Are You Ready? (Everlasting Ink #3)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER

TWELVE

Briar

At ten minutes until five, I pull up outside Everlasting Ink. Forrest nailed my design on the first go. When I saw it, I cried because it was everything I hoped it would be. He texted me last night and told me he could get me in today. It’s Saturday night, but he assures me working late isn’t an issue.

I know that they usually don’t work late on Saturdays unless it’s a long-term client. Forrest is doing this for me. He knew I’d need a sitter for the girls, and he’s making the time to make this easier on me and my sister. I argued at first, telling him I could come in any evening after work, but he was insistent that tonight was perfect. How he knew that Brogan wasn’t working today is beyond me, but I’m grateful and excited to be here.

I might also be a tiny bit excited to see him. We text every day and more often than not, he calls me. However, I haven’t seen him since last weekend at my birthday party, which was held at his house.

So, here I am. I’m nervous because this is my first tattoo, but it can’t be worse than giving birth to twins, right? That’s what I keep telling myself. Reaching over to the passenger seat, I grab my purse, drop my phone inside, pick up my keys, my tumbler of water, and climb out of the car.

When I enter the shop, I notice it’s quiet, which I didn’t expect. I thought there would be at least a few straggling customers still here. Forrest is sitting behind the counter and offers me a welcoming smile.

“There she is.”

I don’t know what I expected, but it’s not for him to come rushing around the counter and wrapping me in a hug. He lifts me in the air, holding me tightly.

“I missed you,” he murmurs.

His words have my heart fluttering and my belly doing flips. When you look at Forrest, you see the ink, the hair, those mesmerizing eyes. The combination makes you think bad boy. You’re wrong. Forrest Huntley is nothing but a giant, tatted-up teddy bear, and he makes it impossible for me not to feel… something—everything where he is concerned.

He places me back on my feet, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I missed him, too, but I can’t seem to form the words. “Are you sure this is okay? I hate that you’re using your Saturday night for me.”

“Briar, if we weren’t here, we would be doing something with the girls. My Saturday night was always going to be for you.”

His words make me dizzy, but in a good way. He’s so open about wanting to spend time with me. It’s refreshing and confusing all at the same time. However, I can admit—even if just to myself—that I don’t hate it. I also don’t hate how he seems to always be thinking about my daughters and how they’ll fit into any situation.

“Thank you.”

“Let me lock the door. You can go on back to my room. It’s just the two of us here for the rest of the night.”

“Oh.” I suspected, but I wasn’t sure, and to hear him say it makes me nervous. Not because I’m afraid of being alone with him. It’s quite the opposite. I think if I let myself, it might be something I could and would crave .

I move on down the hall, turning into his room or office. I’m not really sure what I should be calling it, but I’m here, where we initially went over my idea for my tattoo. I spy a bag of food on the desk in the corner as he walks in the room. “Did I interrupt your dinner?”

“Nope. We’re having dinner together. I thought we could eat before we start. I don’t need you passing out on me.” He gives me a grin that my body instantly responds to.

“You bought me dinner?”

“I did. Just BLTs and fries from the place around the corner. There are drinks in the break room. Water. There are some sodas too; I’m not sure what. You’re welcome to take a look.”

I hold up my tumbler. “I have water. I assumed this would be a long session, and I wanted to be prepared.”

“It’s pretty big. We’ll probably have to break it up, but that’s fine. Gives me more time to see you.” He moves toward the desk and pulls out a rolling chair, offering it to me. I take it, and he gets to work passing out our dinner.

“Thank you, Forrest. I was really nervous, but you’ve managed to help calm my fears by just being you.”

“I was hoping having dinner together first might help relax you a little.” He unwraps his sandwich and takes a bite. He holds up his index finger while he chews and quickly swallows. “I printed several stencils so we can apply them in different places unless you’ve made a decision on where you want your ink.”

“I’m still undecided. I was hoping you could help with that. Where do you think it would look best?” I pop a french fry into my mouth, although I should have waited because I almost choke when he runs his heated gaze over my body. I cough and reach for my water.

He clears his throat. “We can try a few places. We won’t start until you're thrilled with the location,” he assures me.

“Thank you.” I pop another fry into my mouth.

“What did you and the girls do today?” he asks.

“I did some cleaning and laundry. We took a walk around the river. The girls have decided they want to try fishing. ”

“Yeah?” His eyes light up. “Is that something y’all do often?”

“No. Never with the girls. Brogan and I used to go a lot with Dad. We would come to stay with my grandparents, and then after they passed away, Dad kept their house, which is now the house we live in, and we would still come and spend a couple weeks in the summer and lots of weekends. That’s actually how my girls got their names. Dad always took us to the river and said that the fish would bite the best in the rain. I don’t know… but with my name being Briar, it just kind of fit, and it's after a memory I’ll always cherish with my dad and sister.”

He stares at me for several seconds, a small smile pulling at his lips. He nods and wipes his mouth on his napkin.

“What? What’s that look?” I point at his face.

“It was meant to be,” he replies with a smirk.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess so.” I’m not sure where he’s going with this, but I don’t want to be rude.

“Briar, River, and Rayne.” He lists off our names. “And Forrest.” He points to his chest. “We match. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before now, but we’re meant to be.”

I can’t help but return his smile. “Just names.” That’s what I say, but my heart thunders as if it knows he’s right.

“I’m just saying, if we have more kids, we could name them Hunter, Sage, Willow, Clay. The possibilities are endless.”

“M-More kids?” I croak.

“Yeah, you want more, right?”

I nod. I start to explain to him that I don’t know that I’ll trust enough again to get to that point, but he already knows that. So, a nod is all he’s going to get as I take a huge bite of my sandwich to keep from having to reply.

“Me too.” He winks.

“That’s kind of soon, right?” I ask him.

“Nah. That’s what dating is for. To get to know someone and see if your life’s goals align. We need to have these conversations.”

“We were just seeing how it goes. ”

“We are. Exclusively,” he adds. “I will never give you anything but one-hundred-percent of who I am. I’ll never lie to you, and I’ll never hide from you. That’s me, and the truth, even if it’s not what you want to hear.”

I let his words sink in. “You remind me of him, you know. Of my dad.” I whisper the confession. My palms are sweating. I don’t do this. I don’t open up, but Forrest makes it so damn easy to talk to him. Being around him and with the way he’s always including my daughters, endears me even more to him. I don’t know if this is a long game he’s playing, but something in my gut tells me that’s not the case. I was just lucky enough to find one of the good ones. I was lucky enough to find a man like my father.

“I wish I could have met him,” he tells me.

“Yeah.” I offer a soft smile. “Me too.”

“So,” he says, once we’ve both finished eating. “We talked about your shoulder, your thigh, and your back. We could do your arm, but it would be a half-sleeve. We could do your ribs, but that’s pretty tender.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Honestly, I think the arm is out. This is a pretty big piece, and I feel like the other locations would be better than your arm.”

“Okay. Can we see what they look like? Is that too much work for you?”

“Not at all. I encourage it. That’s why I made extra stencils. I have stencil remover we can use to get rid of them.”

“That sounds like a lot of work. Maybe I should just pick a spot?”

“How about this? Let’s narrow it down to your top two locations. You might love one of them more and we’ll be all set, but I’m prepared to try all of them.”

“Okay. I think shoulder and thigh are my top two.”

“Great. Go ahead and take off your shirt and remove your bra strap from your shoulder. We might need to remove it all the way.”

Shit. Why didn’t I think about that part? I’ve never been naked in front of a man, at least not any times that I can remember. Taking a deep breath, I give myself an internal pep talk. I can do this. With shaking hands, I lift my T-shirt over my head and hold it against my chest before pulling my bra strap over my right shoulder.

“I should go ahead and shave these areas in case this is where you decide to get the tattoo.”

“Sure,” I croak.

His large hand lands on my bare shoulder. “I’ve got you, B. There is no one here but us, and I locked not only the front door but mine too. It’s just you and me.”

I nod, because there’s a lump of nerves in the back of my throat preventing me from speaking. Closing my eyes, I focus on breathing evenly while he shaves my shoulder and applies the stencil.

“I need to unhook your bra. Are you okay with that?”

I nod, but nothing happens. “Yes,” I say, finally finding my words. He unhooks my bra, and I press my T-shirt a little tighter against my chest.

“Hold on a second.” He moves around the room and comes back with a dark gray plush blanket. “I’m going to turn around. Wrap this around you, and I’ll lower the back to where I need it. Maybe that will make you feel more comfortable. It gets washed after every use. I keep it because sometimes during long sessions it gets cold in here and some clients find it comforting.”

“Thank you, Forrest.”

“I’m turning around. You tell me when you’re ready.” I watch as he turns his back to me and faces the opposite side of the room. Quickly, I remove my bra and wrap the blanket around me. I shove my bra into my T-shirt and place it on the desk.

“Okay.”

Forrest turns slowly, and his eyes trail over me. “Mirror,” he croaks. “Come to the mirror.” He motions toward the full-length mirror on the wall. “Hold this one.” He hands me a mirror to hold and positions me so that I can see the tattoo stencil. Gently, he moves the blanket so that I can see the full thing.

“What do you think? ”

“I think you’re fucking gorgeous,” he breathes.

Lowering the mirror, I meet his gaze. “I meant about the placement.”

“That too. It doesn’t matter where you put this piece on your body, Briar. It’s going to be incredible. I’ll make sure of it.”

His confidence eases my fears and helps to boost my excitement. “Let’s check on the thigh.”

He nods for me to move back to the table in the center of the room. “You’ll need to lower your shorts unless you want it to be closer to your knee.”

“I think higher,” I admit.

He swallows hard. “I’ll turn around.”

He does so, and I try to hold on to the blanket to keep myself covered while taking off my shorts, but I lose my balance. I yell as I catch myself on the table and the blanket drops to the floor. Forrest turns in a flash, his eyes full of worry until he takes in the scene before him.

I rush to grab the blanket, but I’m standing on it, and I’m flustered. My shorts are unzipped, hanging open, my bare breasts are on display, and Forrest, he’s staring at me like I’m his next meal.

He holds my gaze as he steps toward me. Dropping to his knees, he gently lifts one leg then the other, rescuing the blanket. He places the blanket on the table while he peers up at me. No words are exchanged as he grabs the hem of my shorts and pulls them over my thighs.

My heart is racing.

My knees are weak.

My head is spinning.

I want to run, to remove myself from the situation, but I hold steady. I know this man. He’s never given me any reason to think he would hurt me or take advantage of me. However, we’re here alone. Locked in this room. I start to panic when I feel his lips press to my quivering belly.

“Breathe, baby,” he says, keeping his voice soft. “It’s just me. ”

I nod. I don’t bother to hide the panic. I know he can see it written all over my face. I open my mouth to explain, but the words won’t come out.

“You’re beautiful, Briar. Every fucking inch of you.”

“Stretch marks,” I mumble.

He smiles. It’s soft and endearing, and my muscles relax from that simple act alone. “Those marks brought you two very adorable little girls. They’re a part of you and your journey to becoming a mom. They’re sexy because they’re a part of you, Briar.”

His palms fall to my ankles on each leg, and he slowly trails them up. When he reaches my thighs, he presses a tender kiss to each, before doing the same to my belly. Climbing to his feet, his eyes stay on mine as his hands roam over my ribs. When he reaches my breasts, I suck in a sharp breath as he tests their weight in the palms of his hands.

“Should I stop?”

I shake my head because I’m not capable of words. What I can do is feel. His hands are rough yet soft at the same time. His touch is tender, yet it lights a fire inside me that I’ve never felt before. Heat pools between my thighs, and I wonder if he knows. Can he see what he’s doing to me? Does he know that my body craves him, when my mind still tells me to be cautious?

His thumbs brush over my nipples, and I can’t stop the moan that falls from my lips. My face heats with embarrassment, but not enough for me to ask him to stop. Not even when he leans in close, and his hot breath fans over my breasts. His eyes never leave mine.

“Are you good?”

I nod.

“Do you want me to stop?”

I shake my head.

“Words, baby. I need to hear them.”

“N-No.”

He watches me, looking for what I’m not sure, but he must find it, because he closes the last little bit of distance, and runs his tongue over one nipple then the next. My hands move to his shoulders. I don’t know if I want to push him away or pull him closer.

“Forrest.” I breathe his name like a soft caress.

“What do you need?”

“I—I don’t know.”

He takes another taste of one nipple, then the next before his lips trail over my collarbone and up my neck. He slides one hand behind my neck, the other around my waist, and pulls me in close. My chest rises and falls as if I’ve just run a marathon. My knees are wobbly at best. My hands are clammy, my heart feels like it might explode, and my panties are ruined.

I’m on sensory overload.

He leans in, and I close my eyes, waiting for his lips to touch mine. They never come. Instead, he rests his forehead against mine. That’s when I focus on him. His breathing is also labored, and his grip on both my neck and my waist is tight, as if he’s afraid I might disappear.

“You’re beautiful, Briar. The most beautiful and sexy woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Thank you for trusting me and for giving me this moment with you.” He pulls away, pressing his lips to my forehead.

Reaching around me, he grabs the blanket and wraps it around me. I grip it tightly, not wanting it to fall again. Not that it matters at this point. He’s seen all of me already. Well, all but what my black lace panties are hiding. He grips my hips, and he lifts me to the table. He moves the blanket out of the way and gets to work shaving my thigh before applying the stencil. My heart is pounding, and I’m sure he can hear it. I expel a heavy breath as he stands from his stool to get out of the way, and I watch as he adjusts himself.

He’s hard.

For me.

“Let’s take a look.” His voice is gravelly. He again lifts me from the table and guides me to stand before the full-length mirror. “What do you think? ”

I have to swallow a few times and clear my throat to find my voice. “I like them both.”

He smiles. “Me too, baby. Your shoulder is easier to hide. We could move this up to your hip.” His hand reaches under the blanket and gently traces my hips.

“I think the shoulder is my favorite. It will feel more appropriate to show the girls.”

“Good thinking, Momma.” He smiles. “Let me get this one washed off and we can get started.”

With his hand on the small of my back, he leads me back to the table and again lifts me to sit. I don’t argue that I’m capable of doing it on my own. The way he touches me, it makes me feel cherished. Wanted. That’s not a feeling I’ve ever felt. Not outside my family.

Forrest gets to work cleaning the stencil from my thigh and then starts setting up for my tattoo. I should probably get dressed, at least back into my shorts, but I don’t make a move to do so.

“Do you want your shorts before we get started?”

“I—No. I’m okay,” I reply softly.

“This is a big piece. We’ll start with the outline and see how you’re feeling and then move on to the shading. It might take us a few sessions.”

“I’m fine with that.” I’m quick to agree. I mean, look how this one is turning out. I’d be a fool to pass up more time with him.

“Lie on your belly.”

I do as he says, thankful for the blanket as a barrier against the leather of the table.

“Do you want some music?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“If you change your mind or need a break, let me know.”

“I will. Thank you, Forrest.”

He’s got his gloves on and the tattoo gun in his hand from his spot on his stool. I’m lying on my belly as he leans in and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “My pleasure, baby.”