Cuffs - Cara Lockwood Page 0,40
stories about those who’d leaned too heavily on the pain meds so many doctors seemed happy to prescribe, and what happened afterward.
It would be a long, hard road. The tattoo was such a little gesture, but one he felt he had to make. He sank into his own thoughts for the rest of the time he spent in the chair, though he was keenly aware of Mags touching him, inscribing him. He thought she should be the one to talk next. Everything he said only seemed to push her father into her shell.
“There,” Mags said as she leaned back, wiping his shoulder with her clean cloth. “I think we’re done.”
She sat back, admiring her work, and Gael glanced down. The side of his shoulder was now fully inked, the falcon’s wings across it, its talons outstretched. The damn thing looked almost three dimensional. When he flexed his arm, he almost felt like the bird might really take flight.
“Wow,” he said, amazed. “I thought the outline was great, but this...” He didn’t think words could do it justice. He moved his arm, and the bird moved with him. “It feels like it’s alive. This...is like living art.”
She cocked her head to one side. “Living art,” she repeated. “I like that.”
Their eyes met, and he felt locked in. Could almost see the pulse in her neck tick up a notch as she sat, frozen, next to him. Maybe they couldn’t carry on a conversation about anything other than sex, but their bodies talked to one another just fine, he thought—he could feel the current of electricity running between them, buzzing and hot. He reached up and touched her face, and she didn’t move, didn’t speak, as he pulled her closer to him, and then her lips were against his. She hungrily deepened the kiss and he welcomed it, her tongue lashing against his. This was a language they both understood.
He broke free, though. Determined to make inroads with her on grounds other than physical. He’d crack her hard shell. One way or another.
“Want to get dinner?” he asked her as he put on his shirt.
She blinked back surprise. Dinner was not on her mind, as she glanced at his belt buckle again.
Before she could say no, he took her hand. “Come on. I know you worked up an appetite doing this. And I also know you get hangry.”
She laughed a little, but he could feel her hesitate. He wondered if he ordered her to have dinner with him, if she would. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted her to want to come.
“I should probably stay at the shop. I don’t have anyone to man the front.” She was fine with fucking him in her office, but when it came to going out? That was another story. He wondered why.
Gael glanced at her and then his watch. “That’s okay,” he added. “I’ll be headed to the hospital first, anyway, to check on Ava.”
He saw something shift in her at the mention of his sister. “Wait,” Mags called, snatching her leather jacket off the hook near the door. “I’m coming with you.”
CHAPTER TEN
MAGS SQUIRMED IN the passenger seat of Gael’s expensive car. She’d never ridden in anything so sleek before, and she’d only ever seen an Aston Martin on TV, usually with James Bond driving it. With Gael at the wheel of the silver sports car, she could almost imagine him fighting spies. The image of 007 in her mind reminded her that not all men who wore expensive suits were weak or cowardly.
But then, Gael wasn’t weak. She’d felt his strong hands on her body, followed his direct commands with pleasure. The memory of him taking her against the desk of her own place made a white-hot flash singe the back of her neck. He was anything but weak.
Gael’s hand reached out and took hers, and she let him keep it. She liked the warmth of his hand, the way he glanced at her periodically, as if checking to see if she was still there. She shifted a bit in the car, feeling underdressed, somehow, which didn’t even make sense. They were in a car, not a five-star restaurant.
He pulled into the drive-in of a local hot-dog joint. “Do you mind if we pick something up for Ava?” he asked her. “It’s Ava’s favorite, and she hates hospital food. Her surgery is midmorning tomorrow, so she can eat and drink until 10:00 p.m. tonight.”
“Sure—I love Superdawg,” Mags said, feeling relieved that