“I haven’t touched that shit in years. I assume you’re getting your goods from Damen.” Her lack of response was enough. “You don’t want to get involved with him. He laces his product, and Tenley’s already got a cabinet full of prescriptions from the accident. I don’t need her developing any problematic habits.” Based on the contents of the cabinet, I couldn’t be sure she didn’t already have one, but I wasn’t going to confide that to Sarah.

She looked shocked, and a little guilty, which was good. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Obviously not.”

The bathroom door opened, and Tenley came out, moving like an eighty-year-old.

“I should go. I’ve got assignments to work on,” Sarah said as Tenley returned to the kitchen.

“Thanks for staying last night, and sorry if I kept you up,” Tenley told her.

Sarah gave Tenley a tentative hug. “Call me if you need anything.”

As nice as the offer was, it was unnecessary. I planned to be available to service all of Tenley’s needs.

Once she was gone, I stroked along Tenley’s arm. “I’d like to wash your back now.”

I took her hand and guided her to the bathroom. If shit hadn’t gone down last night, I would have removed the plastic wrap and cleaned the tattoo before she went to bed. However, things hadn’t gone as planned.

“Where do you want me?” Tenley asked when we were both standing on the black mat covering the tile floor.

There were a variety of answers to that question. I wanted to take her sitting on the vanity, where I could see my art reflected in the mirror and her face close to mine. I wanted to bend her over that same vanity to experience the opposite view. And that was just for starters.

I motioned to the edge of the tub. “There is good.”

Tenley took a seat while I collected items from her linen closet. The navy towels were a safe bet, saving her pale ones from being ruined with ink stains. The first step was to clean off the excess fluids so the tattoo would heal properly. It wasn’t going to feel good.

When I turned around, Tenley had already removed the apron and her shorts. There was no underwear. She sat demurely on the edge of the tub, legs crossed, hands cupping her breasts, the picture of modesty. I gripped the towel in my hand, staring at her naked, perfectly imperfect body, with its scars and markers of past trauma.

“I thought this would make it easier,” she said with apologetic innocence.

“I’m sure you did.”

She reached for the towel in my hand, presumably to cover herself, but I held it out of reach. I dropped down beside her, taking in the soft swell of her bare ass on the white porcelain rim of the tub. I thought the apron and the shorts in the kitchen had been bad. Oh, how wrong I was. Tenley naked and vulnerable and needy was harder to resist. Maybe part of the problem stemmed from the knowledge that what was coming next would be far from pleasurable. Cleaning her tattoo was necessary, but it was also a catch-22. Based on my physical response to seeing her naked with my art on her skin, the weeklong hiatus would be torture. Especially if she was actively seeking to break me. And I couldn’t blame her for trying. Like Lisa had said, emotions were always heightened after a big session. Tenley was obviously no exception to the rule, so it was up to me to stay in check for as long as I could.

I turned on the water and adjusted the showerhead to the rain setting. While the water warmed, I explained the process step by step to eliminate surprises. She nodded or made a little noise of affirmation but remained silent otherwise. Even though I warned her before letting the water hit her back, she still tried to move away from the spray and the unpleasant sensation. TK mewed at me from her place by the door, clearly concerned about the welfare of her soul mate. Causing Tenley pain made me feel like shit, but it was a means to an end for her, one I understood better because of what the piece represented.

Once the residual fluids were washed away, I lathered up the bar of soap. I went slow, going over the easy parts first, working from her shoulder to her hip, one side at a time. Tenley was patient but tense. I leaned in every so often to drop a kiss on her cheek or her neck and tell her how good she was doing.

“I’m really sorry I lied to you,” she whispered when I was almost finished washing the fresh ink.

“I know.” I smoothed the soap over her skin with extra care. It was such an uncomfortable process. I hated the possibility that she might see it as penance for being dishonest.

“I just didn’t want you to say no or make me wait,” she admitted.

I understood what it was like to want to ease the internal suffering. Through experience, I’d learned that letting the physical pain go didn’t take the other stuff with it, including the memories.

“I get your motivation. But I just don’t want you to keep things from me anymore.”

She peeked over her shoulder at me, eyes watery. “That’s a two-way street, Hayden.”

I paused, unwilling to work on the most difficult part until we had this cleared up. “You know how last week you said you didn’t want the past to bog down what we have because it would change the way I see you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s how I feel about the situation you’re referring to. I need time, just like you did. Give me a week and I’ll tell you what you need to know.” I wouldn’t tell her everything, not even close. But I would explain as best I could what my deal with Sienna had been and why she continued to make my life difficult.

“Whatever your relationship was with her, it won’t change how I feel about you now,” Tenley said, stroking her palm over my knee.

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask how exactly she felt about me. But it wasn’t a good time, not with her being so emotional. If she asked me that question, I would have no clue what to say, because the truth was too much, even for me.

“Just so we’re on the same page, what Sarah told me last night in no way changes how I feel about you either. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She seemed to relax a little. I left it at that. I hoped she would still feel the same after I dropped my bomb on her, although what Sienna and I had was never something I would classify as a relationship, no matter what Jamie tried to imply.

Tenley squeezed my knee through the hardest part. It didn’t matter how gentle I was; the scars were hypersensitive, particularly with the amount of trauma I’d subjected them to the previous night. The skin on her arms pebbled as she squirmed, a sure sign the discomfort was extreme. Next time I would start with the worst and end with the easiest.

When it was over, she sat with her fists clenched in her lap, shivering. I patted her back dry with the towel, but her skin was raw and sore, so she twisted away.

“You need to take something to help ease the sting,” I said, draping the towel over her shoulders.

“I already took Tylenol,” she replied.

Her palms rubbed up and down her thighs, nails pressing into her knees, like she wanted to control whatever was going on inside. I didn’t like this. I was used to dealing with my own ink and the discomfort that came with it. For me, the aftermath promised a welcome alternative to my internal discord. But the first one had been harder than the rest. Tenley’s was more than twice the size of my introduction to the after-tattoo burn. I’d been ruined at the time, destroyed by a loss that was my fault, and I relished the pain. Because I deserved it. Tenley was in such a different place, and she didn’t have the kind of chemical escape I’d had. Not that I wanted her to.

I crossed over to the vanity and opened her medicine cabinet. The top two rows were dedicated to prescription bottles. Most of them were at least half full. I checked out the labels, something I hadn’t done before. A few of the names sent up red flags. Most I didn’t recognize.