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.”
12
HAYDEN