Across the Music (Across the Ocean Book 2) (24 page)

"Everything okay?" I ask uncertainly, as his eyes continue to stare at me for a long moment longer. He nods, and then his face relaxes back into the easygoing expression he normally wears. He must have made his mind up about something.

"I know you said you just wanted to be friends, Sophie. I know you're worried about Loki and I and possible drama, I get it," he pauses, rubbing a hand over his face as though to collect his thoughts "but when I look at you, I see that unique and special person that I've been hoping to find. Everything in me tells me to grab on and hold on tight. I want to get to know you – all of you."

"Gunnar, I – " he holds a hand up to interrupt me.

"Just let me get this out. I told myself I would wait, but you sitting here in front of me looking as beautiful as you do, I can't stop myself. You can do whatever you want with what I say when I'm done, but just let me get it out in the open please." I nod, biting my lip. Even though I told him I wanted to be friends, I definitely didn't mean that I didn't have feelings for him that have been growing every day. I wanted to get to know him, too. Hearing him say these things weren't going to make my 'friends only' request something that would be easy to follow through with.

"When I saw you the first time – well, at the restaurant any ways, I had this feeling inside of me, this pull. It told me that you were different than all the rest. I want you around all of the time." He grabs my hand, smoothing his thumb along the back of it over and over as he tries to get the words out. Shivers traipse down my back, and my attention zooms to his thumb, watching it move over my skin. His words are gripping my heart, making it pump furiously in response as though to say 'I feel the same!'

"I don't know what I'm trying to say. I guess I just want to put it out there that if you ever change your mind about this friends only thing, that I'm here waiting for you. I don't want to make you feel pressured or anything, but I needed to get that off my chest." His blue eyes stare into mine, his emotions evident and strong. I've never had any man tell me anything so openly about what he was feeling, let alone feelings about me. I'm overwhelmed and speechless.

Gunnar seems to sense that I'm unsure how to respond, and he smiles softly as he stands up from his chair.

"It's time for me to head back to work. But Loki and I are playing a gig tomorrow night at a bar downtown. I was wondering if you'd be interested in coming to see us. Maybe if you're comfortable with the idea, you could even sing. No pressure." This brings me out of my shocked state, and I'm grateful for his change of subject. I nod enthusiastically and smile broadly at him.

"Wow, I'd absolutely love to go, thank you. Mostly just to watch you two though. What time is it?"

"It's at midnight. You can ride with Loki to the bar, since I'll not be coming home before the show. He'll be home a few hours before the show." He stands up, brushing crumbs off his lap.

"What does Loki do for a living anyways? I can't believe I've never asked before. I'm a terrible friend." Seriously, though.

"He's a tattoo artist downtown, one of the best actually." Gunnar takes a few steps towards the hallway.

"Wow, really? I might have to go check out his place. Will you send me a text message with the address of his parlor?"

"Sure. But before I go, one more thing?" I look up at him expectantly. He walks back towards me and leans down to me on my chair, grabbing my face gently between his two large, warm hands. The blood in my body all pounding noisily in my ears and veins.

"May I kiss you? Just once?" I nod weakly, my body zinging with sudden anticipation and surprise. He leans down even further; enough for his lips to hover mere inches from mine.

"I wish you were mine." he says softly to me before his lips settle petal soft on top of mine in a sweet moment that takes my breath away. My eyes flutter shut, and my body instinctively supplicates itself to him, moving closer for more pressure of his mouth on mine. I open my lips and he slides his tongue inside in a tantalizingly brief brush against mine before he pulls away as though afraid to cross an invisible line. He's gone and out of the room before I understand what's going on, and has slid his shoes and jacket on in no time. A moment later the flat opens and closes. I'm left alone with my shock and thoughts.

An hour and a half later, I'm in the taxi heading downtown. It's raining and gloomy, the clouds heavy and low in the sky, as though depressed. Large, fat drops have been falling for hours, and the cab is driving through large puddles that create miniature waves as the wheels fly through them.

Gunnar had sent me the information to Loki's tattoo parlor like he said he would, and shortly after he had left the flat, I had taken a shower and put on my clothes from the day before in order to visit Loki at work.

I've always wanted to get a tattoo, although I never had been completely sure about what or where I wanted it. I think so many people are just like me – wanting a tattoo simply for the novelty. Maybe Loki will have time to draw me something special.

I enter the tattoo parlor, hearing a little bell chime as I do to alert everybody that I've arrived. The walls are covered in beautiful artwork, as well as tattoo flash. My nerves have begun to jitter at the thought of getting a tattoo.

A quick glance around the large parlor, and I don't see Loki. The clock on the wall says it's three in the afternoon, and I had assumed he'd be here. Trying to keep my disappointment at bay, I step forward to the man standing at the large reception table. He glances up at me from the art he's creating on the paper at the table; his shaved head gleaming in the fluorescent lighting. A courteous smile flits across his lips, and he nods his head in greeting.

"
Get ég aðstoðað
?" He asks in a polite tone, even though I don't understand him.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak Icelandic. Is Loki perhaps in today?" I hope he's here, and I glance around the inside of the shop, several small rooms line a hallway in the back, and there are many station areas for artists out in the main area behind the counter. There are two artists working on their clients that I can see, and one person performing a nose piercing on a young woman. No Loki.

"
Já
, he will be back in a few minutes. He took a late lunch. You can have a seat on the couch behind you and wait for him. You don't already have an appointment, do you?" I turn partially to look behind me, noticing a long red couch against the front wall near several black binders filled with tattoo choices and portfolios for the artists.

"No," I mumble absentmindedly to the guy, "no appointment. I'll wait for him. Does he have another session scheduled when he comes back?" I hear papers rustling on the desk while I walk to the couch and sit down. I push several of the binders on the side table around until I find what I'm looking for; Loki's folder. I pull it out from under the others and place it in my lap, smoothing over the cover with my thumbs. The man at the front desk finds what he's looking for and holds a paper up in triumph.

"It says here that there was a reschedule on his next client, so he's available." My mouth is suddenly dry at this news, and apprehension fills me at the thought of getting a tattoo.

"Will you put my name down? Sophie McLachlan." The guy writes my name on the schedule for Loki, send a nod my way and returns to his work.

I take this opportunity to open Loki's portfolio and take a look at his previous work. Every paper has been inserted into plastic paper protectors in the binder; the edges are worn down and tattered from all the clients thumbing through it. The first picture displays a beautiful, vibrant shoulder tattoo with a large pink lotus flower, purple petals along the bottom where it rests upon water. Tiny orange and white clown fish swimming through anemone in the water under the bloom. Never have I seen such a realistic looking tattoo in my life; it appears as though he merely painted the artwork onto the arm. Water droplets cling to the pink petals of the flower, and the whole piece has the look of a watercolor painting.

I turn the page, cringing slightly at the well done but unappealing tattoo on the page. It looks as though he had taken a portrait of a person and turned her into a zombie in the tattoo. The details are incredibly vivid, and incredibly lifelike. Done in all black and white, the shading and lighting in his work show me that he knows very well what he's doing. I'm not a huge fan of zombies, but I can appreciate the work he's done.

After flipping through several other incredible pieces he's done; pretty scripts, some more portraits, unique creations that I bet came straight out of Loki's head, and one particularly good looking version of David Hasselhoff that someone had done on their leg, I am overwhelmed by excitement. My feet begin to tap with anticipation on the floor, and I can't wait for Loki to show up. Why didn't I call him earlier and let him know I was coming? I suppose I just wanted to surprise him by showing up unannounced. I didn't really think it too far through, but I'm not sad that I'm here.

I've started looking through other artist's portfolios to pass the time when I hear the ring of the bell on the front door. I look over eagerly and my heart leaps up into my stomach when I spot Loki entering the door. He doesn't notice me right away; he's caught up in a conversation on his phone and walking towards the front desk. Oh, look at that ass in those jeans.

There's always something about Loki that makes me feel the thrill of something naughty. While Gunnar is pure and sweet, Loki gives me the impression of his namesake; the God of mischief. Full of badassery, his body covered in his delicious tattoos just emanates bucking the system that is society. His multiple piercings don't detract from this image. Maybe his body tells the world to go fuck itself while he goes on being who he is. Sometimes I don't feel as though I really know who that person even is, since he doesn't talk a terribly huge amount. All I know is he is on my team, he makes me feel good and laugh often with the jokes he slides in to random conversations, and he knows how to give one hell of an orgasm. I can feel the blood rush to my cheeks with that last thought.

"Loki, you have a client waiting for you." The man behind the front desk says this to Loki in deliberate English when Loki finishes his phone call. Loki turns to see who the man is pointing at – me – and his face lights up like I haven't seen before. He quickly slides his phone into his pocket and comes towards me, arms outstretched for a hug. His eyebrows have popped clear up to his hairline, and the brilliant and dazzling smile on his lips makes me feel like the best person in the world. I stand up and walk the few steps until I'm in his arms; they wrap tightly around me in a hug, and his nose buries itself in my simple ponytail low at the back of my head.

"Sophie," he breathes into my hair, his soft voice warming my insides "What a surprise. It's so good to see you here, are you going to let me tattoo you?" He pulls his face back from me, his eyes moving over my face and body, taking in my appearance for the day. His fingers are gripping the sides of my forearms as though he's unwilling to let me go just yet.

Why can't I just allow myself to take both of these men to my bed and arms every night? Looking up into his blue eyes, I'm caught by a faint sense of vertigo; the world spinning around me. How would I ever be able to choose between them? Look at those luscious lips of his, that dimple in his chin that I still want to nibble on.

"Well?" he asks me with one eyebrow raised in humor. "Are you just going to stare at me? I'm flattered, so don't feel obligated to stop on my behalf. There are worse things you could have your eyes on." A girlish giggle escapes me, and I pull back from him in order to get my bearings again.

"Oh yeah mate. You're always a scrumptious sight for sore eyes, but I'm here in hopes that you'll draw me something special and permanently apply your artwork to my skin." The dark and glittering look in his eyes makes me involuntarily clench my thighs.

"What do you have in mind?" Loki says as he grabs my hand and leads me to a back room that is unoccupied. Once in the room, I take note of the table used for drawing the designs, and one lounging bench for the clients to sit upon while being tattooed that matches the couch in the reception area. There are several large paintings on the walls in ornate black frames, the style looking familiar.

"Did you paint these, Loki?" I ask in awe, gesturing to all the frames. He nods, rubbing a finger over his nose in apparent modesty and embarrassment.

I walk to one wall with three large paintings; one of which is of a strong and beautiful nude and golden woman with white-blonde hair blowing in the wind with her arms outstretched beside her, her purple and blue wings spread out magnificently as a fire composed of reds, yellows and oranges rages on behind her with deep blues and blacks composing the wild smoke from the fire. It's beautiful and quite powerful to look at. I even have boob envy for how perfect hers are. Another painting next to this one is much more simplistic, with only a single perfect rose surrounded by a black background and small trails of electricity or lighting. The shading and lighting work he did on this one makes my wonder if it is in fact a photograph or a painting; it's so realistic.

"Yeah, I did." He murmurs simply, pulling papers out of a drawer, and mechanical pencils as well as a large eraser; placing them on top of the drawing table. He turns back to me, a shy smile on his face. I'm unused to seeing him like this, and I feel as though being here with him in this room that is obviously his work space, that I am seeing into a part of him that perhaps most people don't. "What are you hoping to get today,
elskan
?" I can't help the smile that spreads across my own lips at this term of endearment, and I notice now that he closed the door behind us when we entered the room. Privacy. It takes quite an effort on my part to prevent my mind from traveling too far down the dirty and naughty path, but I manage to bring my thoughts back to a PG rating.