“No, I’m not.”
I huff out a laugh and shake my head. “Yeah, okay. Chelsea wanted to meet up with this guy who owns a tattoo-and-piercing shop, but she wanted to go after hours because she had a crush on him, and she didn’t want my detail to follow us. Which, in hindsight, was probably a good call because I didnotneed my guys seeing my nipples being pierced.”
“Christ.”
“Anyway, she decided that we both should get tattoos. Not necessarily matching ones, but still have them done on the same night.”
I’m running out of boxes to open, and then I’m going to have to look at him, and I really don’t want to do that.
“I didn’t want a tattoo. It’s not that I would never get one, or have issues with them in any way. I love yours.”
I glance over and take in the sleeve that runs down his left arm.
Yeah, those are hot as shit.
“But I was only nineteen, and there wasn’t really anything I could think of to put on my skin for the rest of my life. A unicorn? No. A heart? Stupid. They had some premade designs that they tried to push on me, but nothing spoke to me.”
“It’s your fucking choice, Lena.”
“Exactly, so I said no thanks. No ink for me on that night. And I felt guilty for giving the guys the slip, like always, and Chelsea was annoying the hell out of me. The girl doesn’t know how to take no for an answer. She just keeps badgering and poking and won’t let up. Then, the guy mentions that I could get something pierced, since that’s not permanent if I don’t want to keep it. I could always take it out.”
I bite my lip, remembering how pressured I felt that night. I hated being there.
“And you chose your nipples.”
“I didn’t want it on my face, and there was no way in hell he was getting anywhere near my pussy.”
He swears some more.
“So yeah. I had the nipples done. And you know what? I like them.”
I turn and see his gaze whip over to mine in surprise.
“I thought I’d end up taking them out, but once they healed, which took a long-ass time, I liked them. I don’t love the way I got them, but I’m definitely keeping them.” I peek over at him.
“Why would this make me mad?”
“Because it was the night you got called back to DC after being gone for a few weeks.My nipplesruined your life that week, and I feel really bad.”
He’s quiet for a minute, and then he takes a deep breath and shakes his head.
“Never a dull moment with you, Rebel.”
He doesn’t look mad.
If anything, he looks a little ... turned on.
“I’ll help clean this mess up.” I stare at the pile of boxes and wrappings as if it’s Christmas. “I just sort of tossed stuff around.”
“Go put your new clothes in the wash. I’ve got this.”
But I shake my head and dig in, helping him, and within five minutes we have the boxes broken down and everything else in a big trash bag, and we’re carrying it all out to his truck so he can haul it away later. We work silently, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence.
I just wish I knew what he was thinking.
“Do you mind showing me where the laundry room is?”
“Sure. Come on.”
