Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
“It’s perfect.”
“You sure?”
I nod and lie sideways when he reclines the bed.
I hike up my skirt and Kane wags his brows, having pulled the chair closer so he can hold my hand if needed. Truth be told, I’m shaking a bit. I’m nervous of what the pain might be like. I had a look online and found so many different responses varying from, searing burn, to light pinching, to the feeling of a million needles penetrating your flesh over and over again.
Still, I don’t want to be a massive pussy like Kane so I school my features and confirm the placing of the tattoo after he traces it onto my skin with faded black ink.
It’s on my upper right thigh, meaning this guy has an epic view of my ass.
“Show me your panties, Immy,” Kane jests, popping a cigarette between his lips.
“No smoking in here while I’m working,” Stan says firmly.
“Naw, I quit for my girl here. I just like the feel of it.”
“It made my hair stink,” I add, winking at Kane who rolls his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, you love my hair.”
“This ain’t a conversation I wanna be a part of no more,” Stan jests and the buzzing starts. “You ready?”
“Yep.”
The needle hits my skin, the sharp feeling makes me jolt a little but not so much that he goes wrong. It’s not that bad, it feels weird and hot, but it’s not terrible. In fact after a couple of minutes I close my eyes, bite my lip, and relax with it.
“Are you enjoyin’ this?” Kane asks, making me open my eyes.
“It’s quite relaxing,” I respond with a soft smile. “It’s not painful, not really.”
“High pain threshold,” Stan comments. “Guessing you felt a lot of pain in your years.”
Kane’s eyes darken because we both know it’s the truth.
“Nothing major, Grandma likes to hit me with belts and shit when she thinks I’m going against Jesus.”
Stan chuckles. “Better not let her see your tattoo then.”
Kane brings my hand to his lips. “Just eleven more months and I’ll get you the fuck outta there.”
Smiling I say confidently, “You love me.”
He rolls his eyes but he doesn’t deny it. Not like he used to. Does this mean he does? Will he ever say it? I’m not saying it first.
26 years old
“Aren’t people who do tattoos usually covered in them?” West asks, skeptical despite the fact I’m being honest. Well, about that part at least. I can’t say I’m being honest about anything else.
“Yes,” I reply, pushing my hair back and leaning back as they all assess me. “What? You want me to get naked? I’m not covered, I have meaningful pieces here and there. Some I did myself, others Lonny did.”
“Lonny?” Felicia asks and I blanche. I realize my error but there’s no taking it back. I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway, like Kane said, ain’t nobody coming looking for little ole me.
“A genius with a tattoo machine.”
“And Marshall, what is he up to?” Kane asks, sounding bitter but curious. “Givin’ you a grand life in a big city?”
“Why ask about shit you don’t wanna hear about?” Felicia admonishes, throwing him a look.
“He’s umm… he went into plumbing.” I bite on my lip and look away from Kane’s deepening scowl.
“Fuckin’ plumbing,” Kane utters, shaking his head. “You got a picket fence?”
“No, I live in the city, not suburbs.”
We stare each other down and I wonder why I thought this was a good idea. I look at my phone.
“I really should go.”
“Back to Marshall? Why didn’t he come with you, Immy?” Kane asks as I stare at his collar bone. “Why didn’t he take you to your mee-maw’s funeral and cheer you on while you set her memory on fire?”
“He’s busy workin’,” I snap, shoving at his chest but he grabs both of my wrists, yanks me to my feet and pins me between his body and the counter.
“Son,” West warns.
“Give us a sec, yeah Pa?”
“I think—” Felicia tries but Kane snarls, “I said give us a fuckin’ sec. We got shit to discuss.”
“We don’t got anythin’ to discuss,” I argue, fighting for my freedom, though weakly I’ll admit.
“Kane,” West barks.
“Pa, give me a fuckin’ minute,” he shouts at his daddy who presses his lips together and looks between the two of us.
“Fine, but you gotta let her go, kid.”
“Let her go once because you told me to, Pa. Not lettin’ her go again without knowin’ why she chose that preppy son of a bitch over me.”
Well… shit.
Felicia snorts. “The Jessop men are too prideful. Put him out of his misery, Imogen. Tell him what he needs to hear.”
“Guys,” I beg, wishing they’d stay because even after all this time, being alone with Kane Jessop is doing things to me I don’t want to admit.
“Fuckin’ hated you for what you did to me,” he admits, gripping the counter either side of my body. “Leavin’ like that, not even giving me a chance to talk.”