He maneuvered around me on a rolling chair. “I’m going to suggest some looser clothes when we start sessions for the back piece. Constrictive clothing tends to make things more difficult.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

He suppressed a smirk while I watched him prepare his station. He donned a pair of latex gloves, then set out a razor, a spray bottle of solution, several small cloths, a new needle in a cellophane package, his tattoo machine, the ink, and finally the design.

“All set?” he asked.

I gripped the armrests. “Good to go.”

Hayden ran a gloved finger over the old ink before he sprayed the solution on my skin. He wiped it down, then removed the plastic guard from the razor.

“Will you have to do that on my back?” I asked as he passed the blade over the area.

“No, this is just perfunctory.” His head was bowed, his brow creased in concentration. “It’s a small tattoo. I’m making sure the area is clean, but you’ve, uh—” He coughed. His tongue ring clicked against his viper bite. “—taken care of that for me.”

A sensual smile appeared as he wiped the site with a cloth. I looked away, unable to handle the flirting when I was so exposed.

“Wait! I didn’t even make a decision,” I said when he picked up the transfer.

“I can make it for you.”

I knew without asking which one he would choose. “Don’t you think it’s kind of juvenile?”

“A cupcake right here?” He traced the old tattoo. “No. I don’t think it’s juvenile. I think it’s sexy.”

When he said it like that, looking at me the way he did, it was hard to find a reason to disagree. It was the tattoo I’d wanted originally. No one could tell me no anymore. He waited for my approval before he sprayed the area again and pressed the stencil to my skin.

He peeled it away slowly and inspected the placement. Satisfied, he handed me a mirror and turned to his workstation. Hayden held up the cellophane-wrapped needle for me before he broke open the package and assembled his machine. He worked with skilled precision, moving from one task to the next with efficiency. The session would be over far more quickly than I liked.

“Ready?” he asked as he swiveled to face me.

“Definitely.” I was all in now. The opportunity to cover over one of the many points of contention between Connor and me presented too much of an allure. Connor’s reaction to the black heart had caused the first fissure in our relationship. The cupcake would hide this reminder that he and I might not have been the match I originally believed us to be.

Hayden turned on music before he started, the beat a complement to the hum of the tattoo machine. He dipped the needle into the ink and pressed lightly against my skin. It didn’t hurt the way it had the first time. Initially it stung, but soon the sensation hovered between mild irritation and pleasure. He was careful as he worked; one hand splayed out over my lower abdomen while he traced the lines of the stencil. His touch was gentle, a soothing counterpart to the bite of the needle.

“Everything okay?” The hot sting was briefly eclipsed by the cool swipe of the cloth as Hayden wiped away the residual ink.

“It’s fine, hardly hurts at all.”

The drone of the tattoo machine started up a few seconds later and Hayden resumed tattooing. He asked me about school, keeping up a steady stream of conversation while he outlined the design and filled it in with color. I told him about my program and the class I was teaching. I avoided his questions about my advisor and the content of my thesis paper. The revisions had been sent to Professor Calder. All I could do was hope he was satisfied. The alternative was too disheartening to consider.

Too short a time later, the buzzing ceased. He set down the machine and gave the tattoo a final swipe with the cloth, examining it.

“All done,” he said hoarsely and cleared his throat.

He offered me his hand, and I stood with his assistance, greedily accepting the prolonged contact. He guided me to the full-length mirror and placed his gloved fingertips on my hips, turning me until the light hit the tattoo just the right way. No one would ever guess it had been a cover-up for a badly drawn heart.

“It’s perfect.”

“The canvas made it easy,” he said and waited for me to finish inspecting it before he dressed the tattoo. I stood while he sat. He made one last pass over the fresh ink with a new cloth. Next he rubbed a dab of ointment over the area before he secured it with gauze and medical tape.

“So . . .” I pulled my pants over my hips and buttoned them. “Can I see the design?”

The professional guise dropped. Hayden’s hand smoothed down the outside of my thigh. “I’d be inclined to show you anything you want right about now.”

HAYDEN

Shit.

I hadn’t meant to do that—make it sound like a proposition. But for chrissake, I was only human. I’d spent the past hour tattooing a pretty little cupcake no more than two inches above a place I wanted to bury my face in. I was so screwed. There was no way I’d make it through twenty hours or more of sessions with her half naked in my chair without caving. My resolve had burned away like acid in the past hour.

The shortest time line I could foresee for the back piece was just over two months. That was the best-case scenario.

Armed with Tenley’s folder, I ushered her out of the private room and back to my desk. If I stayed in that room with her any longer, I ran the risk of acting on the thoughts running through my head. Particularly those pertaining to what exactly I would find under her panties. She took a seat as I pulled out her sketch. The amount of time I’d spent working on it over the past few days was ridiculous. I’d added more depth to the wings to play up their iridescent quality and make them appear more fragile. The detail in the fire had been difficult to preserve, but I’d managed it using only the most vibrant colors—a stark contrast to the decimated wings. I waited for her reaction.

She pressed one hand to her mouth and blinked rapidly. When her breath left her, she shuddered. The delicate lines of her face morphed into something alien, void of all emotion. She hated it.

“I have other options,” I said, ready to file away the sketch and pull out a different one. There were three versions.

Tenley put her hand over mine. “It’s perfect. Better than I imagined.” Pain laced her words with a jagged edge. “When can we start?”

Whatever happened to her must have been bad, because she was ready, more ready than I anticipated, to commit this piece to her skin.

“I’d like to see how the new tattoo heals. Then I’ll have a better idea how far apart the appointments should be.” I was sure if I told her I would start right now and work for twenty hours straight as long as I had an intravenous coffee drip, she would agree to it.

“Does that mean I have to wait two weeks?” She withdrew her hand and chewed on one of her raggedly bitten nails. They hadn’t been that bad last week.

“Give or take a few days. Either way, I’m not backing out on you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Promise?” she whispered.

“Look, I’ll check the new ink in a day or two to see how it’s healing,” I reassured her. “If progress is good, we could schedule a tentative appointment for, say, a week and a half from now?”

“Can you check it every other day?” she asked.

“Sure. Every time you work if that’s what you want.” I mentally kicked myself; I’d be seeing a lot of Tenley’s underwear.

“Okay.”

That seemed to placate her. She traced the lines of the design as I flipped through my schedule, looking for a good time to fit her in. Lisa appeared out of nowhere, peering over my shoulder.

“You have space next Tuesday in the evening,” she pointed out.