begins to move my hand over his thigh in smooth, small circles. I put all my effort into focusing on the gun and what Hemi is saying, but my mind keeps straying to him making small circles like this on my body. With his fingers. And what they did to me. Where it led. And where it might lead again.

“Do you like the way that feels?” he asks. I turn my head to look at him. There’s heat in his eyes. He’s no more talking about the gun than I’m thinking about it. He’s thinking of something else, too. Something much more intimate. And much more satisfying.

“I love the way it feels.”

“I knew you would,” he replies hoarsely. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I say, again speaking of so much more than what I’m about to do in the next five minutes. “I’m very ready.”

“You’d better be,” he responds meaningfully. “Because I’m a selfish bastard and I always get what I want. Even if I have to take it.” I wonder if he’s still considering dragging me off to the bathroom. Because, if he is, I want him to know I’m game. I’ll go. Anywhere he wants to go, I’ll go.

“Is it still selfish when someone wants you to take it?”

“I don’t know. But I think I’m past the point of giving a shit.”

“Then take it. Take what you want.”

“Be careful what you wish for, little girl.”

“I don’t want to be careful.”

Hemi watches me for a few long, intense seconds before he releases my hand. “Then show me what you got.”

Easing me back a little, Hemi stretches out on the table then turns on his side, facing me. I sit down on the stool and lower the bed until my “canvas” is at just the right height. Instinctively, as if he knows what I need (which I’m pretty sure he does, in every possible way), Hemi inches toward the edge of the table, toward me.

It’s my turn to ask him. “Ready?”

“Hell yeah.”

I dip the tip of my gun into black ink and I set my foot near the pedal on the floor. Finding a comfortable position for my arms, I lean into Hemi, holding the gun less than an inch from his skin. I take a deep breath and depress the pedal, tentatively grazing Hemi’s smooth skin with the sharp point.

He doesn’t jerk or make a sound, but I feel the muscles beneath my arms and hands clench in response to the first prick of the needles. I pause, feeling him calm instantly, before I resume.

It doesn’t take long to learn the feel of the gun, of how to move it over skin, of the rhythm of inking and wiping, inking and wiping. And Hemi is the perfect canvas, his skin smooth and tight, his body perfectly formed beneath my hands. After a few minutes, I lose myself to what I’m doing, to watching the shading bring his tattoo to life in a new and wonderful way.

I don’t know how long I’ve been bent over Hemi’s side when I glance up at this face. His eyes are on me, and they’re glowing with…something. We are kindred spirits. I sense it, as I’m sure Hemi does. Or at least I hope he does. We both love art. We’re both consumed by it. And happily so. We both escape in it. Hide in it. Hide from the reality of our secrets.

Once again, as I think back to my brother saying that Hemi is hard to pin down, I find myself wondering what it is that Hemi’s hiding from me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR – Hemi

I’m not surprised that Sloane takes to the art of tattooing like a fish to water. I could see it in her from day one. What does surprise me is what the feel of her hands is doing to my concentration. And that’s unacceptable. I’m here for one reason and one reason only. This was the type of distraction that I knew I didn’t need. And yet, here it is.

The pragmatist in me says that I need to let my id run free and get her out of my system so I can focus on what I need to focus on. Which is not a woman. And certainly not this woman. Within a few seconds of the thought crossing my mind, the decision is made. It didn’t take much convincing at all. The old me was salivating at the hint of blood in the water. I felt him creeping back over me, rearing his ugly, hedonistic, egocentric head. And just this once, I welcome him back.

Already, I feel a stab of guilt. I tamp it down with an iron fist, reminding myself, Live, no regrets.

“You need to call home and make whatever excuses you need to for staying a little late at work tonight,” I tell Sloane.

Her head comes up and her eyes meet mine. She doesn’t ask questions. “Okay. How late will I be?”

“That’s up to you. But you’ll definitely be home before sunrise.”

I see on her face that she’s not particularly thrilled with that answer, but I warned her I wasn’t a breakfast kind of guy. That needs to sink in before we leave here tonight.

“Okay,” she says again.

“Why don’t you start wrapping it up? I’ll get Gil to close up for me.”

“I thought you didn’t let anybody close up the shop for you.”

“I’m making an exception tonight.”

Now that I’ve decided to let my inner animal off the chain, I’m anxious to get out of here. With Sloane. She wants to spread her wings, show the world she’s grown up. I can help her with that. I’ll help her grow up. The right way. And real fast.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE – Sloane

I walk outside to call my father. It’s humiliating enough that my family is so overprotective that, at twenty-one, I still have to call home to tell someone where I’ll be. But, it is what it is. There’s no changing it. At least not tonight. That’s what I’m trying to do, but it’s a work in progress.

“Locke,” Dad answers in his clipped way. I know the caller ID shows my name, but still, he answers the same way he does when anyone calls. I roll my eyes. He’s a cop through and through.

“Hey, Dad. I’m just calling to tell you I’ll be late tonight. Sarah and I are—”

“Nope. You and Sarah aren’t anything. You need to come straight home tonight.”

“Why? We won’t be—”

“Doesn’t matter,” he interrupts again. “This is important. You need to come straight home. In fact, Sig is off tonight. He’ll be making sure you get here all right.”

“What? I’m getting a police escort home from work from my brother?”

“No, your brother, who just happens to be a police officer, is making sure you get home safely. That’s all.”

“Semantics, Dad. This is ridiculous! When are y’all gonna see that I’m all grown up? That I can do—”