All the Pretty Lies (14 page)

I don’t know how much time has passed. I
don’t know how many times I’ve played the song over in my head. I
don’t know how long I’ve been thinking about Hemi, letting my
thoughts drift in oceans of dreams and fantasies, all revolving
around what I had hoped we’d share, what I had hoped we could be,
but it seems like forever.

I have to admit to myself that I had hoped
for more than just sex. I had hoped I could experience love at
least once in my life. But with every passing day, I wonder if
that’s possible. Time passes so fast, so unexpectedly. My mother
thought she had forever. But she didn’t.

My eyelids flutter open and I realize my head
has fallen back on my shoulders too far, farther than where Ms.
Shuler had positioned me. I raise it, my eyes searching for the
covered glass square that served as my landmark. But rather than
seeing the blank wooden panel with black felt over the window, I
see Hemi. Standing at the door across from me. Watching me.

My pulse flutters and my stomach flips over
with some mixture of embarrassment, curiosity and excitement. I
feel my breathing pick up, but I slow it on purpose, determined not
to react in any perceptible manner. I don’t look away and I don’t
close my eyes. I keep my head steady and my gaze trained on
his.

His eyes are intense. They aren’t happy or
angry, just intense. I can tell by the color that he’s not in a
light, teasing mood. They…shine almost when he’s feeling playful.
They’re a brighter blue. But not tonight. Tonight, they’re the
color of deep, deep water, water that’s still on the surface and
churning underneath.

Purposely, as though he’s daring me to try
and stop him, he lets his eyes fall over my nude form. I feel warm
as they rake their way down my throat, over the apple, to my
breasts. They linger there. I don’t think I’d have to see them stop
to know that’s where he’s looking. If he were breathing, exhaling
on my nipples, I don’t think it would feel any more real than what
I feel right now. His gaze is a touch. Not a physical touch, but a
touch just the same.

Finally, when my nipples are heavy with an
ache that can’t be soothed, Hemi moves on. His eyes slide down my
ribs, caress my stomach and tease my thighs. He narrows them on the
place shielded by the way my leg is bent, but I feel his touch
there, too, nonetheless.

Warmth floods me. I begin to flush and become
short of breath despite my determination not to. I close my eyes,
close them against what he’s doing to me. What he’s doing to me
from all the way across the room. In front of a crowd of onlookers.
I try to regain the calm I felt earlier, but it eludes me. I return
to the song that was stuck in my head, but now it only worsens the
effects of Hemi’s perusal.

Against my better judgment, because I can’t
seem to help myself, I open my eyes again. This time, he’s gone.
The doorway is empty.

I wonder for a few seconds if I simply
imagined him there, but movement to my left catches my eye. For one
instant, I turn my head. Hemi is skirting the room as, I assume, he
heads over to speak to my instructor. Surely that’s how he got in
tonight. This isn’t exactly a public event.

Quickly, before anyone can notice and before
Hemi can catch me watching him, I return to my position. But
whatever happens from here on, my peace is gone. My calm is
over.

Hemi’s seen me naked.

And I loved every second of it.

CHAPTER TWENTY- Hemi

Damn it! Dammit, dammit, dammit!

I’m just as furious now, three hours later,
as I was when I walked into that room and saw Sloane, lying naked,
stretched out on a table. I should never have gone. I should’ve
stayed the hell away from her. I got the information I needed.
There was no reason to keep up this ruse, much less put things back
on a personal level. But that’s exactly what I did.

All I could think about Thursday night after
she left was what she’d be doing tonight. And all day today, all I
could think about was her taking off her clothes and striking some
pose for a bunch of salivating college assholes to sketch. But I
didn’t have to go see for myself. Why the hell did I do that?

And now…now I can’t get the image of her out
of my mind. If I’d thought the lure of her sweet, sexy innocence
was tempting before…

I slam shut the drawer in my table and glance
up at the clock again. She should’ve been here by now.

“What the hell’s your problem?” Sasha asks
from where she’s sitting on the other side of the room, inking some
guy’s meaty arm.

“Mind your own business,” I snap back, not
caring the least bit that she looks wounded. I’m not answering
anybody’s questions. There’s no way I’m admitting that I’m waiting
for Sloane, that I told her professor to have her stop by the shop
tonight because I needed to discuss this preceptorship with her.
No, I’d never admit to that. Or to the crazed way I feel right now
because she hasn’t shown up.

No, I’d never admit that to anyone. Not even
to myself.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE- Sloane

At first, I refused to do as Hemi had
requested. I told myself that I was
not
coming to the shop
tonight. Period. I’m
not
required to be at his beck and
call. Besides that, I was humiliated just
thinking
of facing
him again after what happened. But then I realized it would look
much worse if I
didn’t
come. So here I am, waiting for
everyone else to clear out of the shop so that there are no
witnesses to whatever embarrassing conversation I’m about to
have.

Sasha is the last one out. Of course. I see
the front door open and she emerges. Alone. Hemi is nowhere in
sight. That gives me comfort and satisfaction for some reason. He
didn’t walk her to the door. That must mean he wasn’t hanging on
her every word and look. At least that’s what I tell myself it
means.

I watch her get into her bright red little
convertible and pull away from the curb. I resist the urge to throw
up in my mouth.
Ack!
I don’t even like that woman’s
car!

I watch until her tail lights disappear over
the crest of the hill and only then do I get out of my own car. I
stand and straighten my skirt, taking a deep breath as I cross the
street. It’s as I’m nearing the curb that I see Hemi come to the
door. I guess he’s locking up for the night.

I stop when he looks up, my eyes meeting his
through the smoked glass door. His hand pauses in midair, hovering
over the lock. He doesn’t move for a few seconds. It makes me
wonder if he’s debating whether to talk to me or just ignore me.
When he moves his hand away from the lock, I know what he’s
decided. Leaning forward, he pushes open the door and waits for me
to enter. So I do. Neither of us says a word as he closes and locks
it behind me.

Not knowing what kind of confrontation lies
ahead, I stand, chin up and chest out, and wait for him to say
whatever it is he needs to say. But he doesn’t speak. Instead, he
walks around the counter and through the doorway that leads into
the back room.

I wait a few seconds before I follow, finding
him standing at the chair he uses to tattoo. It’s extended and
flattened into a table, no doubt for him to clean it.

Hemi is leaning forward, his fingers curled
into tight fists and planted on the padded, vinyl surface. Although
his head is down, I don’t need to see his face to know that he’s
mad about something. I can see it in every rigid line of his
body.

I approach slowly, the heels of my sandals
making a delicate tap on the tile floor. The air is cool on my bare
arms and legs, and I shiver as I stop a few feet away. “What did
you want to talk to me about, Hemi?”

He doesn’t move or speak. I can see the veins
standing out along his forearms, and his triceps are bunched. I’d
had reservations about coming
at all.
Now, I’m thinking I
should’ve listened to my gut.

“If you’re not going to speak to me then I’ll
just go.”

I start to move backward when he looks up at
me, pinning me with his angry stare. “Don’t you dare,” he growls.
He pushes himself upright and takes two long strides that bring him
to me. Right to me, his chest within an inch of mine. “You’re gonna
tell me what the hell you were thinking with that stunt?”

“What stunt?” I ask, taken aback.

“Taking your clothes off and lying naked, on
a table, in front of a bunch of slobbering idiots.”

“That wasn’t a
stunt.
I did that for
school. I got—”

“The hell you did! You did that to get back
at me.” His teeth are clenched so tight I can almost hear them
grinding.

“Get back at you? For what? That’s
ridiculous.”

“You wanted to show me what I can’t have,
what I’m missing out on? Well, you showed me all right.”

“Hemi, that makes no sense. What are you
talking
about?”

“I’ve done everything within my power to stay
away from you. To keep it professional. To keep my hands off you.
And then you go and do this.”

I see red. “You are an egotistical asshole!
This had nothing to do with you. It had everything to do with
me.
I didn’t get naked and show my body to everyone in that
room to show
you
anything. I did it to prove to myself that
I
could.
That I
would.”

“And did you like it? Knowing that all those
eyes were on you? That everyone in that room, male
and
female, would slit a man’s throat for one little taste of you?”

“That’s insane! No one in that room was
looking at me that way.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong,” he spits
furiously. “You have no idea what you looked like up there. With
your hair put up and a few curls dangling down on your shoulder.”
Reaching out, Hemi fingers the strands that still rest there. “Your
lips so red and kissable.” His eyes rise to my mouth. I have the
sudden urge to moisten my lips. “And your breasts, so round and
firm. Oh, God!” he groans, “I’ve never wanted to touch somebody so
bad in all my life. Not one person. Ever. My tongue tingled just
thinking about sucking one of those pink little nipples into my
mouth. And when you looked up at me, I could see it in your eyes.
You were wishing the same thing. You were wishing I was touching
you.” His voice is low and thick, hypnotic. It oozes over my skin
like molasses. “Tell me you were wishing I was touching you.”

He’s weaving a web of desire around me, his
words like strands of the strongest silk, holding me captive. I’m
trapped by them, ensnared by
him
until he either lets me go
or makes me his.

Before I can think better of it, I give him
honesty. “I was. I could barely breathe when you were looking at
me,” I admit breathlessly.

“I know I’ll hate myself for this tomorrow,
but I have to have a taste of you, Sloane. I can’t deny myself for
one more minute. Let me show you what I was thinking when I saw you
lying up there. Let me show you what it feels like when a man stops
fighting.” His words drift away as his face draws closer to mine. I
feel his breath, warm and moist, on my lips. “Let me show you what
it feels like when your wish comes true.”

And then his lips touch mine. From the first
touch, I get the feeling he wants to devour me. They’re firm and
insistent. His tongue is demanding when it licks across my mouth,
determined to slip inside. I welcome it. I welcome
him.

It tangles wetly with mine, and I wonder at
the flavor of him. It’s even better than I thought it would be.

He pulls my bottom lip into his mouth and
sucks gently on it as his fingers find the straps of my sundress
and slide underneath. He trails his hands down my arms, dragging
the straps with them, peeling the dress from my body. I feel the
cool air hit my stomach when the material falls to the ground.

His lips still on mine, Hemi skims his hands
down my back. When he reaches my hips, I feel him moan into my
mouth. He pulls his head back.

“What’s wrong?” I pant, looking up into his
handsome face.

“You’re not wearing anything else.”

I shrug. “What was the point?”

As though my simple clothing somehow further
fuels his passion, Hemi growls when he crushes my lips beneath his,
lifting me off my feet and turning to set me on the end of the
tattoo table.

Never taking his mouth from mine, I hear the
whir of the small motor as Hemi raises the surface. When it stops,
he is able to slip his hips easily between my legs. The perfect
height, the perfect position.

He speaks against my lips, his hands roaming
over the skin of my arms and waist. “Every second that I spent
inking this beautiful skin, I wanted to put my lips on it.”

Hemi kisses a path across my jaw and down my
neck, pressing me backward as he reaches my shoulder. I brace
myself on my palms, flattened on the table behind me.

“With every butterfly I created, I’d get
closer and closer to these,” he says, gently cupping my breasts,
“and I’d think to myself that I couldn’t do it one more time. Not
one more, or I’d explode.” Hemi brushes his palms over my nipples.
They tingle painfully, my breasts heavy with need. “I don’t know
how many times I’ve dreamed of putting them in my mouth,” he says,
his lips snaking their way toward the peaks. “Of feeling you shiver
when I do.”

Hemi’s hot mouth closes over my nipple and I
gasp, the sensation overwhelming it feels so good. As if he made it
so, to happen exactly as he’d imagined, a shiver of pure pleasure
ripples through me. All I feel is heat—heat from his mouth, heat
from his hands, heat from his body where he’s standing between my
legs. Even the cool vinyl beneath me feels warm.

“Mmmm,” he growls, the sound vibrating into
my nipple, “just like that.”

As he licks and sucks at one, Hemi toys with
the other, his fingers rolling and pinching it, squeezing and
tweaking it.