Page 150 of Kings Fear No One
Goosebumps spring onto my arms and tears mist my eyes. I’m rendered speechless not for the first time tonight, but most overwhelmingly of all. How is it possible to be full of so much love you can cry?
One glance up at Logan, and I see the face of my soulmate. The man I’ve been waiting a lifetime for.
My breath bursts out of me as I impatiently wipe the tears that have fallen and then throw myself in his arms.
We’re blocking the doorway of the tattoo parlor, but the artist seated at the work chairs seems to understand. She softens watching us, a blonde with a pixie cut who’s covered in artwork head to toe.
“Then… then I want one too. Maybe a small cross on the inside of my wrist.” I hold out my arm turned up for his appraisal. Logan bends forward to press a kiss on the spot I’m thinking of.
“Seems like a good place to put it. But remember it might hurt a little.”
I’m so lovestruck I can’t even visualize a concept like pain. We finally head the rest of the way into the parlor to introduce ourselves to the blonde and explain what we were thinking. Logan wants his cross tattooed on his chest, placed right in the center where it’ll be impossible to miss.
The blonde nods along. “Definitely can do that. And you? What were you thinking, doll?”
“My wrist. Just maybe a small one.”
“Doable.”
“Am I allowed to get one if I’m pregnant?”
“Generally safe, especially one as small as you’re getting. Sit down in my chairs. Name’s Cassandra, by the way. Cass for short.”
Logan goes first. I’m more nervous than he is as he unbuttons his shirt and plops down in the leather chair. The needle buzzes as Cass draws the piece of art on his chest.
It’s true that I’ve never imagined I would ever get a tattoo. Mama and Grandma Renae would probably cry if they ever found out. They feel tattoos are trashy and unnecessary. But I’ve learned more and more over the past couple months that while I’ll always love them, I’m my own person. I’m my own woman, and I need to create the life I want for myself.
There’s so much to experience, and I intend on doing that by Logan’s side, including small side quests like tonight.
Getting my first tattoo.
When it’s my turn, I release a nervous breath and replace Logan in the chair. The stinging pain is barely noticeable as he holds my hand and we kiss. From start to finish, the session lasts under two hours.
We exit high on life, hand in hand again, sharing adoring looks.
The fresh ink gleams on the inside of my wrist, clear film sealed over it for healing.
“Happy?” Logan asks, squeezing my palm in his.
I smile brightly. “You have no idea.”
Logan’s mouth is on me from the moment we walk through the door. His large, wide palms slip over my hips, and he comes up from behind to press his lips against my throat. The feel of his kiss, warm and tender, on the sensitive patch of skin makes me shudder.
I go still in his hold and sink into the instant chemical pleasure that washes over me.
“Logan…” I mewl.
“Baby, I want you so fucking bad,” he rasps, kissing me all over. His mouth travels up, then down the side of my throat. His long fingers clench tighter on my hips, and he braces himself against me from behind, guiding me through the deep shadows of the apartment.
We maneuver the dark space this way, Logan kissing my neck, groping my hips, steering me from behind like an avatar.
Halfway down the hall, I turn in his hold and rise on tiptoe to meet his hungry lips. My hands roam his stubbly cheeks as I grab his face and kiss him just as enthusiastically. Just as urgently, breathlessly, letting him know how badly I need him too.
Every part of him intertwining with every part of me.
He takes my fervor, using it to light his own even more. Using my passion to fuel his to untold levels.
He’s a fire that can’t be put out. That intends on razing me down with him.
