Sacred Skin Read online

  Blurb

  Leo

  When I need a tattoo artist to cover up my self-harm scars, I meet Brooks, the owner of Sacred Skin and the man I don’t realize is about to fix me in more ways than one.

  Brooks Hogan is exactly my type--that is, the exact opposite of me. All hard muscle and tattoos...and the most piercing grey eyes I've ever seen. He makes my heart practically palpitate right out my chest.

  I never thought he'd agree when I asked him to model for my photography series. I certainly never dreamed he might want to get close to me. I'm the kind of guy that gets chewed up and spat out. I can't help but expect the same from Brooks. But he keeps proving me wrong.

  We might be from different worlds. There might be secrets he's keeping. I know those bikers who hang out at his studio aren't just customers. So how can I trust that he won't hurt me? That he's not dangerous?

  Brooks

  I've known tough guys all my life. From his looks alone, you wouldn't think Leo was tough but he's one of the strongest people I've ever met.

  The first time he walks into my studio, I don't know what to make of him. He's got a sweet attitude, but some bad scars to cover up. Makes you wonder where they came from.

  I never thought anyone would make my knees weak, especially not a dude. I was never much of a romantic. But there Leo Cooper is, doing all sorts of things to my head and heart. Not to mention other parts of my body…

  All he wants from me is trust, but that's the last thing I can offer. There's things I have to hide from him. My family connections are a risk for anybody who gets close to me, and yet here Leo is, pushing to find out more.

  I never knew that coming out was going to be the easy part. But hell, things are so messed up, it's the only place I know to start.

  Sacred Skin

  Terra Sinclair

  Copyright © 2018 by Terra Sinclair

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  1. Leo

  2. Brooks

  3. Leo

  4. Brooks

  5. Leo

  6. Brooks

  7. Leo

  8. Brooks

  9. Leo

  10. Brooks

  11. Leo

  12. Brooks

  13. Leo

  14. Brooks

  15. Leo

  16. Brooks

  17. Leo

  18. Brooks

  19. Leo

  20. Brooks

  21. Leo

  22. Brooks

  23. Leo

  24. Brooks

  25. Leo

  26. Brooks

  27. Leo

  Afterword

  About the Author

  1 Leo

  I walked past the shop for the third time, hovering outside as I stared up at the golden lettering that decorated the large window. Sacred Skin. If skin was indeed sacred, then I had a lot to answer for I thought as I pulled the sleeves of my sweater into the palms of my hands. It was a habit I’d developed around the same time I started hurting myself. One I was hoping to break. That was why I was here, after all. I was getting tattooed. Covering up years of the nasty work I’d done to myself. The door to the tattoo shop opened, starling me as a beautiful woman with long ridiculously straight black hair companied by snow white skin walked out of the shop to the busy sidewalk.

  “Hey,” she said, putting a vape rig to her lips and taking a hit. I wasn’t sure if she’d come out for a vape break or to talk to me so I just stood there awkwardly and smiled at her like I knew exactly why I was there and what I was doing.

  “Hi,” I replied. My voice sounded small and nervous. I hated how much I sucked at hiding my feelings.

  The woman laughed softly, tossing her silky dark hair over her shoulder. “First time?” she asked, like it was written all over my face.

  “That obvious?” I cringed at how uncool I was. Next to her, anyway. She was dressed in an all-black ensemble of denim that hugged her perfectly proportioned curves. I was all baggy hoodie and messy hair like I’d just rolled out of bed.

  “Well, I could see you pacing outside for the last ten minutes so I made an assumption. You’re here to see Brooks, right? I’m Marlena, I work reception at the shop,” she said, reaching out her hand.

  At a first glance, I’d thought Marlena was intimidating with her wicked style and piercing blue eyes. She seemed sweet, though. The kind of person that could make you feel at ease. I took her hand and shook it.

  “Just trying to get the courage to go inside,” I admitted. “I know that’s probably totally lame to you,” I eyed up the tattoos peeking out of every part of her exposed skin. All black work, thin lines. I wanted to take a better look but I’d only just met her. “A twenty-four-year-old who’s too scared to walk into a tattoo shop. I’m Leo, by the way,” I tried hard not to blush at my admission.

  “If you’re not ready right now, we can reschedule your appointment,” Marlena said, sympathetically. “Is it the pain you’re afraid of? It’s not as bad as you might think.”

  “No!” I replied quickly. “It has to be today. I need it to be today,” I sighed. “It’s not the pain I’m worried about.” I swallowed hard, looking down at my arms. My sweatshirt was still pulled tightly into my fists.

  “Oh.” Marlena placed her hand on my shoulder. “Can I see?” she asked.

  I nodded and Marlena gently pulled my sleeve up. If someone had asked me a year ago to see my scars, I would have taken off at the speed of light. But this was exactly why I was here today. I was sick of these scars controlling my life. I was sick of hiding. I looked up at Marlena and she smiled.

  “Brooks is an expert at covering these up,” she said, tracing a thumb over the raised scarred skin on my inner forearm. “But you already knew that, right? That’s why you’re here.”

  I nodded. “I’ve heard good things.” It was my best friend, Aria, who had suggested Sacred Skin to me in the first place. She’d had another friend who self-harmed get a beautiful butterfly tattooed over her scars.

  “Brooks is the best,” Marlena confirmed. “And we don’t judge here. You’re safe.”

  “Thank you,” I smiled back at her. I was right, she really did know how to put people at ease.

  Marlena took another hit of her vape before gesturing for me to follow her inside. I took a deep breath and walked through the doors of Sacred Skin. The studio was nicer inside than I’d expected. The walls were a garnet color with black skirting framing the floors and ceiling and covered in various flash designs and artwork. At the entrance was Marlena’s reception desk and to the side, a waiting area with expensive looking black leather couches and a coffee table stacked with tattoo books and magazines. Soft rock and the sound of buzzing needles filled my ears. The smell of disinfectant engulfed my nostrils as I took another deep breath. There was something almost nostalgic about the place even though I’d never been there before.

  “Leo’s here,” Marlena called out behind her to an area I couldn’t see. There was a large screen covering the rest of the studio beyond the waiting area. She turned back to me, “do you want a glass of water?”

  I nodded, taking a seat on the sofa and sinking back into it. Marlena appeared a moment later and handed me a chilled glass. “Brooks is just finishing setting up. He’ll come get you in a minute.”

  “Thank you,” I told her, sincerely. My anxiety levels had reduced significantly since Marlena had come and talked to me and I was grateful for it. I was finally starting to feel nervous about the other part of this. The getting tattooed part.
>
  I picked up a flash book for Brooks’ work and flipped through the pages. His signature style was neo-traditional, all rich in color and detail. His talent was obvious - both artistically and in the tattooing itself.

  “Leo?” A deep voice filled my ears as I looked up at the man standing in front of me. He was well over six feet tall and all muscle. His tight black T-shirt clung to his abdomen enough that I could make out the curves and dips of muscle underneath.

  “Brooks?” I replied, dopily as I inspected the artwork that adorned his arms. Skulls, animals and flowers filled every inch of visible skin. He grinned at me.

  “That’s me,” Brooks replied. “You ready to come through?”

  I nodded and stood up, feeling wobbly in my knees. He was gorgeous. The kind of man that was… manly. I, on the other hand was used to being mistaken for a woman with my shoulder-length blonde hair and slender frame. Brooks turned to walk to his part of the studio, passing another tattoo artist who was busy working on a large detailed back piece. I couldn’t help watching the way his jeans fit his perfectly shaped ass. This was bad. As if I wasn’t nervous enough as it was, the guy who was going to be tattooing me was a total bad boy heartthrob.

  “Take a seat,” Brooks said, his voice slow and sultry even though he wasn’t trying.

  Again, I nodded, moving my backside onto the plastic wrapped tattoo bed. Brooks pulled out a flash sheet and held it up to me. My eyes traced the outlines of the drawing. Carnations. They were my mother’s favorite. I couldn’t think of anything more appropriate to put on my body. Something that reminded me of her. In a good way, this time. Not like the way it was with my scars. When I looked at them, I remembered the lowest point of my life. I remembered my mother passing away and being left with nothing or no one.

  “It’s beautiful,” I told him. I almost wanted to cry. Almost. I refrained though, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes.

  “Let’s see how it fits,” Brooks said, thankfully not realizing I was having a moment, or pretending he didn’t notice at least. “Which arm did you want it on?”

  I gestured to my left arm, pulling up the sleeve. The scars had faded over time but they were still raised enough to know they were there. Some were pink, some skin tone. I hated them. If Brooks was shocked by them, he didn’t show it on his face. His grey eyes scrolled over the inside of my forearm before he placed the design over it. It was a perfect fit.

  “What do you think?” Brooks asked me, his eyes looking up to meet mine. I instantly averted my gaze down to my arm. The last thing I needed was for him to realize the fact I thought he was gorgeous. His grey eyes were hypnotic. Two bright silvery full moons. I’m sure if I looked into them long enough, I’d get pregnant. Even if that was biologically impossible.

  “It looks good to me,” I said. “It… covers everything.” The scars were completely hidden behind the flower design which was exactly what I had hoped for.

  Brooks smiled. “Great. Did you read the email Marlena sent you about tattooing over scar tissue and what to expect?”

  I nodded. “Yes.” I knew there was a risk that the scar tissue would make the tattoo blur more easily. And that it would hurt more. But I had a pretty high pain tolerance, anyway. My arm was a testament to that.

  “Cool. Let’s get started then,” Brooks hand wrapped around my arm, holding it in place as he started putting the transfer on. His grip was tight enough to feel but it was gentle at the same time. It had been a long time since anyone had touched my bare skin. I had one last look in the mirror once the transfer was on to make sure the placement was right. Brooks obviously took his job seriously which made me feel at ease. He wanted everything to be to my liking. “It looks good to me but you’re the one who’s going to be wearing it for the rest of your life,” he winked at me. ‘What do you think?”

  “It’s perfect.” I looked away before the blush fully bloomed on my pale cheeks. It was pathetic really, but it had been so long since I’d had any sort of romantic experience meaning I was stupidly giddy over the slightest things. Like being in the presence of a hot guy, apparently.

  Brooks grinned. “Yeah?” His smile was gentle and warm. A stark contrast to his hard appearance. It was intriguing. He was intriguing. “Awesome. You can lie back if you like. Get comfortable.”

  I did as he said, laying back onto the bed, my arm positioned so he could get to it from his stool. From the angle, I got a perfect view of Brooks in a way he couldn’t see me looking. I studied his features. He was beautiful. He had high cheekbones that complimented his clean-shaven square jaw. His deep purple lips looked plump. I bet they would be nice to kiss. I wondered how he would kiss. I imagined him being passionate, intense and possessive. Jesus, I could feel my dick stirring at the idea.

  “Ready?” He asked, placing the tattoo machine near my arm and looking up at me.

  I shook away my ridiculous thoughts of kissing him. What the hell was wrong with me? It was a good distraction at least, the other half of my brain argued. “Yep,” I nodded, exhaling a deep breath. The needle piercing my skin was enough to get rid of my semi.

  For a man so large and muscled, Brooks was surprisingly tender. I could tell he was being gentle with me. Each time he wiped away the excess ink, he did it with kindness. Of course, it hurt. I didn’t expect it not to. But the way Brooks moved with such delicate precision, even if this was my first tattoo, I knew he was trying to make it as painless as possible.

  “So, carnations are your favourite?” Brooks asked above the buzzing of the tattoo machine. He didn’t avert his gaze from his work.

  I smiled. “My mothers,” I told him.

  “That’s sweet. I bet she’ll appreciate the gesture,” Brooks’ eyes met mine before returning to my arm.

  “She passed away six years ago,” I admitted. “I guess the tattoo is supposed to be some kind of tribute to her. Or something. I don’t even know.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry,” Brooks stopped tattooing this time and gave me a look full of sincerity. It made my heart thump in my chest.

  “It’s okay,” I told him. “Death is a part of life. I’ve accepted that.”

  “It doesn’t mean it’s easy to deal with, though,” Brooks replied. He carried on tattooing before he stopped and spoke again. “Carnations are a symbol of a mother’s undying love. When Jesus was crucified, Mary’s tears entered the earth and carnations grew. If you believe in that kind of thing.” He looked up and smiled softly.

  “I never knew that,” I admitted. “It’s nice though. Kind of fitting.”

  “My mom’s a florist. She used to own a flower shop when I was growing up and I worked there on the weekends if I needed extra cash. She made me learn the meanings behind different flowers.” He shook his head with a smile, like he was remembering a happy moment in his life.

  “I guess that came in kind of handy for you in a way,” I suggested. “You must tattoo a lot of flowers.”

  Brooks grinned. “Yeah, I do. Roses are probably one of the most common things I tattoo.” He paused. “What do you do for work?”

  The conversation was a nice distraction from the pain. “I work at a gallery downtown. It’s called Inspire. We exhibit local artists mostly but also show work from around the country. We host art classes and workshops as well. I have my fingers in a few pies there, mostly curating the gallery but I teach some classes as well.”

  “I knew you were an artist,” Brooks said.

  “I never said I was an artist,” I quipped back. “I went to art school so I know technique but I’m not very talented in drawing or painting.”

  “So you don’t draw or paint. But you do something else, right? What’s your medium?” Brooks looked up at me expectantly. What was it about me exactly that said artist? I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or that I needed to reconsider wearing my designer friend, Creed’s pieces.

  “Photography,” I told him. He was good at getting information out of me, I’d give him that. “Mostly portrait stuff. Black and w
hite. I shoot mostly with film. There’s something more authentic about it.”

  Brooks grinned. “I guess some of the beauty and authenticity is lost in digital. You can take a million photos and choose the best. With film, you’re limited. It’s unedited. Raw.”

  My heart stopped. Marry me? I wanted to blurt out. “Exactly!” I replied. I realized I sounded a bit too eager but it wasn’t every day you met a guy who was 1. Hot and 2. Got you. Most people snorted at my use of film like it was some hipster fad. “That’s exactly what I think too.” I smiled at him.

  When Brooks had finally finished the last details of the flowers and told me it was done, we’d been deep in conversation for over an hour. I hadn’t talked so much to anyone but Aria or Evania in forever, let alone a perfect stranger. There was something about Brooks that made me want to open up though. He was easy to talk to. He had this certain kind of calmness about him. This ability to spark up emotions in me and lead me to trail on about my passions. I guessed it was some form of bedside manner. Get your clients distracted enough that their mind will stop focusing on the needle currently scratching their arm.

  I stood up and looked in the large wall mirror, checking out my brand new ink. It was better than I could have ever hoped it would be. Beautifully detailed and precise. “I love it,” I told him, almost wanting to cry I was so happy. I would finally be able to wear something other than oversized hoodies.

  Brooks’ face lit up. “You sat like a pro for your first time,” he said as he wrapped my arm in plastic wrap. “Did Marlena book you in for your next session already?” I was getting the same design on my opposite arm.