Lost, Found, Loved Page 7

  “Who’s Tate?” I asked.

  “He owns St. Skin, darlin’.”

  “Who’s Prick?”

  Axel grabbed his beer. “Just be thankful you haven’t met him. Hopefully you never will.”

  “Is that his real name?” I asked.

  “Oh, here we go with the names again,” Axel said.

  “I’m just curious, asshole,” I snapped.

  “Okay,” Zayne said. He peeled the shot glass out of my hand. “We’re going to switch you to light beer.”

  “Fuck off, Zayne,” I said. “You’re too pussy to even talk to me.”

  “Whoa,” Axel said. “I think I like her.” Axel crouched down a little. “Is Zayne holding you against your will? Blink twice if yes.”

  “Get out of here,” Zayne said to Axel. “Damn. Can’t I just come have a drink?”

  “When was the last time you had a drink with a woman?” Axel asked.

  “Get out of here,” Zayne repeated.

  “Axel, wanna throw?” a voice called out.

  There was a guy standing with a dart in each hand.

  “On it, Breck,” Axel said. He looked at me one last time. “Well, you enjoy yourself.”

  I then watched as Zayne calmed a little. He stepped back and took his seat.

  I just kept staring.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Jealous?”

  “Jealous? Me? Of what?” Zayne asked.

  “As soon as Axel said something about me, you jumped right up.”

  Zayne laughed. “Really? You’re a little full of yourself, huh? You get drunk and you want to fight and think you’re wanted by everyone? That’s a bad combo, darlin’.”

  “Do you want me, Zayne?”

  He reached for his beer, skipping the question.

  I was feeling playful, so I touched his leg. I turned and faced him. With my fingers, I started to slowly creep up his leg.

  “Zayne…”

  He leaned forward and grabbed my wrist. “What are you trying to do here?”

  “Forget.”

  “Yeah? Why don’t you tell me what you’re trying to forget.”

  “Make me,” I flirted.

  “Make you? Are we kids now?”

  “You’re a shithead, Zayne.”

  “More whiskey muscles,” he said.

  With a smile. A really sexy smile. A smile that made me tingle everywhere.

  I moved from the barstool, thinking I could playfully slither my way toward him. But when I stepped off the barstool, I misjudged my footing and tripped on Zayne’s foot. I fell right into him, making him catch me.

  My head almost smacked against his face.

  I was so close to him, my hair in my face, my cheeks burning.

  Zayne reached and moved the hair out of my eyes. “So, is this what you wanted? To get drunk and want to flirt-fight me?”

  “No,” I confessed. “I don’t know if I like this at all.”

  “Then what did you want?”

  “Something crazy,” I said. “To just…”

  “Forget,” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why don’t I get you back to my place and settled? You could sleep this off, and we’ll figure something out in the morning.”

  “No,” I said. I pushed away from Zayne. Oh, his chest is hard. Rock fucking hard. Just like his arms. Does he have tattoos on his chest? I want to see. “I’m not done tonight.”

  “Well, I don’t think more drinking is going to do you any good, darlin’.”

  “Fine. No more drinking. I want to do something even crazier.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Something I’ve never done before.”

  “Damn,” Zayne said. “I thought I was going to get you into my bed.”

  I scoffed. “Who’s to say I’m not a virgin?”

  Zayne raised an eyebrow. “Now you have my attention.”

  “Ew. Pig. Men are all fucking pigs.” I turned my head and then pointed at Axel, Breck, and everyone else. “You’re all stupid ugly pigs!”

  “Jesus, Bella,” Zayne said. He jumped and grabbed me. “You want me to fight everyone in this bar because of you?”

  “That would be fun,” I said, smiling. “But no, that’s not what I want.”

  “So then spill it. The night is getting along here.”

  I put a finger to his chest. “I want to get a tattoo, Zayne.”

  “Yeah? Okay. I like that idea. Tell you what. We’ll get something figured out and I’ll take you to St. Skin tom-”

  “No,” I said. “No. Listen to me.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “I want a tattoo…done by you…tonight…”

  11

  ZAYNE

  She was drunk, and I was feeling as crazy as her eyes. I had to get her out of the bar anyway. Bella definitely had some whiskey muscles, that was for sure. Not that I thought anything serious would go down in Little Mikey’s, but if she did say something to the wrong person and fists started to fly, I’d be the one in the damn middle of it all.

  So, I had her in the passenger seat of my truck, her words flitting through my mind. And that gave me another idea. I forgot about the whole wedding invitation thing and me having Gonzo pretend her car was still broken down.

  I took her to St. Skin.

  Whether or not I was allowed to do it, I didn’t give a shit. I had a key. And I was sure the other guys had done the same thing at some point, too.

  I parked around back and looked over at Bella. “Here we are, darlin’.”

  “Looks like a shit hole,” she blurted out.

  I laughed. “It’s the back of the building. I’m sneaking you in.”

  “Oh, you rebel,” she said.

  “Can you get out of the truck on your own?”

  “Fuck you, Zayne. I’m fine.”

  I shook my head.

  She was angry not only because she was drunk. This went far beyond anything that was happening tonight or since she met me. This went back to where she came from. The guy that hurt her. He really must have done a job. As messed up as it was, the worse he did her in, the better it was for me.

  And damn me for even thinking that, I know.

  I got out of the truck and waited at the front. I gave a minute or so, arms crossed, looking up at a star-laced sky. The night was cool and comfortable. But I wasn’t there to stargaze and think about the weather.

  “Zayne,” Bella finally said.

  “Darlin’,” I said.

  “Come here.”

  I walked to the passenger door, figuring she needed help getting out. If that were the case, there was no way in hell I was going to tattoo her. Being a little buzzed was one thing, being drunk was another. But so drunk you can’t get out of a truck? Nah. I’d put her back in the truck and drive her home.

  Instead, I found Bella standing on her own. Not even swaying.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Don’t chicken out,” she said.

  “What?”

  “I want a tattoo, Zayne. Right now.”

  “That’s why we’re here.”

  “I’m not that drunk, Zayne.”

  “How drunk are you, though?” I asked.

  “Drunk enough to get a tattoo and not regret it in the morning.”

  “Okay,” I said. “That’s within my working levels.”

  I gave her my hand and nodded to the building. “Let’s go then.”

  “I’m also drunk enough to not regret other things…”

  The words floated around me as Bella pulled herself closer to me. She thought she had the upper hand on me, but no fucking chance. With a quick spin, I had her against the side of my truck. My body gently against hers. Looking down at her. I swore I saw more fucking beauty and stars in her eyes than looking up at the night’s sky.

  I grinned, loving this exchange between us. It wasn’t the typical cat and mouse bullshit that I usually just s
tomped on and took full control over. This was different. I could feel that we sort of needed each other. That we could understand each other better.

  I moved down toward her, her eyes going wider as my lips got closer to hers. Only I skipped her kissable lips and gave her a peck on the cheek.

  “Come on, darlin’,” I whispered, my cheek touching hers. “I can’t wait to touch you.”

  I felt her hands grab me.

  I broke away and got the key to St. Skin ready and unlocked the back door.

  I hurried to punch in the security code so the police didn’t show up. Fuck, that would have been a great conversation to have with Tate, huh?

  My tour of the place consisted of taking Bella straight to my room.

  I flicked on the light on the corner table and sat down at my desk.

  “This is cool, Zayne,” she said.

  I looked back at her. “Cool?”

  “I don’t know. Awesome? Amazing? Wild? The drawing is so good. I hope you know how good you are at this.”

  I smiled.

  I grabbed the stencils and went right to work on what I wanted on Bella’s body. And I knew the spot I wanted it too.

  I could feel her walking around the room. She was eyeing everything on my wall. I kept pictures that meant something to me. Tattoos that hit home for me. The first tattoos I did. The last tattoo I did before hitting the road. Tattoos that came with stories that stuck with me. And some of the stuff on the walls were just drawings that hit me that never became tattoos.

  “Zayne, how did you get into this?” Bella asked.

  I didn’t look up from my work. “It was either this or going to jail, darlin’.”

  “How so?”

  I ignored her.

  I got something basic done in no time and then I stood up. I walked to the leather chair and patted it.

  “Your throne, my queen,” I said.

  Bella turned and I saw her fingers twitch with hesitation.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked.

  “I’m sure you’ve felt worse pain.”

  Shit, you probably feel worse pain right now in your heart, Bella.

  I patted the leather chair again.

  Bella slowly approached. “What are you gonna tattoo on me?”

  “It’s a surprise,” I said.

  “Nothing vulgar, I hope.”

  “Oh…you don’t want me to tattoo Kiss This on your lower back with an arrow pointing down?”

  Bella giggled. “Seriously?”

  “You can’t imagine the stuff I’ve had to tattoo before.”

  “Where are you tattooing me?”

  “Right here in this chair,” I said.

  “Zayne…you know what I mean.”

  I gently slid my hands to her hips. “Trust me, Bella. You wanted to do something wild, right? Here we are.”

  “Right.”

  She swallowed hard.

  I slowly moved my hands to the middle of her jeans. “But I do need you to give me some room in these…”

  I unbuttoned her jeans, and she let out a gasp.

  I then helped her down on the chair, her hands clutching at my shirt. I hovered over her, staring down at her. She was really beautiful. My intentions with her weren’t the greatest, but that was fine by me.

  “Zayne,” she whispered.

  “Bella,” I whispered back.

  My left hand slowly started to tug at her jeans. My fingertips touched the edge of her panties. Truth was, in my job, I had seen plenty of exposed skin. It was just part of the gig. I had to turn anything in my mind that thought it was sexy or whatever because when it came down to it, this was art.

  But with Bella, it was different. So very different.

  She slowly reached for the chair and gripped it tight.

  I had complete power over her right then.

  My fingers curled around her jeans and her panties. I started to pull, needing them down a little more for what I wanted to tattoo on her. I felt the softness of her skin. The curve of her hip. I glanced down for a split second and saw the right side of her jeans down more than the left. The way her body gave way, her very lower belly exposed, way too much, just an inch or two shy of showing more of her beauty.

  Fuck.

  I moved my eyes up, and when I saw her again, that was all I could take.

  I moved down and pressed my lips against hers.

  I kissed her, telling myself it was going to be just once. But then I kissed her again and again. I felt the gentle softness of her tongue flirt with my lips. I pulled away with a growl. If I kissed her again, things would have kept going. Right there in the chair. Right in my room. Right in St. Skin.

  Glancing down at my left hand, I realized how tight of a grip I had on that side of her jeans and panties. Seconds away from ripping her clothes off the rest of the way.

  “I better get started,” I whispered.

  I forced my hand away from her curvy hip, and I sat down on my stool. I eyed her bare skin one more time, knowing that spot on her hip would never be bare again.

  “Is this crazy, Zayne?” she asked.

  “Of course it is, darlin’. Everything happening right now is crazy. But crazy isn’t always a bad thing. Crazy brought me here to St. Skin. Crazy got me on the road, and I found you there. Crazy had you on that road in your beat-up car, knowing there was a chance it would break down.”

  “Crazy is good then,” Bella said.

  “Crazy is really good,” I said. “Fuck being normal, Bella.”

  She smiled. “You better hurry and do this. Before I change my mind.”

  I grabbed for my stencil. I put my rubber gloves on. I got everything else ready that I needed. I touched her hip and made sure I knew exactly where I wanted it. I then did something I’d never done before. I put my hands to Bella’s body. My left hand at her side, my right hand at her leg. I came forward and gently kissed her bare, exposed hip.

  I felt her shudder to my touch and she let out a little groan to my kiss.

  Then I put the stencil on her skin and was ready to go.

  I buzzed the needle a few times, a warning that it was going to happen.

  “You know, I usually get the story behind the tattoo,” I said to Bella. “But this time, I have the story and you don’t.”

  We looked at each other again. I could tell she was nervous as hell.

  “I’m going to just touch you with it,” I said. “Give you an idea of what it feels like. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said.

  I touched her soft, sweet skin, the tattoo gun ready to tear her skin apart and deposit ink. She flinched and sucked in a breath.

  I stopped.

  “See? Not bad, right?”

  “No,” she said. “Keep going.”

  I went back to her skin and started to work the outline. I felt her body tense up. But there was no stopping me now. So I focused on the ink, what I wanted on her skin, and I forgot about everything else that waited outside St. Skin.

  I finished the outline and wiped her skin. Even that looked really good on its own. But I wanted some color for my idea. Once finished, I would explain what it meant to me and what I hoped it meant to her.

  “You doing good?” I asked.

  Bella turned her head. I realized right then there were tears in her eyes. “No. Zayne. I’m not good at all. I caught my boyfriend in bed with my best friend.”

  I sat there, frozen.

  That was the one thing about tattoos that some people didn’t quite get. It wasn’t about pain. About looking cool. About trying to be different. There was something about the ink, the buzz of the needle, capturing that image and emotion on your skin where it would remain forever. A snapshot of your life that was just for you.

  Bella blinked fast and reached across her body with her left hand to wipe the tears off her cheeks. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

  “So, that’s what happened?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Things weren’t the best anyway. I mean, as long as
I gave up everything I wanted in life, that was fine with him. That’s why I was working at the diner. I wanted to be a writer.”

  “A writer? That’s cool.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s a waste of time. I gave it up. Well, sort of. I was writing at the cafe when I met Diem.”

  I slowly nodded. “Something you want, Bella, can’t be a waste of time. Don’t let anyone tell you that.”

  “Well, I did. And then he fucked my best friend.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” she said. “He blamed me for it.”

  “Of course he did. He’s a piece of shit. That’s what pieces of shit do. They blame everyone but themselves.”

  “The two of them blamed me,” she said. “Told me the way I was acting brought them together. Because they cared so much about me. And it just…happened. An emotional thing. They lost control for a second.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Lost control for a second? That must have been a hell of a second to get naked and into bed.”

  She turned her head away.

  Shit.

  “Sorry,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No. It’s okay. You should say it. I’ve been battling it in my head since it happened. One second I want to freak out. The next second, I want to buy into it. I mean, I understand where they’re coming from, I guess. I’m not the easiest person to deal with.”

  I put my hand to her belly. “Darlin’, no. Don’t do that to yourself. Not like this. You can’t blame who you are for something like that.”

  “I’m flaky, Zayne,” she said. “I make crazy decisions real fast. Like packing up and leaving. Or just sitting on the hood of my car when it breaks down. Or sleeping in your apartment when I barely know you. Or having you tattoo me right now after I’ve had too much to drink.”

  I peeled the rubber gloves off my hands and threw them out. I pushed my tray out of the way and stood up. I leaned forward, my left hand grabbing the chair.

  With my other hand, I touched her face.

  “Darlin’, I like it,” I said. “I like it all. I like flaky. I like crazy. I like living. And that’s what you’re doing. The guy made the decision to do what he did. So did your best friend. I don’t even give a shit if they were drunk. Because you know what? You were sober enough to put yourself in a position to let that happen. That alone is cheating.”