“That’s the last thing I want. Stick pins in me.”
She huffed a little laugh. “Enjoying the pain?”
“‘Enjoy’ is a bit strong. But it’s not bad. It’s… it feels right.”
“Okay, Tobes.”
His heart surged at the return of his old nickname, and when the stinging sensation resumed, he found he could keep talking. “The vet said she might be better off... but fuck that. They also said she could make a full recovery, so I booked her first operation. The thing that kills me is she’s still in pain, and there’s gonna be more before it gets better. I wish I could explain it to her. Make her understand, but she looks at me with these big sad eyes… it would be easier if she were angry, snapping at me, you know? But she just looks so hurt…”
Tabby made a soft noise.
“Hey,” he said. “It’ll be okay. The doc thinks she could have another five years after this, and she’s a brave girl.”
“She is. She’s gonna be great. And you know you can have her here while we ink. I don’t mind if you have to break to give her injections. I’d love to see her.”
He smiled up at the ceiling. “Sure. Next time, she’ll be here.”
“Awesome.”
Tabby bent over her work, and he watched her, wishing he could force away all the tension between them like a gauze curtain. Just be honest and ask her if she still thought of him. If she replayed the hours they’d spent in her bed over and over when she couldn’t sleep. If she missed walking the dogs and talking about WWE and the stars and whether people were fundamentally good or evil. Not wanting to push things too fast, he decided it didn’t matter if he texted Maisy. At worst, Tabby would think he was texting someone he was sleeping with, get jealous and storm out. But at best, Tabby would think he was texting someone he was sleeping with, get jealous and finally admit she wanted him.
Things with Tabs are okay. I think she’s about to wrap up, though. Thanks for the photo.
Maisy’s response came almost instantly.
ASK HER TO STAY FOR A DRINK, YOU COWARD!!!
He glanced down at Tabby, who was still almost smiling.
Fine. But if I get shot down, I’m blaming you, he said.
Lunch with the girls at Nello tomorrow. We EXPECT you there.
Grinning, he confirmed he’d be there for bottomless wine and a dissection of how this had all gone. When he hit send, he noticed Tabby watching him, eyes narrowed. He considered telling her about Maisy, but knowing what would help or hurt him was hard.
“Look, I’m almost done,” Tabby said, bowing her head again. “I went faster than I thought. Plus, my hand’s cramping.”
“Sounds good.” He glanced at the marble bar Maisy had set up in the corner.Ask her to stay for a drink. Just do it…
Tabby turned off her machine and reached for a plastic tub of something. She opened it to reveal a greasy substance and smeared it over his tattoo. He pretended to take in the skeleton of her design, but really, he watched her hands move across his arm, those delicate fingers adorned with bumblebee tattoos. He imagined her gripping his cock, working it slowly as she knelt in front of him, her mouth open and ready to taste…
Seconds passed, and she continued to stroke the oily stuff across his muscles, up and back and in small circles. Toby didn’t know much about tattoo maintenance, but her cheeks were flushed. His cock jolted against his thigh, and he forced himself to look away, willing himself not to fuck this up. “So… you wanna stay for a drink?”
She didn’t say no, but she didn’t say anything else. She just stopped rubbing his arms and pulled out a roll of what looked like cling film.
“Second Skin,” Tabby said, stretching it over his tattoo. “It’ll hold still like a sticker. You can shower and stuff with it on, but don’t scrub it and don’t pick at it.”
“Sure.”
She collected a pair of scissors and cut the Second Skin away from the roll. It was lighter than he thought. Barely perceptible. The faint stinging in his arm was nothing compared to the ache working its way through his chest and groin. He was hard now, his cock straining at his chinos like it was trying to reach Tabby of its own accord. Once, he would have died of embarrassment, but that flush was still in Tabby’s cheeks, her eyes flicking from his chest to his mouth, then away again. The heat inside him intensified, and he remembered the way she’d ridden him in her bed, her teeth worrying at her lower lip as she moaned his name…
Tabby stepped back, still scanning his chest and abs. “So, we’re done.”
He sat up on the massage table, shaking out his stiff shoulders. “Thanks. I’ve got tequila, by the way.”
Her gaze fell to the seat of his pants. “And a hard-on.”
If he needed more proof that he’d changed, it was being able to grin at her and say, “Can you blame me?”
