“I have a small tattoo,” I admitted.

“Where?”

“On my hip, but it wasn’t professionally done.” I rushed to explain. “I got it a few years ago, for my eighteenth birthday.” He’d gone eerily still. It made me nervous.

“I’d like to see it.” He rolled his chair back, putting space between us.

“Right here?” I looked around the studio. There were customers in the shop, and the tattoo sat pretty low on my hip.

“Would you prefer privacy?” I couldn’t understand how he managed to make something that should have come off as a reasonable offer for discretion sound so sensual.

“That might be best.”

Unmoving, he stared at me for a protracted moment before he led me to one of the private rooms and closed the door. “Let’s take a look then.”

I could feel the flush in my cheeks as I popped the button on my pants and lowered the zipper. I flipped over the waistband, thankful I’d had the foresight to wear nice underwear. My bra matched, but that was beside the point. It wasn’t like he would get a chance to see it. I pushed my underwear out of the way, but the tiny black heart remained covered. Embarrassed, I shimmied my jeans down farther, finally exposing the old, poorly done tattoo.

Hayden crouched in front of me, putting him at eye level with the tattoo. He inspected it closely, and I became aware of just how low it sat. Maybe Connor’s anger had had less to do with the tattoo and more to do with the placement.

“Who the hell did this?” He ran his thumb over the faded ink, frowning.

The tattoo had hurt when I’d had it done, but now Hayden’s touch made me conscious of a different kind of ache centered between my thighs. It grew with the prolonged sweep of his thumb, back and forth. He looked up at me, waiting. Right. He’d asked a question.

“A friend of mine. It was stupid, really. He did it in his basement.”

“He what?” Now he sounded livid.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” I replied. His hair kept falling in his eyes and he kept blowing it out of the way, puffing out gusts of air. Every time he did, it would flop back in place, covering his left eye. I ran my fingers through the disobedient strands. It was soft. I wanted to do it again.

One of Hayden’s hands was on my hip, holding me steady, while the other was still touching my tattoo. He froze. I dropped my hand, and his hair flipped forward in rebellion.

“Sorry.”

He unfurled out of his crouch with a fierce expression. “Don’t apologize for touching me.”

Hayden was close, invasively so. There was so much raw heat occupying the space around him that it was hard to breathe. I felt enveloped by him. He was always so tightly wound, buzzing with pent-up energy. I imagined when he let it out it was a sight to behold.

“Sorry.”

He gave me a look.

“For apologizing. It won’t happen again.” I bit the inside of my lip to stop from smiling.

We stared at each other, some strange shift taking place. I wasn’t sure what was happening between us, but it felt like whatever our tentative friendship was transforming into, the process wasn’t reversible. Like a chemical reaction, there was no going back once the catalyst had been added.

“I can fix this. I can cover it up.” His thumb moved over the tattoo again, reminding me how close it truly was to places I shouldn’t be fantasizing about Hayden touching.

“It’s not necessary.”

“Fuck that noise. This tattoo is a travesty. If I’m putting more ink on you anyway, we might as well start by covering over this one.” He took a small step back. “And for future reference, this is your hip.” He tapped the spot four inches diagonally to the right, then swept his finger down to the heart. “And this is about an inch shy of your pelvis.”

“Thanks for the anatomy lesson.” I went for sarcasm, but it came out sounding wanton. An anatomy lesson from Hayden would be unforgettable, I was sure.

“For you? Anytime.” He looked dangerously serious. “Now can I fix this shit or what?”

My hesitation was short-lived. Covering over the old tattoo might help erase some of the bad memories associated with it. I wouldn’t have that painful reminder of Connor’s disapproval anymore. “Fine, but you have to do it tonight, because I want to get the back piece under way as soon as possible.”

“Do you really think you can order me around?” He crossed his arms over his chest in a show of dominance.

“I have more cupcakes in my apartment. You can have them if you fix this tonight.”

“Are you trying to bribe me?”

“Is it working?”

“Yes.”

“Great, let’s do it.” I clapped my hands together with genuine enthusiasm. Even if it was a small tattoo, Hayden would be touching me for an extended period of time.

“What do you want?”

Hayden had mentioned a ladybug last time. Those brought back memories of my mother, not all of which were necessarily good. “Um . . . I don’t know. Maybe I could look at one of your albums.”

“I have a better idea.” He held up a finger and left the room.

When he came back he was holding a file folder with my name artfully scrawled across the front. He slid out a piece of paper; on it were a number of small sketches. There were several blossoms in various shades of pink, all of which were beautiful. But what grabbed my attention was the adaptation of the cupcake drawing he’d gone crazy over when I’d first showed him my design.

“When do I get to see my sketch?” I asked, wanting assurance he wasn’t putting it off indefinitely.

“Right after I fix your botched home brew.”

He was way too complacent. But then he must have planned it this way, coercing me into a small tattoo in order to see the design I wanted.

I pointed a finger at him. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said with contrived innocence.

“I could still talk to Chris about this,” I threatened, moving toward the door. It irked me that he tried to manipulate me, and that part of me enjoyed the manipulation.

That sobered him. “Settle down there, kitten.” Hayden threaded his fingers through mine and pulled me close, the intimacy unexpected. He was such a contradiction–hard one minute, soft to the point of vulnerability the next.

“I need to make sure you’re serious and that you can handle this. You’re asking for a lot of ink. Usually there’s a story behind something so significant, but you don’t seem all that keen to tell it.” When I stayed silent, he gave me a wry smile. “I want to be the one who puts it on you. So if you’ll let me fix the tattoo you have, I’ll feel better about inking your entire back.”

“You’re manipulative.”

My threat to go to Chris was empty. I wanted it to be Hayden as much as he seemed to want the same. Part of the draw came from Hayden’s ability to ease the ache inside with his presence alone. I craved the hours of relief that would come from being near him. I wanted a chance to heal, to transfer what was inside onto my skin.

“And you’re cute when you’re mad. Now drop your pants.” He stepped back and waved his hand in the direction of my crotch.

“Pardon?” I blushed, and then blushed some more.

“Your pants, they’re in the way. I can’t work on you like that.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“You’re asking me for a full back tattoo. Which means you’re going to be naked from the waist up, alone with me in a room, for the better part of twenty hours, and you’ve got hang-ups about dropping trou’ for a little one above your pubic bone?”

“Can I leave my underwear on?”

His brow furrowed, and then he laughed. “I don’t need you to take them off, I just need them below your hips so I have enough room to work. Unless you want to take them off. I’m not opposed.”

“Of course you’re not.” Considering how fitted they were, getting my pants over my hips took some effort, even though the button was loose and the zipper was down. My underwear and half my butt were on display. I didn’t think I could be any more embarrassed. I sat down in the tattooing chair, hoping I had given Hayden enough room to work without putting on a show.