Unraveled (Love in Salem, book 2) (3 page)

Atayla nodded in understanding.  “Well, you know I’m not very impulsive.”

She decided that getting back into the lighter subject of tattoos was better than the emotional soup being served between them.

“I’ll probably think it to death before I even decide what to get.  Then I’ll think my decision to death before I either end up getting it or talking myself out of it.”

“Nope.”  Abby shook her head.  “You decide what you want, and I’ll hold you to it.  No way will I let you talk yourself out of it.  I think you will be surprised how addictive tattoos can become.  I bet you won’t be able to stop with just one.”

“God help us, can you imagine me with tattoos everywhere?  I have enough body surface to look like a circus freak!”

“Oh, please!  You’d look like a sexy little siren like always.  It doesn’t matter what you wear, you have one of those bodies that men drool over.  All curves, like a 50’s pinup model.”

Atayla threw her hands up, annoyed that her friend’s comment angered her, annoyed that she couldn’t believe it.

“Stop it, Abby.  That is not a compliment.  It’s just a polite way of saying I’m fat.  Now drop the subject and let’s get going before you are late.”

Atayla slung her purse over her shoulder and vowed to spend an extra hour at the gym each week.  Not that it would help.  Not even four years of near starvation and ten hours at the gym a week had been able to shed the flab from her chest and hips.  Yep, self-improvement was her goal.

Chapter Two

Atayla followed Abby into Skinz, the hottest tattoo parlor in Salem and the surrounding areas.  Never actually being inside the parlor before, she was surprised by how simple the set up was.  To the left was an empty bench seat with four empty seats arranged around it.  Straight ahead was the customer service counter. 

To the right was where all the action happened.  There were six L-shaped booths that spanned around three-fourths of the room.  The room itself was a large open area.  There were no walls separating the waiting area from the work area.

The place was remarkably clean and had a sterile smell to the air.  The smell reminded her of a dentist’s office.  Walking in, she was half afraid that it would smell like sweat and BO.  She was pleasantly surprised that she was wrong.

A heavily tattooed man, who she assumed was Eddie, walked up to Abby and greeted her.  Without any regard to Atayla, Abby trailed merrily behind him chattering away.  Atayla watched as she seated herself in the chair outside the first booth.  When the guy started cleansing her skin while laughing at something she said, Atayla started snooping around.

Certificates hung on the wall behind the counter.  Some were from the State Board of Health announcing its inspection approval.  Some were contest awards.  Several articles clipped from newspapers and magazines were framed and placed sporadically throughout the area.

There were also pictures tacked on a large bulletin board above the seating area.  Walking over to them, Atayla saw that they were pictures of tattoos done inside the shop.  The artists here were obviously proud of their accomplishments.  That went a long way in saying they were professional and darned good at what they did.

Atayla ambled up to the counter where six large photo albums sat.  Each one had a different name on the cover.  She opened the top one on the stack.  Knox was printed on the cover.

Ah, they were portfolios.  Literally hundreds of pictures of tattoos were stuffed inside the album.

There were six albums for six artists.  She decided to spend some time looking through each one, choose the one she thought did the best job, and when and if the time came she could set up an appointment with that person.

The bell over the door chimed.  Atayla looked over her shoulder and watched a burly man with a ZZ top beard and bandana walk in.   He was wearing a black leather biker jacket, chaps and boots. 

“Go ahead and have a seat Doug.  Pax had to run to his lawyer’s office to sign some papers.  He should be back anytime now.”  Eddie stated after peeking around his booth.

“No problem, Ed.  He got custody of the little tyke yet?”

“No.”  Ed snorted.  “For someone who has had to beg Paxton for extra money every damn week to feed his kid she sure didn’t have any problems retaining one of the best family lawyers in the area.  She makes accusations and buries him in paperwork and the court date gets pushed back because of it.”

“Yeah, she’s a real piece of work.”  A man hidden behind another booth piped in.  “She doesn’t even want Hayden, he cramps her style.  She just uses Hayden as a means to hurt Pax.”

The details of the situation sounded familiar to Atayla, but she supposed most custody cases were similar.  At least the ones she has been involved in were always similar. 

Not wanting to eaves drop further on their private conversation, Atayla turned her focus back on the portfolio in front of her.  Within a few minutes, the chimes over the door jangled again.

She couldn’t get a good look at the man without being totally obvious she was checking him out, but she assumed the man was Pax after he shook the man’s hand and led him back towards the second booth on the left.  No one even glanced her way, so she continued to look at the pictures.

After delving thoroughly through the album entitled Knox, she picked up the second one and the name on the cover made her heart stutter.  Aidan.  Not her Aidan, surely?  Well, he wasn’t technically hers, but he starred in all of her fantasies as of late!

What would she do if she came face to face with him again?  Knowing her, she would take off running.  No, Damn it!  Self-improvement, remember?  The question was: did she have what it takes to be the sexpot Abby always claimed of her?

Leafing through the pages of the portfolio, Atayla let her imagination run wild.  What she really wanted to do was trace her tongue over those tattoos on his arms.  Just to see if he tasted as good as he smelled.  Did he have any other tattoos? 

It would be a damn crying shame if he had one on his hip because she would have to lick that one too.  She imagined licking and nibbling her way across his groin to his erection.  She’s never actually gone down on a man before.  Randall became angry the first and only time she tried saying “nice” girls didn’t do that.

She imagined doing that to Aidan though.  Imagined teasing him, his pleas and moans, his hands fisting in her hair as he gave in to pleasure and took what he wanted from her mouth. She would grab onto his hips to steady herself as she also drowned in the pleasure between them.

Atayla wished she were home so she could relieve the now burning ache between her thighs.  Her panties were soaking wet and her poor clit throbbed in time with her pulse.  For three months, she had been suffering from this infliction.  Each and every time she thought of this man her libido went into overdrive.

Hopefully she could get control of herself before her juices soaked through the crotch of her jeans.  How embarrassing would it be for everyone to know that she was experiencing wet daydreams in public?  To make matters worse, her dreams were about a man she had only met once and made such an awful impression to.

Lost in her own ruminations, she was vaguely aware of two men approaching the counter.  There was a murmur of conversation, the chiming of the bell above the door, and then silence.  Just when she thought she was alone once again, a whiskey rough voice startled her back to the present.

“Can I help you with something?”

Aidan walked Mitch up to the counter to make his next appointment.  One more session and it should be finished.  He was particularly proud of this tat.  It took him almost an entire day to get the drawing exactly right.

He took pride in his work, even if it meant drawing the same memorial picture at least three dozen times before both he and his client were satisfied.  Mitchell’s daughter deserved nothing less.

Devastated after the loss of his young daughter to leukemia, Mitch came to him with nothing more than a picture and a story about a little girl who loved life.  Aidan then went to work and created a piece of art worthy of Caitlin’s memory.

In the tat, Caitlin was the imp her father wanted to remember.  Mischief sparkled in her pretty little eyes, and her toothy grin spoke volumes of the joy she felt throughout a day.  Normally he wouldn’t have created such a large tat for a memorial piece, but this little girl had been larger than life itself and the center of Mitch’s world.

Appointment scheduled, Mitch said his goodbyes and exited the shop.  Aidan walked back around the counter to the woman looking at the portfolios.

Blonde and buxom, she stood there with her hip propped against the counter leafing through one of the albums.  He couldn’t help but stop and admire the view.  He loved women that were all curves and sensuality.

As of recently he has had a thing for blonds as well, thanks to the mystery lady that had haunted his sleep the last few months.  This woman here resembled her almost perfectly.  In fact, she looked even better than his imagination.

After the rejection he received that night, he went home never mentioning the woman to his friends.  The next morning when he woke up he wondered if it had only been a dream.

A few sleepless nights went by with her stuck in his head.  When his friends and family noticed, he broke down and told them about the sexy little woman he ran into at the club.  Instead of laughing at him and his drunken foolishness, they were supportive.

They knew he was yearning for a woman with whom he may never meet again and still they clapped him on the back and wished him luck.  They even accompanied him back to The Den of Iniquity several times where he looked for her in the crowd hoping she would return.

Now here was her doppelganger standing in his shop.  If he couldn’t find the woman that haunted him, then maybe he could assuage his hunger on her look alike. 

He had a strict policy of not hitting on the customers.  A little flirtatious fun was one thing, but ultimately this was a place of business and he expected every employee to remain professional.  It was a damn shame too because he would certainly like to turn up the charm and try his hardest to convince her to give him a shot.

Leary of women after the whole Brittney fiasco, he pretty much kept to himself.  Working in the shop six days a week and playing in the band on Friday nights, his time had remained well occupied. 

It was when he went to bed at night that elusive memories of a blonde, luscious woman trapped beneath him kept his dick hard as steel all night long.  Trouble was he didn’t know if she was real or some elaborate punishment created by his drunken mind.

All he knew was that he started dreaming about her the night he got shit-faced drunk at The Den.  He went there to forget about a woman, but left with the image of a temptress burned into his brain.

Since the dreams started, no woman had ever been able to grab his attention.  No woman except the one standing before him.  Deciding that he had leered at her long enough, Aidan walked up behind her.

“Can I help you with something?”

The woman in front of him startled and fumbled with the portfolio.  Steadying the book, she placed it back on the counter. 

“No.” She said as she started to turn towards him.  “I’m just waiting on my friend, Abby.”

Bright summer green eyes collided with his, and he felt as though he had been punched in the gut.  The attraction between them could be felt like an electric current running through their bodies. 

She gasped in surprise, and he wanted to moan.  He knew that gasp.  He had heard that gasp a million times in his dreams.  Now he wanted to hear it a million more times in reality.

Aidan’s breath burst from his lungs. 

“You’re real. I thought you were a figment of my imagination.”  He whispered as he brought his palm up to cup her cheek.  He had to touch her, feel her, in order to know she was indeed here with him.

“Um…”  Not quite sure what to say, Atayla stood there speechless.  She had always assumed he wouldn’t remember her if she crossed paths with him again.  After all, she had learned at a very young age just how forgettable she was.

“God, you’re even more beautiful than I remembered.” Aidan stroked her cheek with his thumb.

“Um…”

“You don’t remember me do you?”  He sounded so despondent she had to reach out and soothingly touch his arm.

“Yes, I do remember you.  I’m just surprised is all, and a little embarrassed.” 

Aidan laughed at that.  He was the one who made a complete fool of himself, and she was the one who was embarrassed?

“Well if I remember correctly, which I probably don’t, I made an ass of myself and scared you half to death.  I should be the one who is embarrassed.”

Self-mockingly, Atayla stated.

“It’s the whole ‘scared half to death’ reaction that is so embarrassing.  But then again I’m not used to strange drunken men feeling me up in hallways either.  Sorry I was so rude to you.”