Chapter 10

Sophie

Using the iPad to design a tattoo has been a learning curve, but I love the way I can shape the lines perfectly with a simple stroke as opposed to sketching it out on paper. I can't wait to watch Linc ink this piece onto Natasha's breasts. Glancing out of the front window to the street, I spot Lincoln returning with his lunch—something I normally go out to get for him, but he understood I needed to tweak this design. I want it to be perfect. Dropping my eyes back to my work, I ensure the swirl that will sweep up over the area where there should be a nipple is delicate, yet detailed enough to disguise the missing areola.

I'm acutely aware of every shift of Lincoln's body as he stands close and his scent surrounds me, sending unfamiliar signals firing through my synapses. "That looks spectacular. It's going to cup her breasts like the best lacy bra money can buy."

Warmth fills my body and my lips tip up at his praise, but it's more his tone of approval that makes me happy. Anyone can love a piece of art, but it's something else to have an artist you admire think your work is spectacular. It means so much more. I tip my head back and almost gasp at the appreciation in his blue gaze as he studies the artwork on the iPad. "Thank you. I want it to be perfect. She's already been through so much; she deserves to have beautiful work on her body."

He raises his gaze to mine. "It will be. You've done an awesome job. I can't wait to ink it." He swallows and places an iced latte on the reception desk next to me. "Are you still okay to stay late so you can see how I do it?"

I point to the drink. "Thanks for this." He's always doing sweet things for me, such a turnaround from the man who seemed unhappy to hire me. "Yeah, of course." I drop my head back to the device to hide my guilt. I told Dad I was going out with the girls from Beyond the Fringe because I couldn't think of a reason I'd need to work late in the job he thinks I have. He thought it was strange to go out on a Tuesday night, but still gave me his blessing. God. The lies keep stacking up. I'm going to need to write notes on my calendar soon. "I wouldn't want to miss seeing my first design being inked. I can't wait to see it finished."

The sun is sinking below the buildings, creating glittering reflections on the windows when Natasha walks through the door with a man at her side. I'm giddy at the thought of what's about to happen. My very first design is going to be on her skin forever. Forever! "Hi, Natasha."

"Hi, Sophie." She gestures toward the man beside her. "This is my hubby, Jacob."

"Hi, Jacob. Welcome to Fine Line."

He looks around, taking everything in. "Thanks. This place is not what I was expecting." He drops his gaze to his wife. "You were right. It has a great vibe."

Lincoln steps through the door from the back area and Natasha turns toward him, her grin huge. She grabs Jacob's arm and drags him forward with her. "Jacob, this is Lincoln. He's doing my tattoo."

Lincoln's smile transforms his face from broody to friendly in an instant as he holds out his hand. "Hey, Jacob. Good to meet you, man." He looks down at Natasha. "I'm glad you brought someone for support."

"Good to meet you, too. I wasn't about to let her go through this on her own. I've been with her every step of the way. When she decided she needed to do this, I wanted to support her."

They talk for a few minutes, and then Lincoln leads them to his station. We've already discussed that I'll do the prep and position the stencil under his guidance if Natasha's happy to let me do that much. We ask for her permission, which she happily grants and I set about following the protocols to get her ready for her tattoo. My hands shake slightly as I shave her breasts to ensure the area is completely smooth. I've done a fair bit of shaving over the last few weeks, but it's strange to shave a woman's boobs. I wonder how Jacob feels having a man tattoo his wife's breasts.

With the shaving complete, I place the design where I want it and Lincoln hands me the marker so I can ensure I get it exactly right when I use the stencil stuff to transfer the design to her skin. He's not walking me through this step-by-step this time, understanding that I already know exactly where I want the tattoo to sit.

"Take your time, Soph. You've put a lot of time into the artwork; the positioning must be exactly how you envisioned," Lincoln quietly encourages.

I draw in a deep breath and relax my shoulders, then look up at Natasha. "Thanks for your patience. I want this to be perfect for you."

She smiles kindly. "It will be."

Her faith in me bolsters my confidence and with steady hands I place the design, ensuring the swirls sit perfectly where her nipples should be as the lacy outer design cups the shape of her breasts like a bra. When I finally peel the design away, I gasp at the sight of my artwork on her skin. Goosebumps race across my body, and a shiver makes its way up my spine.

When I glance up at Lincoln, his smile is warm, and his eyes are full of pride. "It's perfect." He glances up at Jacob. "What do you think?"

He shakes his head in wonder. "It's beautiful. It's exactly what I imagined when Tash told me about the design you sketched at her first appointment."

I'm glad he likes it, but the only person who truly counts is Natasha. I hold a mirror in front of her and study her face. Her eyes glisten and she covers her mouth with one hand. I watch as her eyes trace every part of her breasts. "This is incredible." She looks at me. "I'm so honored to be the first person to wear your beautiful art."

My stomach flips, my heart expands, and before I know what I'm doing, I've pushed into her and wrapped her in a loose hug so I don't rub the stencil from her boobs. She immediately returns my embrace and whispers thank you into my ear, and I realize this is going to be the best part of the job. Having my designs on someone else's body will be amazing, but knowing that my design makes them feel better about themselves is going to top that for me. And even though I've lied to my father about my job, I've finally found where I'm meant to be.

Ken wanders around the studio, saying goodnight to his plants before calling out goodnight to us. I'm not usually here this late, so I'm unfamiliar with his routine, but his love for his plants stretches my lips. Natasha smiles too.

The studio is silent except for the buzz of Lincoln's gun and the low murmur of Natasha and Jacob's conversation. Now and then, Lincoln explains his technique as he works over a scarred area of skin and I pay close attention to everything he says and does. I remember how it felt to have the tattoo gun on my scars and I glance up at Natasha's face to check she's okay.

Unsure how much time has passed, I adjust my position in my chair, stretching out my neck as Lincoln turns off his gun and wipes the area he was working on. "Finished." He rolls back, peeling his gloves off as he studies his work, then gestures to me. "Come back here and take a look."

I do as he says and gasp. Blinking quickly to prevent the tears burning my eyes from falling over my lashes, I shake my head. It looks gorgeous and her boobs look fantastic. The scarring is almost completely invisible to the eye and you wouldn't know that her nipples are missing. It's perfect. "You did such a great job, Linc," I tell him absently while admiring the design and the way it cups Natasha's breasts.

"It helps when I have an awesome design to work with." He grabs the mirror and holds it up for Natasha.

Her mouth falls open and tears rapidly fill her eyes, unable to be contained. Jacob wraps his arm around her and she buries her face in his chest for several minutes. He quietly strokes her hair and back while whispering to her. Her body trembles, but she slowly gets her emotions under control. When she pulls away from her husband, her eyes are red and puffy and embarrassment colors her features. "I'm so sorry. It's just that … it's so beautiful. I can honestly say that I don't think I'll be able to stop looking at my boobs now. I used to avoid looking in the mirror because I hated what I saw. You've made me love my body again. I don't know how to say thank you."

"You just did," Lincoln tells her.

Jacob thanks us too, and then Lincoln allows me to explain the aftercare. I refuse to take the money she tries to give me, even though she knows there's no charge. We share a last hug before I lock the door behind them. When I turn back to the room, Lincoln's nowhere to be seen, so I set about closing out the computer and cleaning up his station. The entire time I work, I ruminate over Natasha's reaction to her new tattoo, which has changed her view of herself, and I sniffle a little as I wipe my wet cheeks.

"That went well. Your design was perfect, and it looked fantastic. Once it's healed, it'll look even better than it did tonight." He freezes when he gets within a couple of feet of me and his dark brows drop low over his piercing eyes. "What's wrong?"

As much as I've tried to hold in my emotions, a sob breaks free and more tears burst forth. Embarrassed, I bury my face in my hands and try to temper my emotions. Lincoln's large hand slides into my hair, his hard body presses against mine, and he cradles me against his warmth. I drop my hands to grip his T-shirt on either side of his trim waist and mumble an apology into his chest, "I'm so-sorry. I don't understand what's come over me." Another sob breaks free without my permission and my cheeks flame with embarrassment.

Geez, girl, get a grip. He's gonna think you're a crazy woman.

His large hand strokes up and down my back in comfort, but that doesn't stop my traitorous body from responding to his touch. I press against him, soaking up his quiet support as my tears ebb. I don't know how I ever thought he was an angry man, because he's always been steady and patient with me.

"The first time you see your work on someone's skin can be emotional. And Natasha's response to it was … intense. I'm not surprised you're feeling the way you are."

I feel the vibration of his deep voice against my face as he speaks and, as embarrassed as I am, I can't resist looking at his face to check if he's as sincere as he sounds. The intensity etched in his handsome features steals my breath and my words.

His gaze traces my face carefully, then his hands cradle my head and his thumbs tenderly stroke the tears on my cheeks. My lips part and the distance between us vanishes slowly as my heart gallops, making the blood in my veins thrum. I desperately want his lips on mine. I know it's wrong and inappropriate, but I find the man appealing on so many levels.

My nipples pebble against his hard body and I can't mistake what's happening below his belt. He scrunches his eyes closed, groans, and then his lips swipe mine with the softest of touches. So soft, I'm unsure if I imagined his touch.

"I shouldn't be doing this, but I'll be damned if I can resist any longer," he murmurs harshly. His lips brush mine with every word while his hot breath sends waves of goosebumps crashing over my skin and then our mouths connect with a touch so tender that it doesn't match the husky tone of his voice and the tenseness against my body.

He brushes his lips across mine, then sweeps his tongue across the seam, eliciting a sigh as I shudder. Pressing against him, I encourage him to deepen the kiss and he doesn't disappoint. His tongue delves inside my mouth with wicked strokes.

My breaths grow shallow as I return his kiss with enthusiasm. It's enough to kick the kiss up another notch and I'm quickly out of my depth as his fingers tighten in my hair, twisting it, and dragging my head back. He kisses me like he can't live another moment without tasting me, and I rock my body into him to eliminate any space between us.

A ragged groan rumbles from deep within his chest, vibrating against me and ratcheting up my need. No one has ever kissed me so wickedly before. I guess that's the difference between kissing a high school boy and a grown-ass man. He puts his whole body into it and I'm here for every second of this deliciousness.

Finding my courage, I release his T-shirt from my grip and slide my hands up his obliques, feeling the hard, defined muscles beneath my fingertips. His muscles twitch as I continue my exploration with more confidence, while his kiss grows more demanding. Scratching my fingernails across his back, I grin internally when another groan rumbles from him. His hands slide down, gripping my ass firmly, and he lifts me from my feet. Wrapping my legs around his slim hips, I grind down on the hardness confined in his black jeans.