Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
I have a feeling it won’t matter how old I am. Forrest is always going to see me as that little girl he’d take to his place for the weekend once he moved out, to give me a break from our alcoholic parents.
We’re quiet as we eat. I don’t make small talk. I don’t want to give Roman any type of ammunition to change his mind about this. I barely touch my six-inch sub, while he devours his twelve inch in what seems like a few bites.
“You not hungry?” he asks, noticing that I’m picking at my food.
“Too excited to eat.”
“You want this that bad?”
“Yes.” I stand and start cleaning up our mess, wrapping up my sandwich and placing it in the refrigerator for later. “Ready?” I ask when I turn to face him. He’s leaning against the counter, feet crossed at the ankles, watching me.
“I’m ready,” he finally says, before heading down the hall to his room with me on his heels.
“Have a seat on the table,” he says without looking at me. “Left hip?” he asks.
“Yes.” My pulse is pounding, and my palms are back to sweating. I can’t believe he said yes. After over a year of perfecting this design, it’s finally going to be a permanent part of me.
“Maybe we should call your brother,” he suggests.
“What part of I’m an adult do you not understand?”
“He’s going to wonder where you are if you don’t come home. They know the hours of the shop, baby girl.”
I roll my eyes and huff out a breath. He’s right. I hate it, but he’s right.
“Hand me my bag.” I point to where my purse is sitting across the room on the desk. He does as I ask, and hands me my phone. I start to type out a text, but I know my brother, and he’s going to call me anyway. I might as well get this over with. I dial his number and place the call on speaker so that Roman can be privy to the conversation. This is just delaying us. I swear if my brother messes this up for me, I’ll be pissed.
“Hey, kid.”
“Hi, Forty.”
“Are you on your way home?”
Roman gives me an “I told you so” look, and I roll my eyes, which only makes him grin. “No. I’m still at the shop.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. I’m actually going to have Roman give me a tattoo.” There is nothing but silence that greets me on the other end. “Forrest?”
“Do you know what you want?”
“Yes. It’s my own design. I’ve been working on it for over a year now.”
“You know I’ll do it for you.”
“I know, but my plan is to get ink from each of you.” That’s not really my plan, but the idea popped into my head, and I’m rolling with it, hoping that it will help ease my brother's bruised ego.
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, it’s something I think would be cool. A piece from each of you.”
“I was your first,” Forrest boasts proudly.
“Obviously.”
“Can I come and watch?”
Shit. “No. I want it to be a surprise. You know Rome will take good care of me. Right, Rome?”
He clears his throat. “Always.”
“Well, I can’t wait to see it. Is this a one-session deal?”
“Yeah,” Roman answers. “A few hours if she can stand it.”
“She did great when I worked on her. I think she can do it.”
“Thanks, Forty. Now, I gotta go. I’ve been dying to have this done, and it’s time to get to work. Well, for Rome to get to work.” I laugh.
Forrest chuckles. “All right. I’ll wait up for you. Call me before you leave so I know you’re on your way home.”
“Love you, big brother.”
“Love you too, kid.” I end the call and hand Roman my phone. “Ready?”
He nods. “I’m going to need you to slip off your shorts.”
My heart gallops in my chest. I knew that this was going to happen. Regardless of that knowledge, getting undressed with him when it’s just the two of us here shoots a thrill through me.
Chapter
Nine
Roman
* * *
Out of all the times I imagined getting Emerson out of her pants, this wasn’t on the list. I turn my head and begin setting up my machine and the ink, because I can’t watch her strip out of those tiny jean shorts she’s wearing.
Uncapping the bottle of ink, I notice there is a slight tremble in my hands. Fuck me, I wasn’t nervous when I did my first piece all those years ago, but the knowledge that I’m going to have my hands all over her soft skin, even if mine will be gloved, is wreaking havoc on me.
I should have said no. That would have been the right thing to do, but dammit, I just couldn’t do it. When she looks at me with those sparkling green eyes of hers, I don’t stand a chance at refusing her.