Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Just as I went to open my mouth, Connor broke in with, “I’ve already decided. I’ll tell you later.”
“Um....” What?
Blaire blinked at me. “You’re letting him choose?” She scoffed then shook her head. “That’s brave, babe.”
“But I’m not,” I told her, then twisted to look at him. “You’re not choosing. I get to choose. It’s my body.”
But Connor simply said, “Sure, I am,” as Blaire applied the stencil paper to his left peck. When she removed it, the transfer that remained was purple. It was a single rose just below his collarbone. I didn’t say a word and he smiled. “Don’t you trust me?”
Disbelieving laughter shot up my throat. “No, not really.”
“That’s weak.” He actually looked wounded at what I’d said. But he tried again. “I swear you’ll like it. I did put some thought into it, you know? Besides,” he said as the needle in Blaire’s hand began to buzz, “Blaire would never let me choose something stupid for you.”
Blaire lifted her head. “This is true. I wouldn’t.”
Okay then.
With a sigh, I couldn’t believe I was allowing this. “If Blaire says it’s good, then—” I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. “—okay. I’ll do it.”
Connor’s foot nudged me and I opened my eyes to look at him. A warm smile graced his beautifully full lips. “You won’t regret it, baby. I promise.”
Forty-five minutes later, Connor’s rose was finished, and when he got up to look at it, he flexed his pecs and my mouth watered. “All right. Nice.” He spun around and spoke directly to Blaire. “You. Let’s design this bitch.”
And so I sat alone for fifteen minutes while Connor explained what he thought should be permanently etched into my skin. I didn’t know if it would be an image or words but Connor seemed pleased with whatever it was, so I kept quiet. He stepped out of the office, beaming. “It’s on.”
Uh oh.
My stomach dipped with nerves.
Then Blaire approached with a small smile. “Although Mr. Clash here would have you believe that you don’t have a choice in this matter, that’s not how I roll. I need you to be sure you want this because if you don’t like it, I’ll just die.”
Blaire was a nice lady. “Do you think I’ll like it?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
That was fair. She didn’t really know me. “Do you like it?”
She made a noise in her throat. “Yeah. I do.”
I peered over at Connor and let out a little sigh. “Okay. Let’s do this.” Connor stepped forward and for a split second, he looked like he wanted to bounce on the spot in excitement. I shook my head. “Where do you want me?”
Blaire adjusted the tattoo chair to lie straight, as if it were a bed, and she patted the top of it. “I just need you to remove your pants and we’re good.”
My pants?
My head snapped up to Connor’s laughing eyes. “It’s going on my butt, isn’t it?”
He nodded and he did this smiling. “That way, if you don’t like it, no one ever has to know about it.”
Despite my anxiety, I actually appreciated the thought. Without a word, I kicked off my shoes, unbuttoned my jeans, and pushed them down my legs before lying on the tattoo bed, face down.
When Blaire put her hand to my thigh, she spoke softly. “Can I pull down your underwear?”
At my nod, she did, and when I felt a light scraping on my right cheek, I frowned. “Are you shaving me?”
Blaire chuckled low in her throat. “It’s just to remove any downy hairs that might make the stencil hard to stick down. It’s also a hygiene thing.” She then added, “I swear you don’t have a hairy ass.”
My body shook with silent laughter. “Well, thank God for small favors.”
Blaire wiped me down with something cold and wet, and then the stencil was applied. It wasn’t too big, so I didn’t freak out. When she removed the sticky paper and had Connor come look at it, he uttered a pleased sounding, “Exactly how I imagined it.”
Before we started, Blaire spoke to me. “I don’t know what your pain threshold is like but if you move while I’m doing this, your tattoo is going to look like shit. You think you can be still for about half hour?”
My chest ached. I didn’t like pain. “I can do that.”
“Nice,” she said with a smile. “Okay. You got this, Emmy.”
Connor watched me carefully as the needle first touched my skin. I frowned then lifted my head to him. “That’s it?”
He laughed. “That’s it.”
It was odd, the sensation. It didn’t feel like I thought it would. It was a scraping-slash-burning sensation but not all bad. I actually kind of liked it. I rested my head back on the bed and claimed, “I can live with this.”
Half an hour passed, the buzzing of the needle stopped and Blaire stated, “And we’re done!” She wiped down my skin. “Wanna see?”