The tattoo hero

The night was mild and the sky sparkled with countless stars when Annika arrived at the small bistro in the old town with her wrist tattoo. The tattoo, a fine, black band with floral patterns, was their trademark, a small resistance to world conventions. As she sat down and ordered a cocktail, she noticed the man at the other end of the room. His deep brown eyes seemed to burn when they met. She felt a tingling in her stomach as he rose from his seat and slowly came towards her. His presence was overwhelming, and as he sat down next to her, the sound of the bistro around her was irrelevant. “I just had to come here and talk to you,” he said with a charming smile. She smiled sheepishly, but the underlying desire was obvious. His hand came close to her wrist, moved across the delicate skin, straight to her tattoo. Annika held her breath as she saw his gaze — a mixture of desire and curiosity. “There is something magical about your tattoo,” he whispered as his fingers stroked it tenderly. It was the start of something they both couldn't have foreseen as their faces moved closer, the heartbeat in their chest grew louder and the air around them began to crackle. The moment seemed to stop when Annika felt his warm breath on her skin and she knew that what was in front of them was anything but harmless...