Page 2 of Molly

“You’re my first customer, you know? Just finished getting everything set up yesterday,” he says. I stare at his mouth, watching every word come out. “You okay, Molly? You nervous?”

I snap out of my trance and shake my head a little.God,I’msuchadork.

“Sorry, too much coffee, not enough sleep. I’m a bit out of it today.” I gesture to the stain on my top, and he chuckles. “This is my first tattoo. I’m not really sure what to expect. Needles don’t bother me, so I’ll be fine... right?”

He looks me up and down, slowly, appreciatively. A sense of power washes over me. I know I’m relatively attractive, but after having a nine-pound baby and still carrying some extra weight from it, it feels incredible to have a gorgeous man look at me like that. I follow his gaze down, realising he’s staring at my chest. The girls have seen better days after breastfeeding for a year, but my push-up bra is doing its job, so they’re looking good.

His eyes trail back up and eventually meet mine, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.“Come on, gorgeous, you’ll be ‘right. I’ll be real gentle,” he says, taking a step forward and placing his hand on my lower back. My blood heats from the contact and his clean, crisp cologne invades my senses.

He leads me past the counter and down the narrow hallway. We pass two other doorways before stopping at a third room. Using the hand still resting on my back, he nudges me forward. I step into the room, my arm grazing his hard body. The first thing that hits me is the smell. It’s sterile, and even though it’s strong, I assume it’s a good thing this place is so clean.Ryan’s room is fairly simple; small, and the walls are all white. There’s a long, black leather chair in the centre with a stainless-steel tray holding his equipment next to it. I try not to linger on the tattoo gun sitting on top for too long.

The desk that’s pushed up against the wall matches the front counter and has a low stool sitting underneath it, but just like the walls, it has no personal touches. As I walk further into the room, I catch my reflection in the full-length frameless mirror hanging next to another leather chair in the corner.

“This room is so...bare. You didn’t want to hang anything on the walls?” I ask curiously, turning back to face Ryan, who's still lingering by the door, watching me explore.

He shakes his head and looks around before saying, “Nah, I get distracted easily, wanted to keep this room as minimal as possible to keep me focused. That’s why I decked out the front of the shop.”

“Oh, that makes sense, I guess.” I smile awkwardly.

He nods and takes a few steps forward. “Alright, you can either lay down on this bad boy.” He taps the chair in the middle of the room. “Or you straddle the chair in the corner, your choice,” he says, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“I’ll take the chair.” I gulp.

He nods, grabs it, and drags it to my side. “Jump on,” he says with a wink.

I huff out a laugh and swing my leg over, sitting down.

He crouches in front of me, reaches under the seat, and his warm breath hits my thigh. He hovers, frozen in place for what feels like a full minute, before taking a deep breath and pulling up an armrest. He stands quickly and spins around. “Alright, love. Pop your wrist up there for me. I’m just going to grab your stencil. I’ll be right back.”

I watch him leave, openly staring at his ass while his back is turned, when my phone vibrates in my back pocket. I pull it out and chuckle to myself as I read.

PENNY: Good luck, Mumma. Hope you scored a hottie. Tattoo artists are always yummy ;)

Just as I go to reply, Ryan walks back into the room, stencil in hand.

Words wouldn’t do his appearance justice... Maybe a photo?

He sits back down on his stool and brings the paper up to my wrist to position it. I still have my phone in my hand, so I quickly open the camera, hoping to take a sneaky picture while he’s preoccupied.

“So, you want it about here?” he asks, hovering the stencil above my wrist.

“Mhmm, yep, that’s good,” I mumble, fiddling around, trying to get the right angle without being obvious.

I watch as his jaw clenches in concentration. Along the side of his neck, an incredibly detailed dove is etched into his skin. Its wings spread out and fade into his perfectly groomed stubble. I tap my phone screen without thinking, and a flash of light takes us both by surprise. Ryan’s head pops up, his eyes wide.

JesusChrist.

My cheeks must be beet-red, going by how hot they feel.

His expression turns from confusion to amusement in an instant. “Did you just...”

“Nope,” I snap, shaking my head.

“I’m pretty sure you did, Mo-”

“No. I didn’t. It was an accident. I was messing around with my phone, and it just happened.”

Slowly, his smile turns into a full-blown grin, and then he bursts into a fit of laughter, throwing his head back.

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