Looking for Trouble(57)
Once he was sitting between Dylan’s legs, ready to begin, he asked, “How are you with pain?”
“Terrible. It hurts, and I don’t like to hurt. Did I forget to mention that?”
“Trouble!”
“What? I’ll survive. People get tattoos all the time. I want this.” Clay groaned, and Dylan continued, “You’ll take care of me.”
“Way to put the pressure on. Nothing I do will stop it from hurting.”
“I trust you.”
“Even more pressure!” he teased. Then…then he leaned in, kissed Dylan, tasted both his sweetness and his sassiness on his lips. “I’ll always do my best by you.”
“I know you will.”
The needle went through Dylan’s skin like it was butter. Dylan’s hand was on Clay’s leg as he let the machine glide across his skin. A part of him hated to mark something so beautiful, but another thought this added to Dylan’s beauty—this thing that was so important to his boy.
Every so often, his eyes darted to Dylan’s, and they were always on him…watching, holding him, as though they were the muscles that led Clay’s hand, the fuel that fed him.
“You okay, Trouble?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Clay wiped away the ink and continued creating art on what was already a work of art. The moment held him, dug deep inside him. No matter what happened, no matter where the future went, Dylan would have this memory of him, and Clay would have it as well.
When they finished, Clay cleaned it. His skin was pink and puffy. “What do you think?” he asked.
Dylan stood and went to the mirror. Clay followed, giving him space, standing behind him as Dylan took it in.
“Do you like it?”
In the reflection in the mirror, Clay saw Dylan’s lips curl upward. When he turned, Clay noticed his eyes looked wet. “It’s beautiful, Clay. It feels right…feels like it gives me strength…feels like there’s a part of you in it.”
Clay closed his eyes, felt Dylan’s words to the marrow of his bones, before he opened them. “As long as you want me, there is, Trouble. There is.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Dylan
“Wow! This is really great!” the customer said. He was a redheaded guy about Dylan’s age.
“You like it?” Dylan asked, trying to tame the excitement running loose inside him. The guy hadn’t been sure what he wanted, so he’d asked Dylan to surprise him. Troy had let him play around with some new drink ideas again, and the one he’d just made was something he hadn’t shared yet.
“I really do. It tastes almost like a butter finger, but there’s…I don’t know…something else in there.”
“Yes, there is.” Dylan grinned. “But I can’t give out my secrets.”
The ginger smiled back, and something in that gaze told Dylan he was getting something else out of the conversation than he was. Shit, shit, shit.
“So I guess that means I’ll just have to come in when you’re here if I want something good.”
Oh fuck. Yep, he’d definitely read the situation right. “It’ll be on the menu soon. Anyone will be able to make it.”
The guy looked behind him and then leaned closer. “I could be totally off base here, but…well…maybe we can go out together for a drink sometime.”
His stomach tied into knots. He hadn’t meant to look as though he’d been flirting. That was the last thing on his mind. “I can’t. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I have a boyfriend.”
That word felt better every time he said it. Boyfriend…Clay was his. Just thinking about it made him giddy.
He waved Dylan off, obviously not caring. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
And just like that, he was gone, and Troy stepped up behind him. “A less confident man might be a little jealous. All the sexy ones want you.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “Ha-ha. No they don’t.”
“Whatever you say. But we all know you only have eyes for your man…and who can blame you.”
“Ugh. He’s gorgeous. And sweet. And I know I’m like, ridiculous about him, but I can’t help it.” No one had ever made him feel the way Clay did. Clay said Dylan made him feel alive again, but he made Dylan feel everything like it was the first time.
“And you’re crazy about him.”
“I am,” Dylan confirmed.
“Hey, I’m going out with some friends of mine in Raleigh next weekend. Since last time we didn’t quite make it out, I was thinking you could come. It’ll give you a chance to meet more people since you’re living here now. Clay can come too.”
Excitement skittered through Dylan’s veins. He wanted that. He not only enjoyed going out, but he did want to meet more people. He wanted to make Bailey Springs a home—a fresh start in every way. “That sounds fun. I’ll talk to Clay. I’m sure he’ll be down.” He hoped… Clay never really mentioned going out to bars or clubs, but then, they’d met at one that first night, so he must go sometimes.
“Sounds good. Anyway, you’re out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thanks. See ya then.”