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No one has ever described my hair as something mystical. My throat constricts, and I can’t find the words to reply.
He kisses me quickly. “Come on. Let’s get lunch.”
“Wait!” I plant my feet on the sidewalk. “First, show me your tattoo.”
His smile widens, as if he’s been dying for me to ask. “Are you saying you want me to take off my shirt, princess?”
“Unless you know another way. I don’t have x-ray vision.” I cross my arms and arch a brow.
He laughs and clasps my hand, steering me to the passenger side of the Jeep. “Let’s get in first. I don’t want to be accused of flashing your neighbors.”
Once the doors close, locking us inside, Jordan pulls his shirt over his head, exposing the intricate black lines and fiery wings of the phoenix caught in mid-flight, tattooed conspicuously close to his heart.
“Jordan.” My mouth goes bone dry as I process the very real possibility that he has a permanent reminder of me tattooed on his body. “Did you . . . ?” The words turn to dust on my tongue.
He slides a hand into my hair and pulls me across the gearshift for a passionate kiss. I suddenly want everything with this man. Starting with . . .
“I want a tattoo!” The words come out before I can stop them.
His head snaps up and his eyes widen. “You do?”
I’m not brave enough to choose something so obviously inspired by Jordan, but he’s unquestionably inspired me. “Will you take me?”
He kisses me again, releasing me far too soon for my taste. After staring at his pierced nipple for longer than what would be considered polite, my eyes are drawn to his taut abdomen. It should be illegal for anyone to be so devastatingly gorgeous.
He catches me staring and grins before dragging his shirt over his head and putting the Jeep in gear. “If we hurry, he might be able to squeeze you in today.”
We pull into the strip mall housing Café Ink and park a few spaces down from the door.
Jordan shifts in his seat. “Are you sure about this?”
I bite my lip, suddenly rethinking my hasty decision.
He locks his gaze on mine. “Tattoos are permanent. It won’t wash off after a few weeks.”
“It’s a dumb idea. But . . .” My pulse quickens and my face splits into a wide grin. “Let’s do it anyway.”
His face lights up, and he all but carries me the rest of the way to the tattoo shop.
We barely step through the door when a burly, middle-aged man with a straggly gray beard bellows a greeting from behind the front counter. He puts down his clunky cell phone and steps around the display case. “Forget something?”
“Actually . . .” Jordan throws an arm over my shoulder, pulling me to his side. “I want to introduce you to my girl, Kennedy. Kennedy, this is my uncle Manny—Jenny’s husband.”
“This must be the reason you’re never home anymore.” Manny barks out another laugh and extends a hand toward me. “It’s good to finally meet you, Kennedy.”
Jordan holds my gaze. “Kennedy was just admiring your latest work and decided she wants one of her own. Got time for another tat?”
“The lady wants ink?” Manny nods as he checks his watch. “I have about an hour before my next appointment. You know what you want, Kennedy?”
My mouth falls open as his question catches me off guard.
Once upon a time, I had several ideas for possible tattoos, but my life has turned so completely upside down since then. In the past two months alone, my views surrounding my own virginity have run the gamut between saving it for marriage to plotting a ceremonial deflowering to getting it over with. And sometime during the past week, my perspective shifted yet again. My tattoo should reflect the choices I’ve made and those I’ve yet to make.
And just like that, I make up my mind.
“I do.”
A little over an hour later, Manny hands me his card and a small tube of ointment. “Follow the instructions to the letter. If you have any questions, you’ve got my number. Don’t be afraid to call it.”
