The Dom With the Perfect Brats (2 page)

She gestured to the table and looked up at Cross. “After you, sir.”

He froze in place, his shoulders tense. His mouth tightened like he was fighting back a grin. Malachi and he exchanged a look.

“You first,
sir
,” Malachi repeated with a smile. With a nudge he added, “How do you like that word coming from those sweet lips?”

Were they making fun of her? She sighed. “Are we doing a kickass tattoo here or having a slumber party?”

Cross sobered, drew himself up to his full height and stared down at her. She backed up a step, her heart pounding with excitement.

“Just wait
’til the pillow fight,” he finally said. “Then you’re really in trouble.”

She exhaled a laugh. “Shouldn’t we all be in
our underwear then?” A blush crept up her cheeks. Why the hell had she said that?

His eyes widened for a brief moment before he schooled his features.

Ugh. She needed to practice her flirting skills. Before Sean, the cheating bastard, she’d been pretty good at it, when she wanted to be. “Ready to get started?”

Cross stepped into her, crowding her until she felt like he even stole her breath. This time she didn’t back away. His scent, the warmth of his body invaded her senses, made her knees tremble and her heart flutter. But she stared him in the eye, proving she wouldn’t back down, no matter how commanding his presence.

He peered down at her through narrowed eyes. “You sure you know what you’re doing, girl?”

The term “girl” stung her pride. Sexist? Maybe she should tattoo extra deep and go heavy on the white highlights. Make him hurt. She laughed inside, knowing she’d never do something so unprofessional, tempting as it was.

She blinked and straightened her spine. “Of course I know what I’m doing. And my name is Gemma, not Girl.”

“I know.” He held eye contact for a moment too long, making her squirm under the weight of his glare.

Fuck. Why was she letting him get to her? Her chest felt all warm and fuzzy. Naughty images popped in her mind. Cross kissing her, biting her, holding her hair, getting a little rough. Shit. Now her clit was feeling warm too.

She couldn’t
think of anything to say – not that her vocal chords were working anyway. So she grabbed the razor off the table and dropped to her knees on the floor. The position put other thoughts in her mind, especially with her head so close to his...

Gemma
fought back a blush.

He made a funny noise, like his breath hitched. At least she wasn’t the only one affected. Did he feel the sexual chemistry too? God, this better not fuck up her chance at a job. Who was this guy anyway? The conversation she’d overheard sounded like he owned the shop, or maybe the building.

Quickly, she shaved the back of his leg. When the razor cruised over the taut muscle of his calf, she had to fight the urge to lay her palm there. As if she didn’t know what a man’s leg felt like.

Ridiculous. She should lick him, join his fan club,
and be done with it.

She
pressed on the stencil. When she lifted it away, it left a purple outline of a gargoyle sitting on a decorative ledge.

“Take a look in the mirror,” she told him. “Make sure you like the placement.”

He checked it in the full-length mirror on the other side of the shop then nodded. “Looks good.”

“Okay.”
Gemma avoided eye contact for the time being. Until she could control her fucking hormones. “Up you go.”

He walked to the table and settled face-down on top of it. The table creaked under his weight and his feet hung off the end.

“Don’t fuck it up,” he had the nerve to say before laying his head on his folded arms.

She sucked in a breath. “Stay still and be quiet like a good boy and I won’t make your tattoo look like a drunk, blind woman did it.”

Cross let out one deep chuckle, though it didn’t sound like he’d found her funny. He muttered something she couldn’t hear under his breath.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Malachi shake his head
and smile. “You better watch yourself. Does he look like someone you want to anger?”

Back to verbal sparring. That, she could handle. She turned to Malachi. “While I’m holding a tattoo machine? I think you mean that the other way around.” With a smirk, she looked at Cross. “What do you want again? A fairy?”

When he arched a brow, she nudged his leg and smiled. “Just kidding. One badass gargoyle coming up.”

“Good luck, man,” Mala
chi said then clapped him on his shoulder and walked to the front of the store.

She set up her station, falling into the routine easily. It felt good. A wave of peace settled over her. She could do this. When the needle was in the machine, she dipped it in the black ink and leaned over her canvas. “You ready?”

“Yes.”

Not able to resist one more jest, she said, “Just remember to breathe through the pain, big guy.”

He sighed. “Just do your job, girl.”

She chuckled then put needle to the skin. Cross turned out to be a most cooperative client. He lay still through the whole outline, even in the
most tender spot near the back of the knee. When she finished the outline, she wiped it down with a paper towel and pushed back to take a look. Solid lines, no shakiness – it was damn good.

She smiled. “Perfect.”

Cross didn’t make a sound.

“You okay over there? Are you one of those rare people that sleep through tattoos?”

He turned his head to give her a long look. “I’m in my happy place.”

Laughing as she changed needles to start the shading, she replied, “What’s in your happy place? Rainbows and unicorns?”

“Girls having pillow fights in their underwear.”

She fiddled with the machine, pressing on the foot petal to start and stop it. “Maybe that should be your next tattoo. A big back piece.”

“My back’s covered or I’d do it.”

“Starting again,” she said then began the complex shading that would make the gargoyle come to life. “So what’s on your back?”

He didn’t answer at first. Was he back in his happy place?

“A battle,” he finally said.

“A battle? That sounds interesting.” She wiped his skin with a paper towel, checked her work then started again. “Like a Luke Skywalker versus Darth Vader type thing? I did one of those once.”

“No. Like a demons versus angels type thing.”

He was religious? She shrugged. Her best friend growing up was Jewish. She’d been going to Seder dinner since she was a child. “Sounds cool. What made you choose that?”

When she paused to wipe again, he shifted on the table.

“You okay?” It was habit to check on clients. She’d had a few come close to passing out. Others cried. She tended to be on the gentler side for a tattooer, but depending on the area, the pain could be pretty intense. And she’d learned not to judge a client’s tolerance by their appearance.

“It’s not the pain making me uncomfortable,” he answered.

So he didn’t like questions about himself. Interesting. “Alright. Well, you don’t have to answer. I was just making conversation.”

He fell into silence again. She regretted making him shut down. “You know, I have an angel on the side of my leg. Just a little to the left of
where I’m putting your gargoyle. My friend back home did it. It’s kind of like my guardian. I’m not sure if it works that way, but it feels...just right to have it there, you know?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”

After she finished the shading to her satisfaction, she put the tight needle back in the machine and went back to add cracks and divots, giving it dimension so it looked like old stone.

“So do you work here too?” she asked him, unable to take the silence any longer. At her old shop,
she and the guys had bullshitted constantly. It had always felt like a party.

“I own the building,” he answered.

Ah. So she was right.

“Malachi rents this space from me. And I own and manage the shop next door.”

She stopped, holding the machine just above his skin. “The salon?”

A deep chuckle escaped him. “No. The gothic clothing store.”

“That makes more sense.”

“The salon is owned by Judy. A royal pain in my ass,” he mumbled, settling his forehead on his arms. “We almost done? I have to get back to work.”

“Yes.” She wiped the ink and small dots of blood away. “Just a few white highlights then I’m done.” Grinning, she stared down at her work. “It’s fucking awesome.”

“I’ve never met a girl so confident,” he said, laughing softly.

Fake it ’til you make it, she used to say. It had worked. Having to prove herself over and over had built her confidence. Now her biggest issue was perfectionism. Lync, the guy who she’d apprenticed with, had yelled at her constantly for overworking the skin, trying to make the tattoo perfect. She’d learned to scale back but still managed to find flaws in everything she did. She never let the customer know of cours
e–
just took mental notes to do better next time. And she practiced. And practiced and practiced. On paper, on herself. She coudn’t wear short shorts in the summer without getting more than a few disgusted stares at her inked-up thighs.

“Done!” she said cheerfully. After a
few spritzes with the rubbing alcohol mix and a wipe down with green soap, she loaded on the A&D ointment then went to help Cross off the table.

She reached for his arm but stopped when he shot her a glare. Macho bastard. “So what do you think?”

Cross walked to the mirror and twisted his upper body to see the new ink. She watched his face carefully. He didn’t seem the type to sugarcoat things but she didn’t know him well enough to be sure. Her customer’s satisfaction was always first in her mind.

He studied the tattoo far too long for her comfort.

“Well?” she finally blurted. “Do you like it? Cause it’s kind of stuck there.”

With a small smile, he turned to face her. “I like it.”

She had a feeling that was the best she’d get from him. It was probably even a compliment. She beamed like an idiot.

Cross’s
lips lifted in a cocky smile. “It’s a good tattoo.”

Nodding, she tried to tone down the crazy in her smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

“All done?” Malachi appeared next to them. “Let’s see it.”

Cross turned and Malachi bent down to inspect her work. Despite her confidence in the tattoo, she was still nervous having it assessed by another artist. She looked at it from his point of view. Crap. It could’ve used a little more grittiness in the scroll on the ledge and maybe
one more shadow behind his face and...

“That’s some excellent work there, darling,” Malachi said, interrupting her critique. “Fill out a few forms, let me do a background check, then you can start right away.”

Yes! She felt like jumping around the room, cheering. “Thank you!”

“Congratulations,” Cross said with a smile. “Glad I could help get you a job.”

“Yes, you made an excellent victim.”

His gaze flitted up and down her body
, and she thought he muttered something about her being his victim next. That should’ve freaked her the fuck out, but she was too happy to care.

She cleaned
the station while making mental plans to get her own apartment as soon as possible. The roommate her aunt, who lived nearby, had hooked her up with was –she shuddere
d–
perky. Gemma could barely handle her in the mornings, even after a cup of coffee. She needed to make friends and quick, just so she could hang out somewhere she wouldn’t be accosted by a bubbly ray of fucking sunshine. Friendly and positive was one thing, hugs at eight in the morning and a greeting in a high-pitched squealy voice just made her want to go back to bed.

“Hey
.” A girl’s husky voice from the front piqued Gemma’s interest. It’d be nice to see how they handled new customers. Their good business practice meant more success for her.

“I’d like to get a tattoo.” A skinny girl with brown hair in a
punk-style asymmetrical bob was speaking to a grinning Jake. Gemma knew why he was grinning. Her Aussie accent was charming.

Jake
got up from his stool behind the counter. “You’ve come to right place. I’m Jake.” He held out his hand and she shook it hesitantly.

“Izzy.”

Malachi and Cross ignored them, hovering over blueprints instead.

“What are you looking to get, sweetheart?” Jake asked.

“This is my first tattoo, but I’m thinking a phoenix.”

Oh boy. Tattoo virgin.

“But not very big. Maybe just the silhouette of one? I was hoping the artist could help me. I don’t really know what I’m doing.” She chuckled nervously.

Jake nodded. “Sure. We can make it small. An abstract shape type thing. Where do you want it?” Like he did to Gemma, he looked Izzy over with a smirk.