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“Let me know when you’re ready.”
I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, but I can’t really go around with half a pair of nipples pierced. Or can I? It’s not like anyone’s been looking at them anyway. My left nipple throbs painfully in a reminder that if I don’t get it over with, I’m never going to do it.
“Okay, go.”
I didn’t realize he was right there, literally waiting on my word. Because as soon as I saygo,another sharp slice of pain lances through me, centered at my right nipple. My insides tighten, stilling in the tense state as I breathe through the pain.
Why the hell did I want to do this again? Fuck if I know.
But when I look down at my nipples, at the thin silver bars now adorning each one, they’re… Sexy. Beautiful. And kind of badass. Just like I hoped they’d be. I briefly wonder if Jude would think so, too, and heat rushes through my cheeks with the thought.
A loud clap startles me from the daydream I’ve painted in my mind. “Alright. You want to check them out in the mirror? See what you think?”
Nodding, I come to a stand and walk over to the mirror, looking at my nipples—pink and pierced and looking pretty amazing, even being tender, sore, and throbbing like hell. “Wow. I love them. Thank you.” Genuine awe laces my tone.
“It was my pleasure,” he replies, and then he’s diving into all the aftercare instructions, sending me off with a few saline pads, and refusing to let me pay since I came here with Jude because he happens to be the owner’s brother. I give him my payment as a tip anyway.
Waving goodbye to Bianca, my nipples aching, I head outside, where Jude is pacing along the sidewalk in front of the shop.
“Hey.” I still him with a hand to his bicep. “Are you okay? Why do you seem so mad?”
He laughs, but it’s a dark, sardonic sound. “If I had to watch Paul touch your tits one more time, I was going to deck him. I still want to deck him. And I’ve known him since we were kids. Ilikethe guy, Declan.”
I breathe out a laugh with a racing heart. “What—why?”
“Why… Why…” he repeats, stretching out the words. His palms are pressed together, his fingers meeting his lips as he skims over his thoughts. “Because, Declan, I don’t exactly enjoy the thought of another man touching you. Let alone seeing it right in front of my face.”
My mouth opens and closes and opens again. “You… What?”
He steps closer, until he’s right in my space. Toe to toe. Chest to chest. “You need me to spell it out for you? Because I will.”
“No, I… I don’t. But I just—I mean, yeah. I’m not sure I’m following. You’re being kind of ridiculous. It’s the man’s job to touch people’s body parts.” That’s not exactly the way I meant for it to come out, but it doesn’t make it untrue either way.
He grasps my face in his palms, burying his stare beneath mine. “It isn’t a fucking secret that I’m into you, Declan. I want to be the one seeing you. I want to be the one touching you. Fucking desperately.” He says it with such need in words, it makes my insides ache. Warmth spreads through me, weaving through and settling in my core. The apex of my thighs throbs in response to his words, to the heated look in his eyes. “But I need you to tell me it’s okay to do so. I need to know you’re ready for that. That you’re open to it. That you’re not going to shut me down or go fucking running.”
Oh. Wow. Holy hell. Just like that. His feelings spilled at my feet, completely mirroring mine.
And he did it so easily.
“I sort of thought we were—casually slipping into something more,” is what I choose to say; as honest as it is, I know it wasn’t the right thing to say almost immediately.
He sears me with his heated stare, and I feel singed to the spot. “Casual?Casual,she says.” He spins on his heel, pacing the length of the tattoo shop, turning in a full three-sixty before he pins me with his stare again. “There is no casual with you, Declan,” he growls, and the sound slips from between his clenched teeth. “Don’t you get that?”
“What are you saying?” I breathe. I want to be sure. No, I need to be sure, because we’ve been dancing over so many lines but keeping firmly behind others, and my mind is a jumbled mess of questions right now.
“I’m not willing to risk our friendship. It—you—mean too fucking much to me.” Oh. “Unless we’re both sure it will mean something more.”
“Something more?” I swallow, but my throat is dry and sticks together uncomfortably.
He moves back into my space, a firm hand at my jaw. “Something more, Declan. More than my mouth on yours. More than a taste. More than a touch. More than a fuck. More than a whim, or a passing fucking desire. More than an exploration without the fucking intention of exploring what’s deeper. A relationship, Little D. You being mine—no fucking takebacks.”
My entire body is livewire of heartbeats.
Terrified. Elated. Excited.
Vulnerability rages in his gaze, torrent with emotion, and it tugs at the emotions within me, taking them to new heights as I fall deeper into his stare.
The higher the climb, the harder the fall,anxiety reminds me, but I strap on a metaphorical parachute and jump anyway.