Cam sensed something and slipped away, muttering something about setting up a second station.
I motioned toward the back. “You still want it?”
“Yeah.”
“Even if I’m the one doing it?”
She looked up at me. No hesitation. “Especially if you’re the one doing it.”
Fuck. I led her to my chair, heart pounding, palms damp. I’d done a hundred first-time tattoos. But this… this was different. This was her.
She sat down and peeled off her jacket, exposing the inside of her forearm, soft skin that hadn’t been inked yet. She held it out, trusting, like I hadn’t ghosted her after the best night ofmylife. Even if we both said no strings.
I sat beside her and grabbed a pair of gloves, forcing my voice to stay even. “You ever gotten a tattoo before?”
She shook her head. “Nope. This is my first.”
I already knew that, but I didn’t know what else to fucking say. I reached for the stencil. “Alright. I’m gonna clean the area, and then we’ll transfer the design. You’ll get a look at it first, and you can tell me if you want anything changed.”
She nodded, quiet now, her eyes on me. Watching. I cleaned her skin and shaved the area, then pressed the stencil on. The shape of the bike and the soft curve of the sun wrapping around the wheel like it belonged there. She stared down at it, fingers lightly tracing the edge.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered.
“Mya,” I said, meeting her eyes again. “Are you sure you want this?”
She nodded again.
“And are you sure you want me to be the one to do it?”
She reached up and gently brushed her thumb across the stubble on my jaw. A tiny, intimate touch that knocked the wind out of me. “I came here thinking about you,” she said. “Telling myself that this tattoo meant more than justyoubut about the night and how brave I was. But now you’re here. So yeah, Nick. I want you to do it.”
I swallowed hard and turned to prep the needle, trying to focus on the process, on anything but how close her skin was or how the scent of her shampoo still made my stomach twist in the best way.
“Okay,” I said, flipping the switch and letting the machine buzz to life.
Her eyes flicked to mine. A beautiful smile that covered half her face, and I was tempted to kiss her. To feel her lips on mine again. I cleared my throat, blinking away that memory, and then tried my hardest to be professional.
“Tell me if it gets to be too much,” I murmured.
“I will.”
The first lines were clean and steady. My hand didn’t shake, even though my heart fucking did. I walked her through everything. How the needle would feel, what the vibration would be like, and how to breathe through the sting. She never flinched. She just watched me do it. Each step.
Halfway through, I glanced up. Her lips were parted, her eyes watery.
“You alright?” I asked quietly.
“I’m good,” she whispered, breath catching just slightly. “But you definitely weren’t lying about liking to cause pain.”
I could tell it wasn’t the pain getting to her. It was something else, something in her head I recognized all too well. And I knew. I could lie to myself all I wanted, tell myself I didn’t need more. That I wasn’t a selfish bastard for craving her like this again. But none of it mattered. One night was never going to be enough. And we both knew it.
Seven
Mya
The tattoo needle buzzed softly, but I barely heard it anymore. All I could feel was him, his touch, the heat of his palm resting against my skin to steady me, and the way he kept glancing up at me like he still couldn’t believe I was here and could disappear if he looked away too long.
He was so careful. I could tell he’d done this a thousand times before, but with me? It felt like he was learning all over again. I watched his brow furrow, his tongue pressing slightly to the side of his cheek as he filled in a section of the sun. God, he was beautiful. And when he wasn’t looking, I let myself drink him in. Same hands. Same voice. Same wreckage in his eyes. But different too. Like something about seeing me again knocked loose a piece of himself he thought he’d buried.
