Losing It

I clear my throat. “I have to go too.” I reach for an excuse. “Some Like it Hot is about to start on TCM.”

“You own it on DVD.”

Okay, that is true.

“And you always say it’s overrated.”

“I do not.”

“Oh my God, you do. I have all your movie opinions memorized. Because I hear them every Christmas when you and Mom debate your favorite old stars.”

That might be true.

“You’re thinking something about him,” Owen says.

“About his massive cock.”

“Since when do you say cock?”

“Since now.”

“Is it really massive?”

“Goodbye, Owen.”

“Tease.”

“Goodbye!”

“Do me one favor, Q.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fall in love with him.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Wes

“How much will it hurt?” Shanon sinks her teeth into her lip. Her eyes get big. Nervous.

She’s a lot like Quinn.

A goth version of Quinn. Jet-black hair. Sky-high boots. Low pain tolerance.

Ironic, a girl who looks like she’s into whips and chains can’t handle a needle.

But facades drop fast in the chair.

Hard to keep up the I’m a badass front when you’re whimpering over ink.

Not that I’m judging.

I’m a wimp when it comes to a new tattoo. That shit fucking hurts.

“You have anything else pierced?” I motion to her ears.

She clears her throat. “Anything like—”

She does. Fuck. My mind goes straight to the gutter. Not sure which I see more for Shanon—nipples or clit.

Fuck, I can’t even imagine how badly that would hurt.

Dean never tires of bringing up his Prince Albert.

But, God, why?

“Less than that.” I slide tape over the stencil. Press it to her skin.

Her eyes go straight to her wrist. “I passed out.”

“No.”

“Yeah.” Her cheeks flush. “The piercer said he almost tore off my nipple.”

That answers that question.

My cock stirs at the thought of her metal stud.

But my head skips over the image of Shanon naked.

Goes straight to Quinn.

Gorgeous hazel eyes. Thick glasses. Soft lips.

Fuck, I’m not even thinking about her tits.

And they’re perfect tits.

“A lot less.” I shrug my shoulders. Remind myself I’m supposed to be setting my client at ease, not fantasizing about my… pupil. “I promise.”

“What if it’s too much?”

“You’ll look like a fool with memento and no mori.”

She laughs. “Can you imagine? Just remember?”

“You could write something different every day.”

“Oh God.” She shakes her head. “Horrible.”

“Remember to brush.”

She laughs. “Remember to eat your veggies.”

“Remember to call your mom.”

She laughs. “Lots of possibilities.”

“You change your mind?” I tap the stencil with my gloved finger. “Want to lose the mori?”

Her lips curl into a smile as she shakes her head.

I check the tape on her wrist. It’s there. We’re ready. If she’s ready. “You want me to start with the least or most painful part?”

Shanon bites her lip. She looks up at me, her dark eyes big and vulnerable. “Most. I think. That way, the worst is over.”

“I’d do the same.”

She nods with all the trust in the world.

“You survived your tits. You’ve got this.”

“Okay. Sure. Yeah.” She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “My friend was right.”

“You have a friend?”

She nods and mentions a woman I tattooed last month. “She said you’re really calming.”

“Do what I can.”

“And that you’re cute.”

I shoot her a fuck me smile.

Her anxiety fades to desire. Then her eyes go to the gun and her nerves return.

I know how to keep her mind occupied.

It just…

It feels weird now.

Like I’m betraying Quinn.

Which is silly. All the guys here flirt. Well, the ones who are the flirting type. Chase would never stoop so low.

Where the fuck is he anyway?

This morning’s text—You have to stop cleaning up after Mom or she’s never going to get better. We’ll talk today. Dad is stopping by the shop—is still burning a hole in my pocket.

Sure, I bailed on Quinn to keep Mom from driving drunk.

I made sure Mom wasn’t a fucking mess.

But what else could I do?

Being older doesn’t make Chase wiser.

He’s so unforgiving he’s without a single close friend or lover.

He’s the one with fucked-up priorities.

“Guilty as charged.” I open the ink pad and dip the needle. “You ready?”

“No. But go anyway.”

“On three?”

She nods. “Yeah. Sure.”

I borrow Hunter’s old trick. “One.” I turn the gun on. “Two.” I bring it to her skin.

She yelps. “Fuck.” Her eyes go to mine. “Asshole.”

“Not so bad, huh?”

She bites her lip. “It’s uh…” Her breath is shallow. “Not as bad as the other thing.”

“Deep inhale for me, Shanon.”

She stares at me like I’m crazy.

The way Quinn does.

But it feels different.

It’s hard to explain.

It’s just so obvious she’s not Quinn.

She’s sexy, stylish, vulnerable.

And distinctly not Quinn.

“I want to hear it.” I trace the m. “Like an entire yoga class.”

“You do yoga?”

“Hell yeah. Chicks dig limber dudes.”

Her laugh eases the tension in her brow. “I’ve never heard that.”

“You’ve been missing out.”

“Oh?” Her eyes trace a line down my body. Stop at the tattoo peeking out from my t-shirt.

That’s always where they stop.

I’m not sure if I’m appreciative or irritated.

I mean, I did choose the chest piece.

I do love it.