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She lifted the liner machine from his hand. “All hand crafted and the engravings match your tat. My God, Jay, they must have cost…I don’t even want to know.” She glanced up, eyes clear and bright. “I don’t know what to say.”

The wonder in her voice filled him with pride. He stole a kiss from her curved lips. “Say ‘thank you’.”

She set the machines on the cushion beside her and stared at them, lashes fluttering rapidly. In the next thump of his heart, she tackled him, hands in his hair, mouth crushing his. She smothered kisses over his face, sparking every happy receptor in his body, and rested her forehead against his. “Thank you.”

“It’s full on double rainbow time.” Wil reached into one of the boxes behind Jay and pulled out several bottles of ink.

The boxes should’ve held every color available, along with needles, tubes, stencil stuff, and anything else the supplier thought she might or might not want.

Wil dropped the bottles in the box and scooped up her sketchbook. “Hell yeah. We’re so doing this tattoodle.”

His bassist might’ve been hippie, but a rainbow tattoo? “Seriously?”

She grabbed the book. “It’s not for Wil. Since inking Laz’s dick is a sensitive subject—”

“It’s not a subject, because it’s not happening.”

“—Wil settled on an alternative tat.” She tapped the cartoon rainbow.

Jay cocked one eyebrow and glared at Wil. “The issue isn’t the design. It’s the placement.”

“Lose the bitchbrow, man.” Wil returned one of his own. “Laz is getting a tramp stamp.”

Nice. Jay could live with that, though he wasn’t sure Laz could.

Wil cupped his hands around his mouth and angled toward the patio. “Laz! Get in here!”

Two hours later, Jay forced himself to recline in the chair across the room in a guise of cool collection. His jealousy would’ve shattered the morale Charlee had so effectively lifted.

Laz lay face down on the couch, arms bent above his head, expression a picture of tranquility. She knelt beside him, hands low on his bare back, tattoo machine vibrating the air.

His bandmates and some of the security staff had gathered to watch, and a heady buzz bounced around them. Even Nathan hovered, a smile floating on his face.

As Laz’s rainbow-shaped embarrassment arced from the rise of one ass cheek to the other, the tiny movements of her machine held the room captivated. Humming her out-of-tune melodies, she brushed the needle over the cartoon of colors with a vivacity that put everyone in a lively mood.

His shoulder blades tingled. He wished it was him on the stabbing end, but when she’d snagged his gaze before she began, the silent question arching her brow, he shook his head. He hadn’t wanted to quash the excitement whirring between his friends. And when the time came to complete his tattoo, it would be an intimate session. Momentous. Just like the night he met her.

A groan drifted from the couch.

Jay’s graciousness slipped, his face heating. “Laz, if you’re trapping a hard-on under there, so help me God, I will break it off. With a sledgehammer.”

He groaned again. Louder. “Cool story, bro.”

“Wow. I missed this. I haven’t inked in a week.” She winked at Jay. “It’s been a very long week.”

Her wink spiraled through his chest and stole his breath. There she was. His girl was back with light flickering in her eyes. As relief settled over him, he relaxed in the chair and watched her work. Her scrunched nose, brow pinched in concentration, and the tune drifting from her throat hurtled him back to Kilroy Tattoo. He’d changed his life that night to earn a future with her. It was time to confront the past so he could hold onto that future.

A shiver passed through him. It had been his lot to suffer an abusive childhood, but he would make damn sure her lot didn’t include another second in chains. He’d accept a death penalty if that was what it took to eliminate Roy.

He wanted her safe and happy. More than he wanted freedom, or music, or breath.

72

Charlee focused on the tattoo equipment in her hands, scrubbing the shiny steel until it shone and tucking it into a box. If she glanced up, she knew she’d be ensnared once again by the heat of Jay’s gaze. She was also certain that one more shared look and her devotion to equipment care would be deserted for sex.

Hard, rough, painful sex. The promise radiated from his stiff posture. Oh, he had one leg draped over the arm of the chair, the other stretched out in front of him to accommodate a full-body slouch.

He wasn’t fooling her. Aggressive arousal emanated from him in the unmoving way he watched her, the slack of his parted lips, the minute press of his fingertips in the armrest, and the tell-tale stretch of his fly. Her fingers itched to slip out that top button and free him.