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“What can I do for you?” Just as I open my mouth to tell him I have no idea what I’m doing here, Kacey walks out of the back room. His eyes widen when he sees me standing there.
“Ash?” My heart almost beats out of my chest when his eyes meet mine and I take a deep breath, wondering why I thought this was a good idea. “What are you doing here?” he whispers, his hands fisting at his sides almost as if fighting not to touch me. God, what I wouldn't give to feel those hands on me again. I shake myself out of that fantasy, knowing the heartache that will inevitably happen, and focus.
“I want a tattoo?” My voice rises, my hands shaking as the smirk appears on the corners of his mouth.
“Are you sure?” he teases before I roll my eyes, glancing at the man I was talking to earlier and seeing a knowing look pass over his face.
“Fuck off,” I mutter, peering over at the boards of tattoos and panicking as to what I’m going to get.
“It was nice to meet you, Ashley,” Kacey's friend says, and it takes me a few seconds of watching him walk back into the office to wonder how he knew my full name.
“Do you know what you want?” Kacey asks, standing behind me, my breath catching as he settles my back against his chest, those deft fingers lightly gripping my hips, holding me in place. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and praying I can keep it together around him.
“I was thinking about a butterfly?” I question, hating how insecure I feel right now, but I am so out of my comfort zone. Kacey’s fingers trace along the sliver of skin that peeks between my t-shirt and jean shorts, leaving me breathless as my eyes try and focus on the tattoo board in front of us.
“Why a butterfly?” he whispers, his breath cascading down my neck, causing my knees to buckle and my head to fall back against his shoulder. It's not lost on me that this is the exact same position we were in all those years ago and once that memory pops into my head I snap out of it, clearing my throat as I step away from his hold.
“We can’t do this, not again,” I mutter, shaking my head as I make my way to the front door. But before I can make my escape, he's there, his fingers wrapping around my wrist.
“Ash, please. I’m sorry, I promise nothing else will happen unless you want it to, okay? Just don’t leave.” I peer back over my shoulder and see the pleading look in his eyes. Even though my gut is telling me to leave, my heart says to stay.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” he asks, his eyes pleading. When I nod, the smile that lights up his face sets my body on fire. I forgot what that smile did to me and standing here, staring at the man that I’ve compared every boyfriend I’ve ever had to, I have to remind myself of the reality of our situation. “So why do you want a butterfly?” he asks again, wrapping his fingers around my elbow and leading me to a small room in the back that has what looks like a massage chair and shelves full of equipment.
“I don't know,” I admit, thinking back to why I’ve always loved butterflies and what they symbolize. “I guess I like the idea that they’re born one thing and then throughout their life, they become their true selves, something more beautiful.” Kacey’s eyes train on mine and a look of understanding passes over him, telling me he knows exactly why that symbol is important to me.
“I love it,” he says with a smile, picking up his iPad and sitting in the chair opposite me. “But do you mind if I take what you want and turn it into something else?” I tilt my head to the side, wondering what he means. “I will incorporate the butterfly, but I want to customize it. Will you let me do that for you?” I nod, the blush creeping up my neck, but I avert my gaze just in time as he sits back and starts drawing.
“So, how did you end up here?” I ask, hoping to fill the silence as I try my hardest not to watch him, but it becomes impossible because watching him in his element is sexy as fuck. His feet are propped up against the chair as I sit and watch his tongue darting out, making me wonder what it tastes like.
“You mean a tattoo artist or on this boat?” His eyes flick to mine and I smirk, loving the playful nature between us, missing the way we used to be back when things didn't get so complicated.
“Both?” He smiles, catching my eye before going back to drawing. “What made you become a tattoo artist? The last time I saw you, you were getting your Art History degree.”
“Ahh yes, the degree that left me with a shit ton of debt and very few job opportunities.” I remember Kelsey telling me that Kacey was becoming a tattoo artist and for some reason that fit him a lot better than the pretentious nature of his degree. I loved the idea of him using his talent to make others happy.
Kacey spends the next twenty minutes telling me everything from how he got his shop in New Orleans to the offer to open another shop on the ship.
“So, who’s running your shop back home?” I ask, wondering if he had to close.
“A friend of mine decided to help me out and brought in his own team to run it until I come back.”
“So, you are going to go back?” I ask, the question lingering in my mind since yesterday. Kacey stops drawing, his gaze uncertain and I get that pit in my stomach again.
“Maybe?” he says honestly. “When I got the offer I originally turned it down, not wanting to leave my shop but the more Reggie and I talked, the more I realized I loved the idea of being a nomad for a while. You know I’ve never been one to settle in one place for long.” And with that sentence, the pit becomes the size of Texas as it settles in my stomach. Before I have the chance to respond, he sits up and goes to the printer.
“Can I see it?” I ask as he peers over his shoulder at me, smirking. “What is that look for?” nervousness creeps over every inch of my skin. Kacey takes the print, places it on the table behind him, and comes over and kneels in front of me, his finger tracing over the inside of my wrist as I struggle to breathe.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, the question catching me off guard.
“What do you mean?” Kacey smiles, the pads of his fingers drawing patterns on my skin, sending arousal straight between my legs. When my eyes meet his, that lustful look stares back at me.
“Do you trust me to create something amazing for you?” I nod, not even thinking, and he smiles, getting up, the spell between us broken. “So where do you want this tattoo?” I point to the inside of my forearm, and he nods.
“What’s that?” I ask as he takes a piece of fabric and strokes it between his fingers.
“A blindfold.” My heart rate picks up once more, understanding dawning on me. “I want this to be a surprise. Is that okay?” I nod, wanting his design on me more and more by the second. “That’s my girl,” he mutters, and I wonder if he knows he said it out loud. Just as I am about to say something, the blindfold covers my eyes and I’m blanketed in darkness.
