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Disclaimer–I don't own anyone you might recognize from this story. They're their own property. Most of the characters are based on real characters, just the names have been changed to protect the guilty. I also don' t own any song lyrics or anything else I may quote.

Note–I want to give a huge thank you to everyone who's given me such great reviews and are keeping up with this story, you're the reason I do this! Please, keep it coming!

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He just sat there starting at his hand like it was some kind of alien being acting independently of his brain. I was trying just to breathe and get a grip on my wayward hormones. When our eyes met, there was a curious mix of desire and embarrassment in his. Locked into this intense stare, the air between us thickened by the second, his hand still burning like a coal on my stomach. I couldn't have looked away if my life had depended on it.

He must have bumped the table beside him as he moved because something crashed to the floor.

Just like that, the spell was broken. He jumped and jerked his hand away from my skin like it had burned him. He bounced out of the chair, a flush creeping up his neck as be bent to retrieve the box of gloves that had fallen, taking more time than he needed. Finally, he turned back to me. Now he just looked uncomfortable and nervous, as well as slightly dazed. He ran a hand over the black bandana covering his hair.

"Listen, Daere, I'm so sorry. That was totally unprofessional and inappropriate. I don't know what I was thinking," he said, his expression sincere.

"The last think I ever wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. Fuck." Now he was pacing the small confines of the booth. I raised my hand for him to stop.

"Shannon, stop. It's ok. I could tell you weren't doing it on purpose. I know you weren't trying to cop a feel. Believe me, I'm not offended. I'm flattered, actually. And you didn't make me uncomfortable, at least not the way you mean. Come on, we're both adults, no need to make a big deal about it. So please, just relax and sit back down so we can finish."

He stopped abruptly, his expression inscrutable as he looked at me.

"You're sure?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," I said, adroitly blanking my facial expression to seem calm and collected. Nothing could be further from the truth, but this was neither the time nor the place.

He visibly relaxed to a degree as he sat back down. As he bent back down over my hip, I could see that his neck was still flushed, and the tension in the air was definately still there, but it was diffused to a tolerable point. I ached with denied arousal and I couldn't help wonder what he was thinking as I lay back and closed my eyes again, my mind racing as I waited for him to complete my tattoo.

As he concentrated on shading the last parts of her tattoo, Shannon administered a mental head-smack to himself. What the hell was wrong with him? He'd practically molested a client. Yeah, she was sexy as hell and he had been fantasizing, but that was no excuse. He'd been around plenty of beautiful women in his life and had never had any trouble controlling himself. Thank god she seemed cool with it and hadn't freaked out. That would have been bad. Very bad. She definitely didn't strike him as the type to go for a casual, one-night fuck. She had too much class for that.

He paused to refresh the ink again, and a thought slammed into in mind. She'd said she was flattered, hadn't she? She was flattered that he found her attractive? What the hell? Did the woman not know how stunning she was? Someone like her should have men lining up to date her. He surreptitiously glanced at her left hand. No wedding or engagement rings. There was no way this girl could be single, could there?

As he finished up, an idea about getting to know her better formed in his mind, bringing a smile to his face.

The cool sensation of soap solution hitting my skin drew me back from my musings. There was no way this gorgeous, talented man could be interested in me. Hell, he could have been thinking of any number of dazzling, equally famous women, or even a fan for that matter. I mentally gave myself a reality check. I'm sure he was just worried about offending me or bad publicity for the shop or a lawsuit or something. He'd probably been thinking about some perfect centerfold type when he'd been caressing me. No need to get my hopes up there. I'm definitely not that naïve.

But he was incredibly gentle as he wiped my side down and soothingly applied salve to the super-sensitive skin. He sat back and studied his handiwork. He grinned.

"Damn, that turned out great, even if I did do it. Wanna hop up and check it out while I clean up?" he asked, offering me his hand.

Taking it, I slid out of the chair and stretched, trying to loosen muscles gone tight from being still for so long. I crossed the checkered floor of the shop to the full-length mirror on the other side of the room.

It looked even better on my skin than it had on paper, the reds and black lustrous against my skin. The lines were clear and the shading perfect. The design curved and swirled, accentuating the curve of my small waist and flare of my hip. The lines themselves looked like just-forged metal that was still red-hot in the center and cooling on the edges. They framed the words "For so as steel is tested in fire, so will love be perfected in pain" which were written just at my waist in an ornate script that appeared to be backlit by a deep red glow. It was utterly flawless, I thought as I turned this way and that to admire it from all angles. Shannon suddenly appeared beside me in the mirror. Damn, he could move quietly for such a big man.

"So, what do you think?" he asked. I beamed at him.

"It's amazing. It's beyond perfect. Thank you so much. You're very talented, you know."

"It was a pleasure. Do you mind if I take some pics of it for my portfolio before we bandage you up?" he asked.

"Not at all." I replied.

So for the next little while, I posed for him as he snapped pics with digital cameras, both mine and his. He even took a few with is phone, which happened to be the black twin to my own Blackberry. He even knelt in front of me to get some up-close shots, giving me all kinds of censorable thoughts. Still on his knees, he looked up at me.

"You know, I think that has to be one of the sexiest tattoos I've ever seen, period. It just accentuates your body perfectly."

Our eyes met yet again and that little jolt of electricity shot through me again. Suddenly, all I could picture was being pressed up against the bright purple wall with my legs draped over those wide shoulders as he drove me crazy with his mouth.

I actually jumped when he touched my side lightly. My nipples were hard and exquisitely sensitive to the friction of bra and my nipple rings. Damn, I thought, this man is dangerous for my sanity. He gracefully got to his feet.

"I guess we better get you bandaged," he said, reaching for the tape. I made a face and he laughed.

"It looks too good to cover up." I said, jokingly.

"Yeah, but you can't be walking around topless like that. Just think of the accidents you'd cause, and I'm sure the cops around here aren't equipped for riots. And think of all those poor guys you'd give heart attacks and girls you'd make jealous with that body and sick tattoo. I'd just have to be your bodyguard, I guess," he joked, flexing for me. I couldn't help admire the play of the muscles in his shoulders as he taped me up. When he finished, he tossed me my shirt and I slid it back on.

"It'll just take me a few minutes to wrap up," he said as he swiped my debit card. As I signed the reciept, I noticed the amount was considerably smaller than I'd anticipated. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"You sure this is right?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure. You came a long way down here. Don't worry about it," he said, flicking off the lights. I stubbornly added a nice tip to the reciept, hoping he wouldn't look to closely at it yet. I glanced at the clock. It was almost eight p.m. We'd been together for over eight hours and I really didn't want it to end just yet.

I definitely didn't want the night to end here as I checked out his perfect ass encased in a snug pair of worn jeans as I followed him out into the humid summer evening. The sun had just set and the brightness of day was fading and the temperature was just right. This was my favorite time of day.

He locked the door behind us and turned to me, twirling the keys around his thick fingers and grinning at me once again. The rogue was back. His smile was infectious, I couldn't help smiling back. Damn, I couldn't remember smiling this much in a long, long time. I swear, I felt high. I wasn't sure if it was an endorphin high from the new ink, him, or a combination of the two and I couldn't care less. I felt great. He looked down at me, that devlish smile still quirking those pretty lips, and his green eyes were sparkling.

"Hey, I have an idea. How bout instead of calling your girl right now we go get something to eat. I don't know about you, but I'm starving." He playfully bumped me with his shoulder.

"After all, I usually at least take a girl out to dinner before I grope her," he said teasingly.

Before I could answer, he put on a pitiful look.

"Because if you don't, it's just gonna be me, Oz, and some take out, and it's too pretty a night to be sitting at home." He was giving me pleading, puppy-dog eyes. How could I resist? I shoved him back playfully.

"Oh, and you made it through the whole tattoo and you put up with me all day. That at least deserves dinner."

"Ok, ok. I'll go," I said, still smiling. I was beginning to think the grin was gonna become permanent.

"Awesome." he said, wrapping an arm around my un-tattooed left side and guiding me across the parking lot.