Page 54 of Take the Blame (Seaside Mergers #3)

“That wasn’t permanent, Harper. That wasn’t you .

I don’t want to mess up something that’s going to be on you forever.

It’s bad enough that you’re tattooing my drawing on you after only thinking about it for a day!

” I said, the room getting hotter as my nerves racked up.

“I don’t want to be responsible for marking you so permanently. ”

“Too late for that,” he murmured. “You’re already pretty permanent on me, Boss. Might as well make it known.”

“Harper.”

“Alta.”

“I might mess it up.”

A gentle hand cradled the back of my head, running down the length of my neck and giving it an encouraging squeeze.

Warm breath dusted over my cheek as he leaned forward holding the tattoo machine steady in both our hands.

We were tattooing his right leg directly above his knee.

There was nothing else on that leg, which just made me all the more nervous that my shabby excuse for a drawing would be the only thing he displayed there.

Again he repeated. “You can do this. I cleaned everything, I prepped everything safely, and I’m holding the machine with you. There’s no way you can really hurt me and no way you can mess this up.”

Meaning, art, memory. That’s what he said his tattoos were for. But what could this one possibly be to him?

“Why are you even trusting me with this?” I asked. “Why are you putting my drawing on you forever?”

“Well, it’s your interpretation of me, right?” he asked. I hummed and something in his chest rumbled as he did the same. “It’s a gift then. To be able to personify the way you see me. It’s special to me, being able to see myself through your eyes. I want to remember it.”

Meaning, art, memory .

Was he saying it was a little bit of all three? The thought sent a jolt of contentment through me, the rightness I always came back to with Harper settling like a blanket over my worries. “It’ll be a gift?”

“The best gift,” he clarified.

I swallowed. “Okay… Alright. I can do that. I can give you a gift.”

“There’s my girl, now come on. Grab it like I taught you.” He started.

And just like always, his belief in me bolstered me up.

We worked on the lines of his tattoo together.

Me sitting between his legs as he propped the one we were working on up.

His hand firmly wrapped over mine as we both held the machine together.

He guided more on some parts and let me lead myself on others.

All while murmuring instructions as our heads bent low together.

We were both gloved, but it felt like our hands were joined by electricity as we worked.

And I don’t know why this felt so intimate but my heart pounded continuously the entire time.

Warmth filled his low voice as he said, “Almost done. Last few lines, you’re doing great.”

I looked at him with an open heart. Opening wide enough that I’m pretty sure he just fell right in. Right then and there.

“Ah,” he hissed mildly, whispering. “Focus, baby.”

And now we were whispering. I whispered too. “ Lo siento, amor .”

He stopped.

I mean, I stopped too. But the fact he stopped meant something scary. Holding my breath I calmly waited for him to respond.

“ Amor ?” he asked in the same way he asked about other Spanish words. I wouldn’t tell him. I couldn’t tell him that I had just called him “love” so casually. But the ground might as well have just opened up and swallowed me then, because the next thing he murmured was, “I think I know that one.”

Nope, I couldn’t breathe .

Fast, fast, too fast I felt this all crumbling down. I was scared to death that I was going to freak him out and push him away and I wasn’t ready for this to end. Not when he was saying things like I was something permanent or encouraging me to do anything I wanted to do.

No, no, no I was not ready for this to end when I was just starting to— “Harper I’m so sorry, it just slipped out and?—”

“Look at me.” It was a command, authoritative and sure.

I did. And what I saw was everything. Warmth, understanding, grace…

more. All wrapped up into the eyes that inspired the very tattoo we were working on together.

And without hesitation, he leaned forward and kissed me, taking my lips in a slow sweet embrace that sent my nerves firing like rockets all over.

He swiped his soft tongue in for only a few moments.

Still, I felt my pulse hammering in my throat, my entire body aching with a need that was not only sexual but felt necessary for breathing as he looked at me.

“Never apologize for that, okay?” he said, not demanding an explanation or an answer. He just smirked, but underneath I could see there was a genuine smile there, too. “And let it slip whenever you want.”

Huh ?

He kissed my shoulder, a move I was coming to love no matter when it was delivered, and we continued working on the tattoo. All the while I reeled over what the heck he could mean by that.

“All done, Boss,” he announced after a couple more minutes. “What do you think?”

Leaning back against his chest I took in the design we’d drawn.

From this angle it was upside down but I could still see that it was beautiful.

Harper had really put his touch on my rough design.

And surprisingly, it came out pretty decent, although the few lines that he let me take full control of were a little off.

He promised he could fix those, so I tried not to fixate, but looking at it I couldn’t seem to ignore my uncertain lines next to his steady persistent ones.

It was too much like the two of us. Me unsure and flailing through life while he was so put together and certain of himself. Yet altogether we made a beautiful picture, differences and all.

The stupid bear shouldn’t have choked me up, yet I found myself swallowing thickly and masking emotion with a watery laugh. “It’s kind of wiggly.”

“Wiggly bear,” he said. “I love it. Thank you.”

Thank you .

He was thanking me? After he was the one to encourage me at every turn? After he was the one taking control of this thing and guiding us higher, farther, deeper than I imagined we’d ever go.

I should be the one thanking him, but the prospect of explaining to him how he made me feel brought this overwhelming pressure to my chest, stopping me cold.

Looking at him now, with my drawing on his skin and so many beautiful words coming out his mouth, yeah, my chest hurt.

It hurt real, real bad.