Page 8 of Love at First Ink

“Do you want to keep it black, or do you want to add color?” Lyana asked. “Honestly, if you ask me, I would keep it black. I think it’ll look better.”

Marisol had to agree. She didn’t care much for colored tattoos. On other people, they were gorgeous, but she didn’t want that style for herself.

“Cool, then sit here, and I’ll tell C you’re ready. He’ll come and get you soon.” Lyana took the book from her and disappeared around the corner. She heard muffled voices, one clearly masculine, but couldn’t make out the words. She sat and waited, her leg bouncing up and down in a nervous habit, and soon pulled out her phone to read her book.

Lyana came back out just as another client came in asking about piercing. She eavesdropped on their conversation before she heard someone walk into the lobby. “Marisol?” a deep and sexy voice called out.

Marisol’s head swiveled in time to see a familiar-looking man. He wore all black, matching the gothic aesthetic of his shop. His jeans were form-fitting, as if they wereperfectly tailored for his body. Marisol knew good tailoring when she saw it, and those jeans were definitely fitted just for him.

His black t-shirt looked simple, but she bet if she touched it, she would feel luxury material. He also wore a black watch that probably cost as much as some of her most prized jewelry. Which was…a lot. He was subtle with his wealth though. To an untrained eye, he’d appear as just a regular guy who shops where he buys food.

Marisol was staring, and she tried to gaslight herself into thinking it wasn’t because he was the sexiest man she had ever seen, arms and neck full of tattoos. No, she was staring because he looked so familiar. Like she saw him recently. Like…

The man in the waiting room. At therapy.

“We go to the same therapist,” she blurted out because, apparently, years and years of trained conversations didn’t exist when she set foot in a tattoo shop.

The man tilted his head, cocking a brow up. His deep brown eyes questioned her, but she saw the moment realization hit. His full lips twitched up in a smile, flashing the whitest teeth she had ever seen.

“What a small world,” he said in a way that neither confirmed nor denied he remembered her. It wasn’t like they had a conversation. Their eyes met briefly, and then she left as he was entering his session with Alice.

“If you’re ready, I’ll take you back.” He gestured to the hallway behind him, presumably where his station was set up.

Marisol nodded and grabbed her purse before following the man back. He was tall with much longer legs, so Marisol had to fast-walk—in heels—to keep up with him. Luckily, she was professionally trained in the art of heel-wearing and could keep pace without faltering.

“I’m Cisco, by the way.” He stopped at an open door, gesturing for her to go first.

“Marisol,” she said and tentatively walked in. The room was painted a dark emerald green with art adorning almost all the wall space. There was a leather chair with a foot rest, obviously meant for the client, and a stool with wheels next to it. A tray of small glasses and what she assumed was the tattoo gun sat next to it.

Oh shit, this was happening.

Her heart pounded as she sat down, resisting the urge to bounce her leg. Instead, she distracted herself by fidgeting with her hair—a nervous habit. Cisco must have noticed her anxiety because he gave her an encouraging smile, which eased her tension, but only slightly.

“This is your first tattoo?” he asked, getting supplies from the various drawers he had in the room.

“Yeah.” And probably last, but she couldn’t say that for certain.

“Do you have an idea of where you want it?” Cisco grabbed the last of his supplies, dropping them onto the tray before taking a seat on the small rolling stool.

Marisol nodded and shifted her weight to her left side while rolling up her already short jeans shorts to her hip. “I want it here.” She gestured to her thigh. “But not so big it takes up the whole area. I want to still be able to cover it up.”

He nodded and finished putting on his black gloves. He reached out to touch her thigh, and the moment the vinyl gloves touched her skin, she jumped. Cisco immediately pulled his hand away.

Marisol felt her cheeks flush, embarrassed at her reaction. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

Cisco didn’t move at first, watching her closely.Whatever assessment he was doing on her, she clearly passed because, in the next instant, he reached out for her again, brushing her thigh with a feathery light touch.

“Are you thinking you want it here?” He mapped out an area on her upper thigh. It was big enough that it wouldn’t compromise the small details of the piece, but small enough it wouldn’t encompass her entire thigh.

When she nodded, Cisco removed his hand from her thigh, leaving her feeling unexpectedly empty. He turned to his work station behind him, grabbing the outline of her tattoo. “Can you stand up for me?” he asked right before crouching down, looking far more scandalous than it actually was. Her thigh was almost eye level when he started placing the tattoo.

After a few moments of deliberation, Cisco pulled back and looked it over. “What do you think about that placement?”

Marisol knew shit about placement, but she couldn’t think of a problem with it. “I like it.”

He smiled at her, and something in her chest fluttered. Suddenly, she was acutely aware at how close and personal he’d be while tattooing her. She silently thanked herself for scheduling a waxing appointment not too long ago so her entire body was smooth.

“What is your pain tolerance like?” Cisco started to clean the area where the stencil would be placed. It was cold to the touch but not unpleasant.

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