Your splinters are caught underneath my veins
"Are you having second thoughts?" Peter asked standing just behind her as she gazed, a little over stimulated by the many designs covering the walls.
"Nah, this was my idea in the first place." Her lips cured into a lazy smile.
"Yeah well its one thing saying you'll do it, another thing to actually be here and doing it."
Carla turned to face him and laughed at his dry sarcasm, his hands buried deep in his pockets. All his attention on her.
"One thing you should know about me Barlow, as unpredictable and erratic as I might be I always follow through." She winked knowingly, rolling up the sleeves of his jacket as he chuckled.
He had placed it over her shoulders on the long stroll by the sea front. She had not said she was cold but after an awkward second when her shoulders tensed she had not complain. She liked the way the fabric creaked, the way it smelt like him and smoke.
"Oh I don't doubt that." He whispered and they were both suddenly aware at how close together they stood. There was an electricity between them, one that was only matched by the energy of the shop, the artwork, the constant buzzing of the tattoo gun and the low growl of some heavy rock band. It made her feel wild, sexy and a little dangerous.
"Are you ever going to tell me the story behind yours?" Carla asked closing the gap between them so she could trace the outline of an old tattoo on his uncovered bicep. He shivered at the coolness of her touch, her hands still chilled from the unforgiving wind.
Her hair feel over her face as she studied the design and he instinctively pulled a hand out of his pocket to brush the dark strands behind her ear. "I've got quiet a few." He told her as his hand settled on her hip and he let himself get lost in the depth of her startling green eyes.
"I've got time." Her gaze shifted to his lips, her hand now firmly gripping his arm and he could not help but admire her beauty. Her wind mused hair, the way she bit into the fullness of her bottom lip, the way she wore his jacket all so very apparent under the harsh florescent lights. Peter was a moth to the flame. She never stopped surprising him, she never stopped being exciting.
"So what are you going to get?" He hesitantly broke the moment before he lost all sense of himself. He missed the feel of her as soon as he stepped out of her touch. He must have frowned with his displeasure because she laughed.
A large man covered in tattoos with impossibly long dreadlocks stepped out from the back rooms and announced he was all set up.
"Not telling," She smiled wickedly moving to follow the other man. "But you can undress it when its all healed. You know what they say; I'll show you mine if you tell me about yours." She called over her shoulder.
He rolled his eyes at her playfulness. "You sure you don't need me to hold your hand?"
She tuned and leaned against the doorframe, "Oh Peter I'm a big girl." And then she was gone and he burned with anticipation.