Page 96 of Show Me How
He moves steadily, showing me how to set the tattoo paper into the machine the proper way, and then slides the design into the upper part. I let the heat of his body roll over me as I watch eagerly, almost excited by the promise of learning more about this line of work. Of learning more about him.
“Alright, now, you just have to hold the tattoo paper as it moves through. Don’t pull too hard, but keep your grip firm,” he instructs, guiding the paper through.
Once it’s done, he takes the paper out and separates the blue sheet from the thin one. The small crown has been transferred onto the thin paper.
“That wasn’t that bad,” I say, still staring at the design.
Shade winks at me before carefully ripping the thin paper and taking the transferred design.
“Hop up on my table, Millie.”
I freeze. “What?”
“Who did you think this was for? Me?” he purrs, suddenly right in front of me.
“I thought you were going to throw it out or something! Not put it on me. I don’t know if I want a tattoo,” I blurt out.
But if that were the case, why am I getting excited?
“Tell me not to do it, then.” It’s almost a dare.
I glance toward his station, expecting to find it empty, but it’s not. He’s left his things out, and the table has been rewrapped. My heartbeat ramps up when I look back at him and our eyes clash.
“Where would it go?” I ask.
A gloved hand takes my wrist, lifting it between us. Then, his thumb sweeps over the inner portion of my wrist.
“Right here.”
“Is it going to hurt?”
“A bit. This part of the body isn’t bad,” he answers honestly.
With a nip to my inner cheek, I start toward the leather bed. Shade’s eyes follow me, clinging to my body. The excitement in my belly only grows, now mixed with the unmissable sensation of confidence.
“Is that a yes?”
I roll my eyes. “Obviously.”
When I hop onto the leather, I throw him a taunting look that sayscome on, then. His mouth curls in a half-cocked grin that should have me running scared but instead keeps me seated, anticipating what he’s about to show me.
This isn’t a lesson, exactly, but it feels the same as every other one has. I’m coiled tight, my breath trying to saw out of my chest so desperately it’s like it wants to be in his instead. Every scuffof his heavy footsteps on the floor as he makes his way to me is another number my temperature rises to.
There isn’t anyone else I’d trust to give me a tattoo, and it’s almost . . . flattering to know that a man as sought after as Shade is offering to give me my first and maybe only one.
But then again, maybe that’s how I’ve felt from the night we met. Grateful that he was there at the bar and that, for some reason, he decided to stick around when others wouldn’t have. And now he’s my friend, and I don’t remember another time in my life where I’ve felt so free to be myself.
That’s the Shade effect, I think. And I’m content living in it for as long as I can.
28
SHADE
Millie’s legsswing beneath the table as I finish applying the small stencil to her wrist and linger a beat longer than necessary. I run the tip of my finger along the curve of her knuckles, hesitating to roll away from her.
Maybe it’s the atmosphere, or some emotion that I don’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole. I can’t decide yet.
“Can you promise that it’s not going to hurt?”
