Bad Intentions (Bad Love #2)(63)

After a while, my right side starts to go numb from lying in the same position, and Dare must notice my squirming, because he stops.

“Let’s take a break. We’re halfway done.” Dare puts his tattoo machine down and snaps his gloves off, tossing them into the trash, before pulling me to a sitting position. The tattoo stings a little, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I stand to stretch my legs, pants still below my ass, and pull my hoodie off over my head. I’m only wearing a thin camisole, but I feel hot and sweaty. Maybe it has something to do with the adrenaline coursing through me.

“Should’ve taken you to the private room,” Dare grumbles. I look behind me to find three sets of eyes on me—Matty, Cordell, and Cordell’s client. All three snap their heads down as if they weren’t looking.

Dare takes my discarded hoodie and ties it around my waist, effectively covering my butt, but not touching the tattooed area. I wonder what I’m supposed to wear when we’re done, but I decide to cross that bridge when we come to it.

Dare grabs a water bottle, taking a swig before handing it to me. I guzzle it down.

“How you feeling?” he asks, rotating back and forth on his rolling chair.

“Fine.” I shrug. “Just wondering how I’m going to wear pants after this.”

“Ah, yeah. That. You’ll just have to skip those for a few days.”

“Oh, is that all?” I laugh.

A smile pulls at the corners of Dare’s lips. “You ready to go back in?”

“Let’s do this.” I untie the sweatshirt around my waist and lie back on my side. Dare slaps a palm against my ass cheek before leaning down to bite it.

I squeal, pushing his head away.

“Sorry. Had to get that out of my system.”

Out of his system. We both know how well that worked last time. The needle hits my skin, and I close my eyes, trying to think about anything other than the pain. It’s hurting more than before now. Almost like scratching a raw sunburn.

“Tell me what you wanted to talk to me about earlier?” I ask, abandoning my plan to let him bring it up.

“What, now?”

“Yes, now. I need a distraction.”

Dare clears his throat. “Did you find a place to stay yet?”

A wave of sadness crashes down on me. I didn’t want to have this conversation right now. “No. The place I wanted fell through.”

“You and Jess should move in with me.”

Well. Ask for a distraction and you shall receive.

“What?” I say, turning my head to face him.

“Easy,” he says. “Try not to move.”

I lie back down, waiting for him to continue as my pulse kicks into high gear.

“It doesn’t have to be like what you’re thinking. You can even have your own room, if you wanted to,” Dare explains.

“As tempting as your offer is, I can’t do that.” My voice is quiet as I focus on the glowing pink light of the Bad Intentions sign in the window.

“Why the fuck not? You need a place to stay. I have the space.”

“Because if things between us ever get…messy, what does that mean for Jess and me?”

“I would never—” Dare starts.

“I know,” I cut him off. “I know. But Jess needs to be able to depend on me. To have stability and consistency and to always know that he has a place to stay.”

“And I can give you guys that. Or you can just stay with me until you find a place.”

“Why are you pushing this?” He’s done enough. The job. The clothes. It feels like all I ever do is take take take from him.

“Aside from the obvious?”

“What’s obvious?” I ask, clueless. The tattoo machine ceases in its buzzing, but I don’t turn to face him.

“The obvious being that you’re my fucking girlfriend and you need a place to live. I don’t want you to run, Lo. Do you think I can’t see it in your eyes? That you’re three seconds from bolting? Because it’s written all over your face.”

The word girlfriend echoes in my head. Is that what I am? His girlfriend? He said he wanted a relationship before, but everyone knows declarations made during sex should be taken with a grain of salt. What he’s saying makes sense, but I still feel like I’m doing something wrong by taking him up on his offer.

“What if I paid rent? Like, with a real written agreement and everything.”

Dare blows out a harsh breath, and I feel it on my exposed skin. “If that’s what you need.”

“I’ll talk to Jess.”

Dare nods his head, wiping down my thigh. Before he starts back up, I roll onto my back and tug him toward me by his sleeve.

“Thank you,” I say, looking into those sad ocean eyes. I reach up and pull him into me, pressing my lips to his. His right hand comes down beside my head to brace himself as he kisses me—slow and deep—uncaring that we most likely have an audience. I feel the kiss right between my legs, and I clamp them together.

Dare pulls back, adjusting the crotch of his pants before sitting back in his chair. He goes back to work on my thigh, and there aren’t any more words. It takes another twenty minutes or so before he announces that he’s finished.

Nerves twist in my stomach as he cleans me up. He helps me sit up before handing me a handheld mirror. I stand, ass facing him instead of flashing the rest of the shop, as I take in the reflection.