Afterlight - Elle Jasper [104]
It was something I’d been avoiding; it hadn’t been easy. The thing between us was palpable, dangerous, and I’d known it went deeper than sex the moment we’d met. He’d told me quite seriously that I was his. I’d told him the same, yet the subject hadn’t been approached again. What did mine actually mean? I lowered my hand and moved away. “I don’t know, Eli.”
Silence gripped the interior of Inksomnia for several moments before Eli surprised me with a request. “I want you to ink me.”
I looked at him, gauged him. “Tats are for life—and with yours that’s a long damn time.” I cocked my head. “Do you know what you want?”
Eli kept his gaze on mine. “Yes.” He lifted the medallion from his neck. “This. It’s our family crest.”
Bending my head over the medallion, I inspected the design and detailing. I’d not noticed it before, and I now found it fascinating. A griffin clutching a pair of daggers sat in the center of a fleur-de-lis, encased by a thorny vine. At the bottom, the name Dupré. I looked at him. “That’s pretty wicked.”
“Can you do it?” he asked.
I grinned, grasped him by the hand, and shoved him in the chair. “Sit.” I grabbed a pencil and sketch pad and within minutes had the entire design on paper—it was roughly the size of an orange. I showed it to Eli, and he nodded.
“Perfect,” he said.
I scanned the design, then printed out a transfer and walked back to Eli, whose gaze remained locked onto mine. “Where?” I asked.
“Between my shoulder blades,” he returned. “Black ink.”
My heart beat faster, and I nodded. “Off with the shirt, and let’s get going.”
Eli pulled his shirt over his head and turned onto his stomach on the inking table. I slowly wiped his skin with antiseptic and let it air dry, then laid the transfer print-side down, directly between his shoulder blades. I started the Widow, pulled on my gloves, loaded the ink, and bent over to Eli’s ear. “This might sting a little.” I settled into my chair.
He chuckled. “Yeah, okay.”
“No laughing,” I warned. I peeled the transfer off and began. Eli didn’t even flinch. “Nice,” I said, and concentrated on my design. I admit, it was a pretty cool design and would make a sick tat. With a steady hand I inked the Dupré crest over the muscular back of the eldest son. Tattooing Eli under such intimate conditions was beyond erotic—my breathing increased; my heart quickened. My breasts brushed his side as I bent over him, and even through gloves the contact of my skin against his aroused me. His scent radiated off of him in waves, and I drew it into my lungs, and that aroused me, too. It took about an hour and forty minutes to complete, and swear to God, I didn’t want it to end. Finally, it was finished, and it looked badass.
I handed Eli the hand mirror, and he turned and checked out my work. “Nice,” he said appreciatively, then turned to me. “You’re a superb artist.”
I shrugged. “Thanks,” I said, then took a deep breath and tried to push away the intense sexual feelings just being in the same room with Eli stirred within me. I busied myself cleaning up, then turned off the Widow. I crossed the room, and the whole time I felt Eli’s eyes on me.
“Why are you blowing me off?” he said, following me. Shirtless. “It’s not like you.”
I flipped the lights and walked to the stairs in the back. “You’re right, Eli. It’s not like me. But it’s what I feel is best for both of us.”
He grabbed me just as I reached the staircase. “You feel it’s best, or are you afraid of me? Disgusted by what I am?” He pulled me against him, and his hot glare struck me. “The truth, Riley.”
I glared back. “Let. Me. Go. I’m not arguing in the staircase.”
His hand dropped my arm like it’d been burned. “Let’s go, then.”
I knew I ventured in very dangerous territory by walking those stairs and trapping myself between my apartment walls with Eli Dupré again—especially since Gilles had warned me to keep away. But in the heat of the moment, and argument, it seemed the only thing to do. The tension between us over the past several days since Tybee had