behind her, the top of her head a couple inches shy of my chin. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her jeans, exposing a thin band of ivory skin, and looked over her shoulder, waiting for directions.
“You can face forward.” I skimmed her cheek with a knuckle, encouraging her to look at her reflection. She blinked in surprise, but she didn’t shy away. It looked like we were making progress.
I replaced the hands at her hips with my own and resisted the urge to slide them under the fabric and run my palms over the silken flesh. I angled her body slightly to give her a better view of her back and positioned my thumbs at the widest part of her hips. “This is where you want the piece to end?”
“Yes.” Her response came out a breathy whisper.
Huh. Interesting. That was a good sign. I liked the possibility the attraction was mutual beyond the usual fascination with my body art.
I measured her lower back and recorded the numbers. Moving up to the dip in her waist and then to her shoulders, I tried to remain as professional as possible. It wasn’t easy, and it didn’t help matters that Tenley was flustered and fidgety. When social awkwardness had become a turn-on for me was a mystery.
“Okay, we’re all set.” I almost gave her ass a pat but stopped before I could act on my idiocy.
“Thank you for agreeing to do this for me.” She said it with such sad sincerity. Like marking her untouched skin with a massive tattoo deserved some kind of medal.
“It’s my pleasure.”
Tenley surprised me when she put her hand on my shoulder and rose up on her tiptoes to drop a soft kiss on the edge of my jaw, which was as high as she could reach. Mortification colored her cheeks pink as she stepped away, like she’d acted before she’d thought. I could relate; it seemed to be how I worked where she was concerned.
“See you Monday.” She hurried out of the shop and across the street, leaving her sketchbook behind. I wondered if she’d be back for it before then. I hoped so. I waited until she disappeared between the buildings before I brought the sketch to my station and set it down for the rest of them to see.
Chris let out a low whistle.
“That’s heavy,” Jamie said.
“I know.”
The sketch was otherworldly. And I couldn’t believe I had agreed to it. The darkness in it told me there was a story I should know.
9
TENLEY
Despite Hayden’s concern about the size of the piece, he vehemently refused to let anyone else work on it. His possessiveness over the job was as confusing as it was appealing, like everything else about him. The underlying significance was something I wouldn’t dwell on.
When I was near Hayden, all the parts of my past I wanted to leave behind disappeared, if only for a short while. But it extended far beyond the physical attraction, which had become impossible to ignore. He understood the concept of art as expression in a way my family and Connor hadn’t. Consuming in a way I’d never experienced; his presence acted as a balm I hadn’t realized I needed. With him I felt safe to embrace those inherent parts of myself I had previously denied out of fear of judgment. It made him as alluring as it did unnerving.
I didn’t know his story, but the tattoos I’d seen on his body and in his albums reflected his talent to unite the delicate and the severe. I hoped to learn more about what inspired his body art while he put my design on me. I would have plenty of time to do that with such an extensive piece.
I had spent the past ten months cultivating solitude, but now I wanted contact, physical and emotional. If Hayden came up with an adaptation we both agreed on, I would get both. The warmth of his touch made me feel grounded and alive. It was shockingly foreign after so much isolation. I could only hope that the tattoo itself would bring the type of catharsis I craved.
I paced around my apartment, flipped through the most recent version of my thesis but couldn’t
“You can face forward.” I skimmed her cheek with a knuckle, encouraging her to look at her reflection. She blinked in surprise, but she didn’t shy away. It looked like we were making progress.
I replaced the hands at her hips with my own and resisted the urge to slide them under the fabric and run my palms over the silken flesh. I angled her body slightly to give her a better view of her back and positioned my thumbs at the widest part of her hips. “This is where you want the piece to end?”
“Yes.” Her response came out a breathy whisper.
Huh. Interesting. That was a good sign. I liked the possibility the attraction was mutual beyond the usual fascination with my body art.
I measured her lower back and recorded the numbers. Moving up to the dip in her waist and then to her shoulders, I tried to remain as professional as possible. It wasn’t easy, and it didn’t help matters that Tenley was flustered and fidgety. When social awkwardness had become a turn-on for me was a mystery.
“Okay, we’re all set.” I almost gave her ass a pat but stopped before I could act on my idiocy.
“Thank you for agreeing to do this for me.” She said it with such sad sincerity. Like marking her untouched skin with a massive tattoo deserved some kind of medal.
“It’s my pleasure.”
Tenley surprised me when she put her hand on my shoulder and rose up on her tiptoes to drop a soft kiss on the edge of my jaw, which was as high as she could reach. Mortification colored her cheeks pink as she stepped away, like she’d acted before she’d thought. I could relate; it seemed to be how I worked where she was concerned.
“See you Monday.” She hurried out of the shop and across the street, leaving her sketchbook behind. I wondered if she’d be back for it before then. I hoped so. I waited until she disappeared between the buildings before I brought the sketch to my station and set it down for the rest of them to see.
Chris let out a low whistle.
“That’s heavy,” Jamie said.
“I know.”
The sketch was otherworldly. And I couldn’t believe I had agreed to it. The darkness in it told me there was a story I should know.
9
TENLEY
Despite Hayden’s concern about the size of the piece, he vehemently refused to let anyone else work on it. His possessiveness over the job was as confusing as it was appealing, like everything else about him. The underlying significance was something I wouldn’t dwell on.
When I was near Hayden, all the parts of my past I wanted to leave behind disappeared, if only for a short while. But it extended far beyond the physical attraction, which had become impossible to ignore. He understood the concept of art as expression in a way my family and Connor hadn’t. Consuming in a way I’d never experienced; his presence acted as a balm I hadn’t realized I needed. With him I felt safe to embrace those inherent parts of myself I had previously denied out of fear of judgment. It made him as alluring as it did unnerving.
I didn’t know his story, but the tattoos I’d seen on his body and in his albums reflected his talent to unite the delicate and the severe. I hoped to learn more about what inspired his body art while he put my design on me. I would have plenty of time to do that with such an extensive piece.
I had spent the past ten months cultivating solitude, but now I wanted contact, physical and emotional. If Hayden came up with an adaptation we both agreed on, I would get both. The warmth of his touch made me feel grounded and alive. It was shockingly foreign after so much isolation. I could only hope that the tattoo itself would bring the type of catharsis I craved.
I paced around my apartment, flipped through the most recent version of my thesis but couldn’t
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