Heart Shot

1

Heart Shot

By GH Worth

"Mom, I lived to tell the tale. I'm fine." "I wish you wouldn't joke. You know it upsets me." Ashton Rowan grabbed his computer bag and climbed out of the car. "You need to stop fixating on what might have happened. It doesn't do any good. I'm trying to move on with my life. You should, too."

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2 "I'm sorry, I'm trying. It's hard. Your father and I could have lost you." "I know." He did know, but if she cried one more time, Ashton was going to scream and throw a temper tantrum like a little girl. "Did you call the number I gave you last week?" "I don't need to bare my soul to a bunch of strangers," his mother snapped. "It's a survivors group, not a shrink. Make the call. It'll help. I promise." He heard a faint sniffle come through the line. "You sound like your father." "I'm at the gallery and need to go. I'll talk to you and Dad in a few days. Goodbye." Ashton walked into his office, sat his coffee on the desk, and tossed his keys and cell phone next to the mug. He dropped his snow-caked jacket over the back of the chair and frowned as he saw his already heavily-scheduled monthly calendar. Then he noticed February 14th, Valentine's Day, was only seven days away. A day known worldwide for cupid, flowers, chocolate, romance, and lovers was also the worst day of his life, thanks to his stalker ex-lover. "Hey, Ash. What are you doing here? Weren't you taking the week off to visit your family?" Noah, his best friend and business partner, strode through his office door. "I decided against it. Running away seemed like the coward's way out, and not the best way to handle the upcoming holiday. I called my brother this morning and canceled my trip until later in the year." "Are you certain? The next week might be a little rough. I ran the gallery for weeks while you recovered. Another week off isn't a problem." Noah shrugged. "Hell, we own the gallery. If you need to leave town, go. No one will think less of you. I know I won't." "Thanks. You're a good friend." "Damn right I am." Ashton rubbed the area of his chest directly above his heart, the memories of agonizing pain, blood, a frantic ambulance ride, surgery, and two weeks in an uncomfortable hospital bed as fresh as if they'd happened yesterday. After leaving the hospital, there were more weeks fighting off infection and painful physical therapy to get his left arm functioning again. Noah was right, the next week would be rough, but the alternative was letting one horrible moment ruin his life. "Even if I wanted to, I can't forget what happened. My parents are still freaked out, especially my mom. She's driving me crazy with phone calls." "That's because you're not fine." Noah snorted and moved farther into the room. "I've noticed the circles under your eyes the last week."

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3 "With Valentine's Day approaching, I can't sleep." "You should call your doctor for a sleeping pill prescription." Ash shook his head no and glared at his friend like he was stupidest person who'd ever walked on the planet. "No pills! Isn't the old saying something about time healing all wounds? I never understood what it meant before, but this last year has taught me the statement's true." "Even after what psycho Kent put you through?" The sour expression on Noah's normally smiling face made Ashton chuckle. "Yeah, even with the weeks of pain Kent caused." Kent had put him through plenty the six months they'd been together, and the two months after. Jealousy, temper tantrums, more jealousy, anger, screaming, and the little shit had even struck him a few times. Ashton couldn't forget the nasty phone calls, venomous emails, and the stalking, either. Noah punched Ashton's arm hard enough to rock him back on his feet. "I told you to dump Kent's crazy ass. Did you listen to me? No. You thought I was over-reacting because I didn't like the annoying asshole. I just wish you'd listened to me. "I wish I'd never met the man, and have to live with what happened. As a one-year reward to commemorate my survival, I'm getting a tattoo to cover the biggest scar on my chest." "So that's why you asked so many questions about tattoos and how to care for them." Ashton shrugged. "I've toyed with the idea since you got your first one when we were in college. I'm not into pain, and always felt I needed a good reason to let a tattoo artist jab me repeatedly with a needle, but didn't have one." "But now you do?" "Yes." Picking up his jacket, Ash pulled a folded piece of plain white paper from the inside pocket. "I did some sketching last night when I couldn't sleep. I came up with an idea I think might work, but I need to talk to your tattoo guy, Mark, first. I thought I'd call and make an appointment." A smile brightened Noah's face. "Mark's great and a real artist with a needle. You won't be sorry having him ink your tattoo." Noah plucked the paper from his hand, and studied it for several seconds. "When are you going to start painting again? We haven't shown any of your work in the gallery for a couple of years." "I started a couple of pieces last week." Ash jerked back the paper and dropped it on his desk. "I'm glad to know you recognize my outstanding skill and breathtaking talent." "What I recognize is that you're full of it."

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4 ***

The phone at the front counter rang and rang. What good did it do him to have employees if they didn't do the job he paid them for? Mark Zachary, the owner of MZ Inks, fumed at his missing young employee. He dropped the supply list he was checking and stuck his head out into the hall. The phone rang. "Petey?” Nothing. Damn. "Petey. Petey. Answer the phone." Mark stomped to the front of the store, his temper flashing hotter with each ring of the phone. "Where the hell are you? If you weren't my little brother, I'd fire your worthless ass." He was two feet from the front counter when the phone stopped ringing. "Son of a bitch." Mark looked at his watch and rolled his eyes. He should have known. It was noon, and the time his brother's ditzy girlfriend took her lunch break every day. That meant the two sticky-sweet young lovebirds were out in her broken-down old car, fogging up the windows, necking and God only knew what else. He knew they weren't eating. He'd never seen a bite of food pass their lips this time of day. Grabbing the phone and his jacket, Mark left the shop, still irritated at his irresponsible missing brother. He walked around the side of the building, heading to the back corner of his parking lot and the car spewing out gray exhaust. Mark jumped over a small pile of dirty snow left by a snowplow, skirted a large sheet of ice, and slid to a stop next to the car. As Mark walked closer, he could see the six fogged up windows, and could just make out the two bodies moving around on the backseat. Mark rapped on the driver's window at the same time he bellowed, "Petey, get your ass out here." Nothing. Did his brother think he was going away? Stupid kid. He rapped on the glass again. "Petey. Out. Now!" The door creaked open and his little brother unfolded his tall, lanky body from the cramped backseat and crawled out. "What do you want? Can't you see I'm on my lunch break?" "No. You're not on your lunch break. You're necking with your girlfriend on her break, and you'll want yours later, so you can grab a burger and fries." "So?" So. So. Mark saw red. Petey needed an attitude adjustment, and he was just the man to do it. "Petey, you're my brother and I love you, but you're also my employee. That means you don't leave for lunch without asking me, and you don't leave the shop unattended. Ever. It also means

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5 you don't get two lunch breaks just because you can't keep your hormone driven eighteen-yearold hands off your pretty little girlfriend."

"Hey, that's not..."

Mark jabbed his brother in the chest. "Don't interrupt me. I'm not done." He jabbed Petey again.

Harder. "It also means that, from now on, if you want to keep the job I pay you for, you treat it

seriously, and not as a joke, or an easy way to make a buck because I'm your brother. If you

don't, I'll fire your ass and hire someone who'll appreciate the steady paycheck."

"Mom and Dad..."

"Don't have anything to say about it. You're an adult, although God knows you don't act like it

most of the time. I suggest if you want to stay employed, you get serious. Lastly. As much as I

like Jennifer, from now on, she's not allowed on the property during business hours, unless she's

here as a paying customer."

Petey stepped closer, crowding Mark against the car.

Mark punched him in the shoulder. "Don't try your intimidation shit with me, little brother. I can

still beat the crap out of you."

"Hey, that hurt." Petey rubbed his arm and frowned. "Why'd you do that?"

"Because you deserved it. Now get your ass back inside and do the work I'm paying you for."

Petey gave his girlfriend a quick peck on the lips and slammed the door. "You're just jealous."

"Whatever. Get back to work." He glared at his brother. "I'm not jealous of your love life."

"Right. Liar."

The sorry thing was... his brother was right. He hadn't had a boyfriend or a date in more months

than he cared to remember. Mark was lonely. He needed a special someone. He needed to get laid. *** Lunch came and went with Ashton buried up to his elbows in work, trying to get the details arranged for the special gallery showing scheduled for the July 4th weekend. He loved the idea of displaying the works of talented veterans. He was working closely with two local groups to find the best representation of veteran-produced artwork, no matter the medium. He looked at the clock and winced when he saw the time. Picking up the phone, he dialed the number of MZ Inks again and hoped this time someone would answer. The phone rang and rang.

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6 Ashton looked at the number. He knew he'd dialed correctly, and had just considered doing a Google search to check the number, when a deep, raspy voice answered. "MZ Inks. Can I help you?" Ashton's dick twitched and hardened, the sexy voice wrapping around his balls like a warm caress. He looked at the phone. He looked at the number. He looked at the phone again. He was in shock, and didn't know what to say. For the first time in over a year, he felt sexually aroused and he didn't even know what the man on the other end of the phone looked like. All he knew was the voice made him want to lick the other man all over. While naked. Skin to skin. Slowly. Very, very slowly. For hours. Maybe days. "Hello," the voice asked again. "This is Mark of MZ Inks. Can I help you?" The hint of irritation in the man's voice jerked Ashton out of his sexual daze and back to the phone he had clutched in his hand. "Sorry. I think we have a bad connection," he lied. "My name's Ashton Rowan and I'm calling about an appointment for a tattoo consultation. A friend recommended you." "Then you've called the right place," the husky voice now purred. "Who's your friend?" "Noah Phillips. He's my business partner." Mark laughed warmly on hearing the name. "You guys own the art gallery on Beacon Street. Noah's a great guy." "Yeah, he is," Ashton chuckled. "We've been friends for years. He got his first tattoo while we were college roommates." "What did you have in mind for yours?" "Something to commemorate a special milestone in my life." Ashton looked down at his sketch, and smoothed out the wrinkles from where he'd wadded it up. "I have a sketch. If you'd like, I can fax it to you." "I'd be happy to take a look at what you have. I can always adjust it if I need to. The longer they talked, the harder Ashton became. By the time he'd faxed the sketch to Mark's shop, his cock was so rigid he considered closing the office door and mini-blinds to take care of the pounding ache before he exploded. Ashton leaned back in his chair and adjusted his pants, trying to give his aching dick extra room. "Did you get it? What do you think?" He couldn't mistake the pleasure in Mark's voice. "Did you sketch this? You're talented."

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7 "Thanks." Ashton looked at his schedule. "Could I come in tomorrow to discuss it? I'd like the tattoo started on Valentine's Day." The other end of the phone was silent for a few seconds, before Mark answered in a strained voice. "Sure, anytime in the morning's fine. We can work out the details and I'll have a price estimate written up for you to approve. Do you want black or color?" "Definitely color. I want it to look as lifelike as possible." *** Hearing Ashton Rowan wanted his tattoo started on Valentine's Day made Mark want to growl. Why were so many people obsessed with February 14th and all the fru-fru trappings associated with it? He didn't understand it. He never had. Then again, he'd never had a boyfriend during the month of February. Hell, he hadn't had a boyfriend for more than six months straight his entire adult life. Listening to his mother's well-intentioned weekly questions and comments about his private life made him tired and cranky. When was he was going to find a 'nice' man and settle down, buy a house, and get a dog? Had he thought about adopting a child? Two? Three? One evening, she'd even dropped a file folder with information on several international adoption agencies in his lap. Right. Him and a gay man... a partner, adopt a child. Children. Right. She was dreaming. Wasn't she? Mark scrubbed his hands over his face. He hated to disappoint his parents. They'd talked about grandchildren long before he'd come out of the closet, and unless a miracle happened, the only ones they'd get were from Petey and whoever he married. If he settled down. "Whatcha looking at, Mark?" Petey jerked the sketch out of Mark's hand. Mark jumped and dropped his pen. "Jeeze. How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me? It's a sketch a potential client faxed me a few minutes ago. He's coming in tomorrow." Mark jerked back the paper. "But what is it?" Mark rolled his eyes, and then remembered his brother had almost flunked every history class he'd taken in high school. "It's a gryphon, a legendary creature that's part lion and part eagle. A guardian of sorts." "Why do you know that?" "Unlike you, little brother, I love history, and paid attention in class. I even watch educational television programs. I love the history channel."

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8 "You spend too much time alone in your apartment reading and watching TV." "Hey, I spend plenty of time sketching out designs, studying new tattoo methods, and keeping updated on health and safety concerns." "But you do them alone. You need to go out more, find a boyfriend, and get a life." *** When Ashton pulled his car into the parking lot of MZ Inks, his body almost hummed in nervous anticipation. He'd considered the tattoo for weeks, talked to Noah, done research, and finally started his first sketch of dozens, two weeks ago. Deciding to get a tattoo was a huge step forward in healing from Kent's attack and it filled him with a comforting sense of quiet control. He paused for a moment to rub his scar, thankful the pain that had racked his body for weeks was gone; the only things left were unpleasant memories and bad dreams. He was ready to get on with his life, and the tattoo was the next step, even if he was a tad apprehensive. Ashton got out of the car and walked quickly to the entrance. He jerked open the door, stepped inside, and lurched to stop when he saw the tattooed man standing behind the counter. The guy was everything he found attractive in a man: tousled hair the color of wheat, bright blue eyes, muscular without appearing bulky, and a twinkling smile that made his cock want to come out and play. He couldn't talk, take a deep breath, or move. He stared. Stared at the tattoos. Tattoos he wanted to lick with his tongue. The man who made his heart pound like a bass drum smiled, stepped around the counter, and extended an ink-stained hand in greeting. "Hi. You must be Mr. Rowan. Welcome." Just like yesterday, the man's voice went straight to Ashton's cock, and he felt it twitch and start to rise. He mentally rolled his eyes and slapped the back of his head, because he was acting like a tongue-tied adolescent with a hard-on, instead of an experienced, in-control adult. "Mr. Rowan. Is something wrong?" Ashton jerked and took a step back when the man stepped closer. "No. No, nothing's wrong." Nothing, except Mark flustered him, causing him to act like an idiot. Ashton extended his hand and plastered what he hoped was a friendly smile on his face. "Please, call me Ashton... or Ash." "And you can call me Mark." Oh, sweet baby. I'd like to call you mine and tie you to my bed. He did roll his eyes this time. The guy was probably straight as an arrow and willing to beat the crap out of him if Ash looked at him wrong. "I know you got my sketch. Now that you've had chance to study it, do you think it'll work for my tattoo?"

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9 A smile broke over Mark's face, making Ash's heart flutter like a teenager's. "I think it's great. I'll need to simplify it a bit, but once it's filled in with color and shading, you'll never know the difference." "Great. Your work on Noah is impressive, so I'm eager for you to ink mine." "Let's go back to my workroom and you can show me where you want your tat placed. I also have several printouts for you to take home, covering care of the new tattoo and what to look for in case of infection. And there's a release form for you to sign, allowing me to do the tattooing." "You make it sound like a medical procedure form like the ones used at the hospital, and I've signed plenty of those in the last year." Confusion flashed across Mark's face at the comment and he stopped walking. "It's not a true surgical procedure, but the needle breaks the skin and blood flows, so you need to be aware of the possible dangers and complications." "Over the last two weeks, I've done my research and yesterday I asked Noah enough questions to drive him crazy. My brain is on tattoo overload." "Good." Mark chuckled. "It's impossible to get too much information." He pointed to an open door. "Let's go in here." Ashton followed Mark into a brightly-lit room filled with designs tacked on the wall, inks, a well-used padded chair, and strange pieces of equipment he couldn't identify. "Where did you plan to have the tat placed?" "On the area over my heart." Ash tapped his chest. "Here." "Take off your shirt." "Excuse me?" "I said take off your shirt. I need to look at the skin in the area; to check for irregularities in pigment and texture." "Okay." Ash unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off his shoulders, his eyes never leaving the man whose gaze burned his skin like the blazing hot sun. He tapped his chest. "I want the scarred area covered. I was hoping you could work the damage into the feathers of the gryphon chest to hide the scars as much as possible." Mark reached out tentatively, his fingertips grazing the uneven tissue. "What happened to you? Were you shot?" He moved closer, his breath causing Ash's nipple to pucker. "It looks like a healed gunshot wound." Mark touched two other spots on his chest. "These do, too."

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10 Ash gritted his teeth and clamped a hand over his unruly nipple. "That's what they are." "What happened?" Even though Ash hated to talk about what happened, the expression on Mark's face said he was dying of curiosity. He'd told the story so many times to the police, friends, and family in the weeks following his attack that sometimes it seemed the shooting had happened to another person. Telling the sordid details of his life one more time didn't matter. "A little over eighteen months ago, I met this guy... Kent." He looked at Mark, carefully gauging his reaction, pleased he didn't see disgust on the man's face. "We dated for a few weeks, but there was something off about the man. Noah said I should dump him, that Kent creeped him out. I didn't listen. At least not right away. When I told Kent I didn't want to see him again, he freaked out, said I'd be sorry, and turned into a stalker. Last Valentine's Day, he came to my door, shot me five times, then turned the gun on himself." "Oh, my God." "I'd have died if Noah hadn't been in the living room, watching TV." Mark touched the scar again. "From the looks of it, you're lucky you didn't." "It was touch and go for a few days." Ash smiled brighter than he felt. "But as you can see, I'm fine." "And it explains why you want the tattoo started on Valentine's Day. It's a new beginning for you." "Yes." The man's finger's kept touching, stroking, gliding over his damaged flesh. The constant petting sensation made his nerve endings hum. Ash's nipples hardened, goose bumps covered his chest, and his cock twitched and filled with blood as it pushed against his zipper. He wrapped his hand around Mark's wrist, trapping it against his chest. "And if you don't stop touching me, I'll chance kissing you, and hope you don't punch me." "Definitely not going to hit you." Mark wrapped his fist around Ash's belt and jerked him forward. "Been thinking about kissing you since you walked inside my shop. Wanted to know what your lips taste like." "God, yes." Ash's fingers slide up Mark's arm. "I'd like that." "I told you to find a boyfriend and get laid. I didn't mean for you to do it in the shop." Both men jumped, and as soon as Ash saw the young man standing in the doorway, he tried to slip away.

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11 "Petey, didn't Mom teach you better manners?" Mark snapped. "What the hell do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?" "Is busy what you call it these days?' Petey grinned and moved farther into the room. "You need to get ready for Ben Hutchinson. He's here for his appointment." "Shit." Mark stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. "Tell Ben I'll be with him in five minutes." After Petey left, he turned to Ash. "As you probably guessed, that was my little brother. Damn. I have to work." He placed his hand on Ash's chest and pushed him gently back against the counter. "We're not done. Not nearly." *** Mark had finished almost half of Ben's newest tattoo, an intricate black Celtic woven band around his left biceps, when Petey wandered into the work room, a stupidly annoying smile on his face. "What do you want, little brother? You can see I'm busy." His brother moved closer and hitched one buttock onto the battered wood desk. "So, brother. Tell me about this guy you had pressed against the counter." "Time-out," Ben, the guy in the chair said. "Time-out." He waited until Mark turned off the tattoo gun and laid it on the table. "Okay, my friend. Spill your guts. Who's this guy and where did you meet him?" Mark rolled his eyes and flexed his shoulders, trying to relax his cramped muscles. Damn, just what he needed. Two of the biggest gossips he knew trying to nose their way into his private life. Again. "I'll give you the short answer so I can get your tat done." Ben shook his head. "Oh, no, you don't. The tattoo can wait. I want details." "You're a nosy old woman, Ben." He turned to his brother. "And you're not much better." "Well, excuse the crap out of me for wanting to know what's going on in your life," Petey snapped. "You're my brother and I have the right to know." He rubbed his hands together. "Besides, if I tell Mom, it'll get her off my back." "You bastard. Keep your damn mouth shut." Mark leaned forward and punched his brother in the arm. "I haven't even kissed the man yet," he mumbled. "What was that?" Petey cupped his hand to his ear. "I didn't catch what you said." Mark groaned and rubbed a hand across his jaw. "I said I haven't even kissed him yet." Ben grinned, a wide pleased smile. "I guess you should fix that. Now details."

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What was the use? They were going to badger him until he spilled his guts. Mark sighed and reached for his water bottle. "There isn't much to tell... yet. His name is Ash and he's a new client wanting his first tattoo. He sketches like a dream, is handsome, friendly, sexy, and I want to fuck him so bad, I can hardly think straight. I want to hear him scream." *** Noah walked into Ashton's office as he was sticking the last bite of cheeseburger in his mouth. "What did you think of Mark? Isn't he great?" Ashton looked at his friend for a long moment while he chewed, swallowed, took a sip of Coke, and wiped his mouth. Great wasn't the word he'd use to describe Mark. Friendly, talented, and gorgeous, those were the words that came to mind when he thought of Mark... and sexy, most definitely sexy. A warm smile tweaked the corners of Ash's lips. "Are you talking great, as in talented artist, or as in I want him in my bed?" "Finally. I was beginning to think your disastrous hook-up with Kent had turned you into a eunuch." Noah rubbed his hands together. "I want details... details, man. Did you kiss him?" "No, and there's not much to tell. When he pushed me up against the counter, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven." "If you got along so well, what happened? Why didn't you kiss him?" "Didn't have the chance." Ashton dropped his greasy lunch sack into the small trashcan under his desk. "Petey came in to tell him their next client had arrived, and that ended it." "Damn. That's too bad." Ashton shoved back his chair and rose to his feet. "Tell me about it. I want to do more than just kiss the sexy fucker. I don't care if it's his or mine, but I want that man in a bed, and soon." *** The next morning, Mark trudged up the stairs leading to Ash's second floor office, still unconvinced he wasn't making a big mistake. He was a self-employed tattoo artist. What did he know about fine art and the fancy dressed society people who bought it? Nothing. What could he possibly have in common with Ash? Again, maybe nothing. Could he deny their attraction? No. Did he want to see Ash outside the shop? Yes. Despite his unease, Mark continued down the brightly lit corridor until he'd reached the open door at the end. He peered into the office and saw Ash sitting at his desk, talking on the phone.

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13 The man looked good enough to take a bite out of, dressed in faded blue jeans and a light gray Tshirt stretched tight over a broad, muscular chest. A chest Mark wanted to sink his teeth into. Mark watched Ash for a couple of minutes, stepping inside only when he'd ended his call. "Hey, Mark. What are you doing here?" Ashton asked. "Is something wrong?" This was the sticky part: telling Ash what he wanted without sounding pathetic, desperate, or needy. "My job interrupted yesterday. I came by in hopes of taking you to an early lunch." The smile that brightened Ash's face quickly changed to a frown. "I can't." He'd expected the rejection, but it still hurt. "No problem. It was a stupid idea anyway." Now if he could get away from the man before he made a fool of himself. Mark stepped back. "I'll let you get back to work." "Where are you going? I meant I can't today. I'm leaving for the airport in," Ash looked at his watch, "thirty minutes. I'm flying to Dallas to meet with a couple of artists Noah and I are considering featuring in the gallery. I won't be back in town until sometime late afternoon on the thirteenth. Maybe we could meet when I get back." Mark smiled so big his jaws ached. Hot damn! "Why don't you let me pick you up at the airport and we can have drinks and dinner." *** Most days, Ashton didn't mind flying, or the long waits in crowded airport terminal coffee shops or restaurants. It gave him time to read, sketch, answer phone calls, and even do computer work using the airport provided Wi-Fi. This trip was different. This trip, he wanted to end. Now. Ashton rolled his tense shoulders and tried to stretch his cramped legs. He looked out the small porthole window and growled. The ground wasn't anywhere in sight, and the weather wasn't to blame. It was clear as a bell. Why did it seem to take forever to get the plane on the ground once the seatbelt light came on? Ashton growled again and looked at his watch for the tenth time in five minutes. The flight attendant made his way down the aisle, checking on passengers and gathering trash. Ashton flagged him down when he reached Ashton's row. "Are we on time for our landing?" The man looked at his watch. "Yes, sir. We'll arrive as scheduled." "Thank you." Ashton looked out the window again. There, far below, was the ground... finally.

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14 He and Mark had talked for hours the night before, and again for a few minutes while he waited in line for his breakfast in one of the many airport restaurants. Then they'd talked again after he'd eaten and gotten through security. He knew more about Mark after a couple of days and a few phone calls than he had about Kent after they'd dated for six months. How sad was that? *** Even though the arrival/departure board showed Ash's flight landing on schedule, the jet was now ten minutes late, and the longer Mark waited at the designated passenger pick-up area, the more nervous he got. He looked down at his clothes: clean blue jeans, dark crimson Henley shirt, brown leather shoes, belt, and leather jacket. He looked damn good, even if he did have tattoos peeking out of the neck of his shirt. Mark glanced around the waiting area and saw a young couple with two small children staring at him. When they dragged their kids in the other direction, he got angry. "I'm not going to hurt them," he snapped. His reaction only made them move farther away. Mark shook his head and walked across the room, as far from the family as possible. He paced, he stalked, and when he couldn't stand it any longer, dropped into a chair. He'd just decided to call Ash from the truck and pick him up at the curb, when he saw the hunky man walk through the security doors. "Thank God," he mumbled. As Ash got closer, the smile on his face turned into a frown. He shifted his briefcase to the other hand and slung his wool coat over his shoulder. "What's going on? What happened?" What was he going to say? That he'd frightened a young family and their scared attitude pissed him off? Not likely. He'd smile, say nothing, and hope Ash let it pass. Hope. Mark plastered on a fake smile and moved closer. He wanted to pull Ash into his arms, and kiss him until they couldn't breathe, but knew it was impossible in public. "Nothing. Just eager to see you." "Right. Like I believe that." Ash stared over his head. "Did you get in a disagreement with the couple on the other side of the room? The man's glaring at you." "No, nothing like that." "Then what?" Ash prodded. "Tell me." "You're not going to let this drop, are you?" "If you plan on dinner this century, you'd better start talking." Mark heaved an exasperated sigh. "Are you always this bull-headed, or is today special?"

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Ashton chuckled. "Yes, I'm stubborn. Talk. Now." "Fine. The parents were afraid of me... dragged their kids away, and it pissed me off." "Forget about them." Ashton moved close enough to bump hips. "They're not important. Let's grab my suitcase and get out of here. You promised me dinner and drinks, and I didn't eat lunch. I'm starving." *** It took another hour to collect Ashton's bag, take the shuttle to the crowded parking lot, and drive across town. The trip home felt like the longest of his life, and not for the usual reasons. The weather was clear, the traffic flow light and Mark managed to hit almost every green light after they left the airport parking lot. The problem was confinement with Mark in a small cab, and the interior of the pick-up truck was very small. The scent of the man's cologne, mixed with the underlying musky aroma of his skin, made Ash want to jerk him over the stick shift and into his arms. Both could be a problem. The truck was traveling at forty-five miles per hour and despite his smaller size, Mark was clearly a top, who wouldn't appreciate being manhandled. Ashton gritted his teeth and tried to think of something else to take his mind off the man driving him crazy. He went over a grocery list, his expenses for the trip, and finally resorted to a long list of errands he needed to complete before the weekend. "How much farther?" "Excuse me?" When he answered, Mark's voice came out low-pitched and strained, as if his throat was sore and raspy. "I asked how much farther to your condo?" That's when Ashton noticed the white-knuckle grip the other man had on the steering wheel. "Less than a mile." "Thank God. I've got to get away from you." What the fuck! All pleasant thoughts of Mark went flying out the window. "Turn right at the next light," Ashton growled through tightly-gritted teeth. "You'll see the entrance to Drury Farms Condo up ahead on the left, and then take the first drive on the right." Another half-mile and Mark turned his truck into the drive leading up the hill to the buildings. "I didn't know there was housing back here. It's a nice complex... secluded."

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16 As the truck rounded the curve, Ash pointed to the large brick building on the end. "Up there... next to the empty concrete planters." He wanted until the vehicle rolled to a stop before he grabbed his bag and climbed out. "Thanks for the ride. I'll see you around." "What's wrong with you? Get your ass back in the truck." "You wanted away from me, so that's what you'll get." "What the fuck are you talking about?" Mark slammed the truck into park and lunged across the cab to snag Ash's sleeve. "Wait a minute. Why would you think I wanted to get away from you? I've been looking forward to our date since you left." "You've got a funny way of showing it," Ash snapped back. "Did you or did you not say not five minutes ago that you needed to get away from me?" Mark heaved a sigh and slumped back against the seat. "That's not what I meant." "Then explain or leave. It's been a busy three days and I'm too tired to play games." "I could smell you and the scent made me a little crazy. I was afraid I'd wreck the car." Ashton tossed his bag back into the truck and slid into the seat. He stared at Mark for a few seconds and, before he could change his mind, grabbed Mark's shoulders and pulled him closer for a kiss. As teeth clashed together, Mark pushed harder and took control of the kiss, his tongue surging inside Ash's open mouth, stroking the sensitive flesh. Without breaking contact, Mark angled his body sideways in the seat, grabbed the front of Ashton's shirt, and jerked him halfway across the cab. The kisses continued, each one harder and more dominating than before, until they changed, becoming feather light and gentle. One more kiss and Mark pulled back, breathing hard. "If we don't want to get arrested for lewd and lascivious behavior, we need to park and get inside where I can fuck you senseless." Ash shivered and blinked. "I like that plan. I like it a lot." *** It didn't take more than a quick glance around the living room for Mark to realize how far apart he and Ashton were, financially. The man had to be loaded, which shouldn't have come as a surprise, considering he was co-owner of a successful high-end art gallery. Everywhere Mark's eyes rested, he found another expensive item he couldn't afford in his wildest dreams. One piece of artwork, of which there were plenty, probably cost more than his truck and the huge room was half the size of his entire apartment.

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17 There was art and other pricey items all over the room: paintings on the walls, a couple of bronze statues, stained glass lamps, Persian style rugs, leather and antique furniture, and even a grouping of ornately-framed botanical prints hanging over the fireplace. He looked down at his clothes. What the hell did Ash see in him? The man in question strolled into the room carrying two bottles. "Hey, handsome. You want a beer?" "Thanks. I'm parched." He reached out and took the offered drink. "Your condo is great." "I like it, even if it's a little over-the-top, style-wise. It does come in handy for business parties." "There's nothing wrong with enjoying the finer things in life." Mark sipped his beer. "Do you cook for these parties?" "Right. Cook? Me? Are you nuts?" Without saying anything further, Ash grasped Mark's wrist and tugged him across the room to the kitchen. "Take a look around. A good look. Does anything is this room scream 'Ashton can cook'?" The huge kitchen with cherry cabinets, black granite countertops, and top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances was a dream come true for a man who liked to cook... a man like Mark. He might not be a chef, but he enjoyed the process, and liked to invite friends over to his apartment when he experimented. By the looks of the room, Ash did little more than snack and make coffee, which was a shame. A kitchen should be used. After making a big show of looking around the room, he turned back to Ash. "Do you even know how to use the microwave?" Ash drained his beer. "Don't be a smart ass. Of course I can use the microwave." "Just checking, because it doesn't look like you use the kitchen much." "Hell, my idea of cooking is cereal or toast in the morning, a sandwich or can of soup for lunch, and take-out of some kind for dinner." Ash opened a drawer next to the phone and pulled out a pile of menus. "I'm a whiz at ordering. I'm on a first name basis with the delivery people from a dozen restaurants in the area." Still holding his beer, Mark moved closer, crowding Ash against the counter. "Which place is your favorite?" "Mama D's Italian Kitchen. It has great food and a huge selection." Ash pressed closer. "How about I use my impressive take-out skills and order food for delivery, instead of going out for dinner?" "I'll even let you pick."

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"Good. I'm hungry and know what I want. Stand back and be amazed." And Mark was. Ash knew the phone number and menu by heart, and in less than five minutes had ordered enough food to feed an army. He started with tossed salads, parmesan breadsticks, and a large thin crust mushroom and Italian sausage pizza. He finished with side orders of spaghetti with meatballs, oven-baked lasagna, and a large pepperoni calzone. After saying goodbye, Ash hung up the phone and shoved the menus back in the drawer. "The food will be here in an hour." He waggled his eyebrows. "Whatever will we do while we wait?" "I think we can find something to pass the time." Mark grasped the front of Ash's shirt and pulled the man forward into a hard kiss. "Get naked." He looked at his watch. "We've got fifty-five minutes, and I don't want to waste a second." "God, yes." Another kiss followed, this one just as quick, but softer. "Bed or couch?" Mark chuckled as he ripped Ash's shirt over his head. "Bed. You're too big for couch sex, unless you want to chance falling on the floor." He reached out to tweak a tightly-pebbled nipple. "Get your sexy ass moving." When he reached the kitchen door, Ash turned and looked over his shoulder. "Just so you know, I plan to run my tongue over every one of your tattoos. Is that a problem?" "No." Mark stalked after him, grabbed his wrist and swung Ash around. "You can start with the one on my neck and work your way down." "And the last one ends where?" "Just below my right groin." "Naked now! I want to see." Ashton grabbed Mark's elbow and tugged him down the hall so fast, they stumbled through the bedroom doorway, tripped on the rug, and fell onto the floor in a jumble of arms and legs. Mark chuckled and rolled so he was on the bottom, with Ash straddling his hips. "I'm not going anywhere. We still have fifty minutes until dinner arrives and I'm a sure thing." Mark reared up, wrapped his arms around his lover, and pulled Ash down for a deep kiss that nearly took his breath away. The little whimpers coming from Ash made his already hard cock, as stiff as a board. A few seconds later, Ash pulled back, panting hard. "God, you're good at that. Kiss me again." "I can do that." He leered a little. "At least I know I'm not taking advantage of you."

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19

"No. You aren't. Not in the least." Ash glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "Forty-five

minutes. We've only got forty-five minutes."

"Stop watching the clock." Mark slapped his lover's hip. "Unless you plan to throw me out after

we eat, we have the rest of the night for rounds two and three. Up. Onto the bed."

Ash grinned and climbed to his feet. "What if I want a round four and five?"

"I'll consider it -- if you can still move. Now, stop talking, strip, and hit the sheets. You're

wasting time." He tapped his watch. "Forty-four minutes and counting."

Faster than he thought possible, Ash was across the room, stripped to the skin, and spread

wantonly on the sheets. The man was gorgeous when fully dressed, but naked, with his broad shoulders, well-defined chest, and lean hips, the only word to describe him was breathtaking. Well, not the only word. The others were sexy and fuckable. "Mark?"

"Yeah."

"What are you thinking?"

He finished undressing, threw his clothes in the corner, and stepped up to the bed. "I'm thinking

how much I'll enjoy fucking you through the mattress." *** Ash shook his head and tried to clear his lust-clouded mind. Watching Mark stare at him from the foot of the bed while he stroked his cock made Ash vibrate with need. The feeling had grown so strong that he was ready to jump out of his skin. He snorted and gripped the sheets until his

fingers ached.

"How long do you plan to stare at me?"

"I don't know. How close are you to begging?"

This brought a scowl to Ash's face. Arrogant, sexy bastard. "Close. Real Close."

Mark grinned and stroked his cock harder. "And?"

He rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at his lover's head. "I've waited hours. Fuck me.

Grabbing the pillow from the floor, Mark threw it back. "We don't have much time, so this one

will be fast. Hands and knees." He moved closer to the side of the bed. "Lube and condoms?"

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20 "Top drawer of the nightstand." Mark rummaged through the drawer while Ash willed him to hurry. "Find them?" Mark held up a well-used tube and a box. "Got them." While Mark ripped open the foil package and slicked his condom-clad cock generously with lube, Ash crawled to his knees and shoved a pillow under his groin. Suddenly, he was filled with doubt. He hadn't had sex since the last time he'd been with Kent. What if he disappointed Mark? He closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall down between his shoulders. Mark's warm hand brushed across his ass then slipped down to fondle his balls, and Ash's head popped up. "You ready, babe?" "God, yes." Ash wanted skin. He wanted to feel Mark's hands on him... in him. "Do it. Now." That's when he felt it. The warm press of a slick finger at the entrance to his body. He shivered and pushed back hard, only to feel a hand keeping him in place. "Ash. Stop. You're tight and I don't want to hurt you. You need to be stretched." "It's been a while," he panted. "Not since before Kent shot me." "Relax, babe. Let me make you feel good." One finger continued, stroking, rubbing and stretching until the tight muscle relaxed, and just when Ash thought he would scream with the need for more pressure, a second finger joined the first. Again, the fingers moved in and out, building tension, and then a sudden surge of electricity sparked through his body as Mark rubbed across the small piece of flesh guaranteed to make him scream. Ash whimpered and slammed his hips back. "Oh, my God. Do that again. Again." That same warm hand stilled his movements. "Do I add a third, or are you ready for me?" "Ready. I'm ready," he panted. "Need you in me." Mark gripped Ash's hips, lined up his cock, and pushed slowly inward an inch at a time, until he was buried balls-deep. He paused until Ash started to squirm. "Can I move? Tell me I can move." Ash moved forward and slammed back. "Move. Move. Move." There wasn't any reason to tell him twice. Mark groaned and started to move slowly until they found a rhythm. He stroked in and out as Ash panted and writhed under him. The pace got faster, the sound of damp skin slapping again damp skin louder, and the moans, groans, and whimpers deeper and closer together.

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"God, you feel... you feel perfect."

Ash raised his hips farther, until each thrust pegged his sweet spot and he screamed. "There.

Right there."

"Close... so close." Mark gasp and gripped Ash's hips with sweat-dampened hands hard enough

to leave bruises. "Come with me, babe."

"Yes!" Without touching his cock, Ash came with a deep, rumbling moan, the muscles of his

spasming passageway gripping his lover in a tight fist that sent Mark over the edge into his own climax. Mark sprawled across Ash's back, his arms trembling as he sucked in huge gulps of air. He kissed Ash's damp shoulder. "Are you still with me?" "Yeah, I'm good." Ash turned his head, their lips meeting briefly at the awkward angle. "Do we have time for a shower?" "I doubt it." He pulled out and tied off the condom. "The food will be here any minute. We can share a shower after we eat." And they did. A very long shower. *** "Rise and shine, babe. It's time to get the day started." Ash groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. "Give me ten more minutes. Ten minutes." "That's what you said twenty minutes ago." "I don't care. I'm tired. You wore me out." He growled and threw the pillow. "Poor baby." Mark jerked back the sheet and slapped his lover on the ass. "Time’s a wasting." He sat on the mattress and kissed Ash on the neck. "Come on, babe. I want to see what the ink's going to look like on your sexy chest."

"I like your chest, too." Ash stuck out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout. "And I've only licked

half your tattoos."

Mark laughed as he rubbed small circles on Ash's back. "You can work on a few more tonight." ***

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22 It took another twenty minutes before Ash was up, dressed, and ready to leave, after drinking three cups of strong black coffee. Then it took another fifteen minutes to drive across town to Mark's shop. By the time they walked through the door, between the caffeine and nerves, Ash was shaking. At "How long do you think it'll take?" "As long as it takes. Since your tattoo is so large and detailed, we'll do it on three separate days, a week apart, to allow time for healing. Each day will be broken down into sections, with a five to ten minute break in between each, so you can stretch your legs and have a restroom break.” He pointed to the mug in Ash’s hand. “You might want to consider drinking less coffee that morning.” "Hey, I like my coffee." Mark rolled his eyes. "My brother should be here any minute to watch the shop and then we can start. Do you want anything to eat first?" "Nah, I'm fine." Mark arched a brow and leered. "I agree. Mighty fine." That was a stroke to his ego. He had a new lover. A lover who thought he was fine. Ash grinned, a stupid, happy grin that probably made him look like a lovesick sap, and he didn't care. He didn't. He was too happy to care. It wasn't just the mind-blowing sex. Ash liked Mark and enjoyed talking to him, spending time with him. "And you're damn good at stroking my ego." "That's not all I'm good at stroking." Ash whipped his head around to look over his shoulder. "Mark!" They heard the front bell jingle. "There's Petey." Mark nudged his hip. "Are you ready to get started on the best Valentine's Day gift of your life?" A small smile curved Ash's lips as he touched Mark's hand. "When I first came into your shop, I thought the tattoo would be the perfect gift to help me heal, but I was wrong. My best Valentine's Day gift is you."

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23 Heart Shot Copyright © 2010 by GH Worth All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680 Printed in the United States of America. Torquere Press, Inc.: Sips electronic edition / March 2010 Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680

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