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“Jordan Deveraux, I’ve been waiting for years to make amends. You’ve been on my mind every, single day.” I scatter kisses across her face. “I want to be the best man for you. Trust me when I say, there’s nothing I won’t do to prove we're meant to be.”
“Okay.” She melts into me. “I want to see where this goes.”
Wrapped together, our hearts beating on the same rhythm, I feel complete. I want her, the hardness in my jeans is no accident, but it’s not only about sex. I want all of her and I'll bend over backward to make her feel safe.
“Should I make this into a bed?” I gesture to the table. “It'll be more comfortable. I may even have sheets, I can’t remember. This is more of a commuter boat for work, so I haven't spent the night on it.”
She sits up. “Sure. I’ll help.”
Together, we convert the eating area into a bed. Though I can’t find actual bedsheets, I have a few blankets to spread out and the seat cushions double as pillows.
When we’re done, I lie down and pat the space next to me. “Ready for bed?”
“Yeah…” She crawls up beside me and lies on her side. “Can I ask you a question?”
I curl my arm around her. Her cheek rests on my chest. “Of course.”
“Did you want me to do your sleeve because of my skill or because you wanted to reconnect?” She traces the muscles of my arm with her finger.
“Jordan.” I kiss her nose. “One hundred percent to both.”
“You didn’t have any ink before.” Jordan runs her hand up and down my bicep. “Now you're tatted up. The entire time I was working on you, I wondered about your tattoos. Why you got them. What they meant. Usually it’s a huge part of a conversation with a client, but…” She rolls her eyes. “We were playing our stupid game of not knowing each other. Anyway, they’re so detailed and seem incredibly personal.”
I shift slightly. “Should I take off my shirt and I’ll tell you about them?”
“Uh…yeah. Took you long enough.” Jordan swats me playfully.
Reaching behind my neck, I grab my sweater and T-shirt, pull them over my head and lie on my stomach allowing her a better view of the tattoo that spans my back. “This one is inspired by Kengo Kuma’s work on the Besancon Art Center. I’ve always admired how he blends nature with architecture, creating harmony between the two. The dragons, koi, and flowers interwoven with the grid are a tribute to that philosophy, a reminder of the balance and fluidity I strive for in my own designs.”
“It’s magnificent. She traces the lines of the ink with a finger, her touch delicate and contemplative. “Ito is masterful, how cool you have a permanent piece of him on you.”
I chuckle. “It took less time to book with him than with you.”
“And the Roman one on your arm?” She smirks. “Merc was impressed you had a Riksfjoird.”
I stretch my arm up and flex to showcase my elaborate, Roman-inspired tattoo. “In my defense, my fascination with the Roman Empire is because of the architecture.”
“Of course it is.” She arches an eyebrow. “Ruben’s work in special. These busts of Roman gods look like they’re jumping off your body. I love the detail of the laurel.” Her thumb rubs the vine twined between the columns of the building.
Anytime she touches me, even during our tattoo sessions, I get hard, and tonight is no exception. Unlike earlier, my cock isn’t patiently hanging out in my jeans, it’s desperately trying to escape. “The buildings are St. Peter’s Basilica, one of the most renowned architectural works of the Italian Renaissance. The modern building is the Maxxi museum designed by Donato Bramante.
“These really do mean something to you.” Her palms rest on my back, she digs her fingers in and kneads.
Seconds later, Jordan slides a leg over me and sits on my ass to give me a more intense massage. She works the heels of her hands into my muscles and presses her thumbs into my pressure points. I can’t remember the last time someone’s taken care of me who doesn’t work for me.
“God, that feels good.” I mumble into the pillow.
“One of my special skills.” She flushes the span of my lats with quick sweeps of the sides of her hands. “What was the inspiration behind the tattoo I did for you?”
“Giotto’s Campanile, particularly the panels depicting the four cardinal virtues.” I'm delighted we're finally talking about why I saved this piece for her.' “Prudence for the ability to discern the appropriate course of action. Justice for the concept of moral rightness. Fortitude for the courage to face adversity. And temperance for the practice of self-control and moderation. Each part of this design is my reminder to embody these virtues in life and in my work.”
She examines the tattoo, moving my arm around as she absorbs the symbolism behind each virtue. “It's healed nicely, you're taking very good care of it. By the way? Hands down one of the coolest pieces I’ve ever done. Thank you for trusting me. It’s more than art on your skin. It’s like a narrative of your values.”
“Yeah…” I feel such a sense of pride. “Your art, your talent, you’re the only one I wanted to do this design. I wanted to carry a piece of you with me. There’s no one on earth who captures the soul of a design like you do.”
Jordan resumes her place by my side. “Wow. Quite possibly the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Thank you.”
“It’s true.” I pull her against my chest and twirl my fingers through her silky, blonde hair. Lying there with her surrounded by the sounds of the sea, my affection for Jordan is deeper than words. Does she feel it too?
