Page 36 of Catch You

“But …” She looks up at me, hope filling her eyes, “I’d like to spend more time with you,” I admit, and really, it’s not hard to do so. This woman is pretty incredible. On the outside, she seems like one thing, but close that bedroom door and she’s someone else entirely. I can’t lie and say I don’t want to find out exactly what makes her tick.

“Not just in the bedroom?”

“Shall we do what we need to do here, then I’ll take you for dinner. How’s that sound?”

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth before she remembers something. “I might run before we get that far.”

I lean forward, both my hands running up her thighs, my fingers dipping under the hem of her dress and whisper, “It’s okay, I’ve locked the door.” I must admit that it comes out sounding a little more sinister than I was expecting, but when she shudders beneath my palms, it seems she took it as intended.

She nods, turning to her bag beside her.

I sit back as she pulls a battered piece of paper from inside and unfolds it. She stares at it for a moment before finding some courage and passing it over.

I love nothing more than doing a tattoo for someone that means something. Some of them are so personal that it’s like they’re exposing a piece of themselves to me just for that small amount of time, even if they’re too scared to do it to anyone else. And that’s exactly how I feel when I take hold of the paper.

I didn’t need to hear the conviction in her tone when she responded to my question about this being important to her earlier. I could sense it.

I hold her eyes for a second before ripping them away and down to her drawing.

It’s a dandelion with the seeds drifting off, nothing too out of the ordinary, but as I look closer, the seeds that are flying away have names in them.

Looking back up at her, I find tears pooling in her dark eyes.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to make you talk about it if you don’t want to. I’m not a therapist, although not all my clients are aware of that,” I add, thinking about the weird and wonderful things people have told me over the years.

“I’m sorry,” she says, looking to the other side of the room and lifting her hands to wipe her eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Reaching out, I gently press my fingers to her cheek and move her eyes back to mine.

“We don’t have to do this now if you don’t want. We could always plan it for a future date.” The fact that I’ve just offered to date this woman in a roundabout way isn’t lost on me, but it doesn’t panic me like I thought it might.

“No. I need to do this. I’ve run scared too many times. And … rightly or wrongly, I trust you.”

My chest constricts at her words, making my breath catch. I haven’t heard those words for years, and they take me back to a time that needs to stay locked in the box I’ve put it in.

Swallowing the lump she’s caused in my throat, I focus on the task at hand.

“Okay, so where are we doing this?”

“On my back, up my spine, with the seeds on my shoulder blades.”

“That’s probably going to hurt.”

“I know. I can handle it. Just promise me you’ll be gentle.”

My eyes bounce between hers. “Always.”

“So … what’s next?” she asks nervously.

“You’re going to need to show me some skin.” I wiggle my eyebrows as a wicked grin curls at my lips.

“Ah, I see. This is all a ploy to get me naked again.”

“It’s your fault. You could have asked for it on your leg.”

She stands before me, my knees still either side of hers. There are only inches between us, but it seems her inner goddess has found its way past the nerves.

Wrapping her fingers around the hem of her dress, she pulls it upwards.

---