Music of the Soul (Runaway Train #2.5)(24)

I held up my hand like I was swearing an oath. “As soon as we get back to Atlanta, I’ll go see my doctor.”

“Good.” His fingers caressed my face. “I don’t want to think of anything happening to you, least of all, you being in pain.”

“You’re so sweet and good to me,” I murmured, as I gazed into his eyes.

A gagging sound came at my feet. When we glared at Steve, he held up his hands. “Sorry. But it’s hard for me to do this when I think I’m going to puke.”

“Douchebag,” Jake muttered, which caused Steve to grin.

I held out my hand to Jake, and like the wonderful husband he was, he took it and squeezed encouragingly. “Best anniversary present ever,” I said, with a smile.

“How will we top it next year? Sky diving?”

I shuddered. “Not with my fear of heights.”

“Go back to our island and stay naked for days.”

Steve cleared his throat. “What?” I asked.

“Are you trying to kill me? That statement either puts a totally inappropriate picture of Abby in my head—” At Jake’s low growl, Steve shook his head. “Or, I see you and your naked ass parading around. Neither is a win-win situation.”

“Finish the damn tattoo,” Jake ordered.

Steve narrowed his eyes. “You forget that I’m working on you next. Don’t make me take out my aggression on you.”

Becs stepped up with an ink gun in her hand. “Why don’t I help things along and take care of Jake?”

“Then I can’t hold his hand for support,” I whined.

Jake grinned. “Besides, this twatcanoe,” he motioned at Steve,” is the only one who does my ink.”

“He really doesn’t think a woman can do it,” AJ called.

“Shut up, dickweed,” Jake muttered. He glanced at Becs and shook his head. “I appreciate your offer, and despite what that ass**le over there says, I have confidence in your work, despite the fact you’re a chick. But my lovely wife needs me, so I’m staying here.”

I smiled. “My hero.”

“No more talking, especially the lovey-dovey shit,” Steve instructed.

“I thought the customer was always right,” I countered.

“Not in my parlor,” he replied before he brought the needle back to my skin.

I sucked in a breath as Jake hovered over me. His breath warmed against my ear. “As long I whisper to you, Mr. Jackass can’t get his panties in a twist,” he whispered.

“Thank you,” I replied.

“Do you know what I’m going to do when I get you home and into our bed?” After I shook my head, he replied, “I’m going to strip you down and bury my face between your legs until you scream my name.”

His words caused my face to flush as well as a tingle between my legs. He continued to whisper all the naughty things he intended to do to me and for us to do when we got back home. By the time he finished, Steve was done with the shading of my tattoo. As I sat up to admire it, I secretly hoped there wouldn’t be a puddle of wetness left on the chair that Jake’s sexy words had induced.

“Like it?” Steve asked.

“I love it. It’s amazing.”

He gave me a genuine smile. “I’m glad you like it. It’s always an honor taking one’s tattoo virginity.” While I laughed, Jake gave a contemptuous grunt. “Your turn,” Steve said pleasantly to Jake. As Becs put on a thin layer of ointment and got ready to wrap my foot, Jake sat down in the chair opposite me to get inked.

As the needle entered Jake’s skin, he met my gaze. His dark blue eyes burned with desire, and I felt my cheeks flushing. “Remember everything I said earlier?” My breath hitched as I bobbed my head furiously. “Just as soon as we get home. Every. Single. Thing.”

A shiver of anticipation and need went over me. “What about your chest and my foot?” I dared to ask.

With a sexy grin, he replied, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

I had never wanted a tattoo to be finished more than I did his because I knew I had an amazing night waiting for me.

After a multi-orgasmic, all-night sexathon, Jake and I barely made it to the bus at seven am when the caravan was pulling out for the next tour stop. We immediately headed straight for the bedroom and crashed. The following day we pulled into Louisiana. Between my foot and ankle aching from the tattoo and my side continuing to hurt, I felt like ass through most of the morning’s rehearsal. The instant we were through, I streaked off the stage, desperate for some Advil. I barely gave Jake a fleeting kiss before heading for the bus. Once I had stripped down to my sweatpants and a T-shirt and thrown back some pills, I headed over to AJ and Mia’s bus for some downtime with Bella.

Coloring pictures and watching movies helped to take my mind off the pain. But when dinner rolled around, I was hurting so badly I couldn’t eat. As I swept my full plate into the trash, Mia eyed me. “Are you okay?” I could tell her spidey-nurse senses were tingling.

“Just a little achy from the tat and then there’s this stupid pain in my side.”

“Which side?”

“Right.”

“You still have your appendix?”

“Yeah. This is an intense, dull ache. Not like the typical stabbing, shooting pain of an appendix.”