She runs her index finger lightly, curiously, over my skin, tracing the designs. It feels really,reallynice, and my breath catches.Shit.Hope she missed that.
“Nice,” she comments lightly, “any more?” She looks up at me in a way that makes my pants tighten. Man alive, this is hot.
I laugh through my nose because it’s a little more audible that way, and once again start typing on my tablet.That’s for me to know and you to wonder, I guess. There’s no way I’m going to show her the ink I have under my shirt, on my back and shoulders and chest. Or my other arm. She’d have questions, and I don’t want to answer them, or even hear them.
And I don’t want her to see my scars, either.
But joining in with her flirting is irresistible fun, and I’d never normally let myself indulge, but…just this once…I just want to enjoy the anticipation sizzling along my veins.
She giggles as she reads my reply. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.” Some pretty lengthy eye contact stretches out, and I can’t seem to tear myself away from her dark blue gaze.
Just exactly like what used to happen between Em and Eli.
Holy shit.
“OK, it’s settled.” She turns in her chair again, glancing over her shoulder at me once more. The position is undeniably suggestive, sending my brain spinning towards mental images that make me press my lips together, trying to avoid her noticing how my breath is coming a little faster. “Could you do me a favor and zip me up, please?” Her head turns away and she waits patiently, leaving me staring at her bare back with that goddamn bra catch winking at me.
Be cool, I order myself. Be fucking cool. You do this all the time for all she knows.
Carefully avoiding touching her skin, and refusing to think about the warmth from her skin, I grasp her zipper tab and pull it up as quickly and smoothly as I can.Christ, this feels intimate. So new. So heady. I’m definitely going to think about this later when everyone else is asleep.
“Thanks,” she says as she straightens herself up, all casual, like nothing even happened. I’m not a hundred percent sure I can get a handle on her, whether she’s flirting for real or whether this is just how she rolls, and that’s unsettling. And interesting. “How long do you anticipate this will take from start to finish?”
I wave my flat hand side to side in the universal symbol for ‘ehh’, and consider the photo she showed me. Kind of want to take my time and make this last, if I’m honest, so I hold up five fingers, and then shrug and hold up six before spellingS-E-S-S-I-O-N-S,and then hold up two fingers,H-O-U-R-S E-A-C-H.Five or six appointments, set at two week intervals to allow for healing, should be plenty. Assuming she can handle the needle OK. And I’ve decided to charge her a fixed fee no matter how long I take, rather than by the hour.
She nods. “I’m good with that. So, when are you free for session one? Now I’ve made the decision, I’d like to get cracking.” She’s beaming with enthusiasm, and it’s infectious. I can’t wait, either.
I grab my tablet again.Emily will be able to sort that. I may have had a cancellation, hopefully? Her smile grows as she reads.
I don’t know what makes me do it - I didn’t even think about it beforehand - but I offer her my hand to help her up, like a reflex action. She’s perfectly capable. She doesn’t need my help. And yet, there’s my hand, outstretched. I almost pull it back, feeling like such a tool, but she takes it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Her fingers are ink stained, like maybe a pen exploded while she was filling pages with interesting ideas. They’re soft, warm, and dry, and I can’t help but enjoy holding her hand for a few brief seconds. I try a very rarely used smile, one that belongs to a cousin of Leo Mills. A confident player with the world at his fingertips.
She meets my gaze just as confidently, but hers is not an act. She’s not given to blushing, clearly. I can’t say the same for myself, if the heat flooding my face is any indication. So much for the ‘player’.
When we head through to reception, Emily is just hanging up the phone. She smiles as she greets us, and I am so thankful that she’s picked up so much ASL over the past few months.
Don’t talk aloud, please just sign. She frowns slightly, then nods once.Has anyone cancelled an appointment with me over the next few days?
She bites her lip.Sorry, you’re booked solid for the next… She pauses as she checks her laptop screen.Eight and a half weeks. She gives me an apologetic look, and Liaden a discreetly curious one.
Shit.
I make a snap decision.Book her in after hours. Six sessions, with two weeks in between each one. I can lock up on those nights.
Emily blinks at me. I’m not surprised. It’s always been an unshakeable boundary of mine that Ineverdo out of hours appointments. The one and only time I did, I had a flashback, and ended up hiding under my table shaking and puking on myself while the client stared helplessly.Mortifying. Still, I haven’t done that in a long time, and I think I should be OK. I mean, I very much doubt she’s going to bring a submachine gun to her appointment, or tie me to a chair and make me listen to Huey Lewis and the News.
Em’s a total champ and doesn’t give me away or grill me any further, though I can tell from the looks she gave me that I’m getting the third degree on the way home this evening.If you’re sure, no worries,she tells me, and I nod once.
Eli’s going to hear about this, too. And he’ll probably have his phone in his hand during all of Liaden’s appointments, waiting for my text that I’m OK or that I need help.
Liaden herself looks captivated, watching our hands as we talk. Professional curiosity, I guess. I give her an apologetic look; we’ve been holding a conversation that involves her, but excludes her entirely.
Em puts her professional hat on and takes over the situation. “So, we can offer you after hours appointments after six p.m, if that suits you? Or do you really need a daytime slot?” She flicks her eyes to me briefly.
“Oh, if evenings are available, that would actually be better for me,” Liaden replies, and I breathe out a silent sigh of relief. “Any night except Tuesdays are fine for me.”
I’m standing here like a lemon, and I decide to tap out before I slip up and make an ass of myself. I give both of them a querying thumbs up as I walk backwards towards the door. I don’t have to turn away for a few seconds; might as well make the most of them, I think, as she tucks her hair behind her ear and arranges appointment times. God, she really is gorgeous.
“Nice to meet you, Dean,” she says in a friendly sing-song voice before glancing back at me with a sparkly smile. I like the sound of my name in her voice. I like it a lot.
