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If he were Rothbart, I’d have been cleaning him with my tongue, cringing over the disgusting salty taste.
But he wasn’t Rothbart.
He was Remi—my Remi, who I actually wanted to taste.
I wanted him to push past my boundaries and fears—it was almost like I expected it of him.
But I couldn’t say why.
And I couldn’t say why he hadn’t, leaving us both with a sense of dissatisfaction.
“Meaning?” he asked, interrupting my fantasies.
I almost blurted out, “Well, I’ve seen you in the shower, remember? And I share a bed with you. I know what you do when you think I’m asleep,” but I didn’t.
“I’ve seen your coffees.”
He did see the funny side of it. “Sure…the coffees.” His machine moved to my skin. “I think we can do a good six, maybe seven hours today, maybe again tomorrow.”
“Am I getting a full sleeve?”
“I’ve designed one. Feel free to bow out. We’ve already covered your old tattoos.”
“Nope. Let’s make us a matching pair.”
“Don’t worry, yours are cuter than mine. And more colorful.”
“What’s the reason for the bears? I know their representations fit you, but why bears or stuffed animals?”
“You had one when you were little. You said it helped with your night terrors. I didn’t know what it looked like, so I brought one every time I came to see you, hoping I’d get it right.”
“Really? That’s kinda sweet. Another good memory.”
“Not really. I never got it right. Though, you’ve taken a shine to that panda. And I have the perfect little panda ready for the inside of your wrist, just the head, because, you know.”
“I love that.”
A smile lit up his face. “If the pain gets too much—”
“I can handle it. I’m a warrior, remember?” I pointed to his screensaver and winked before turning away from his handsome face and the look of pure happiness expressed on it. “Besides, it’s about time you did some work, don’t you think?”
I wasn’t worried about the pain. Apparently, I was one of those weirdos who found it relaxing, or maybe the excitement drowned out the pain. Whatever it was, I was ready to go again.
“Cover me in little bears, Remi darling.”
He laughed, still not settled on the nickname I’d been using for weeks. But he could get used to it, just like I had to with Little Dream because I did like it…but it still felt like a really bizarre thing to call someone.
“Chop, chop. We have hours of this to get through.” I turned my head, not wanting to see any of it until it was done.
Six hours later, I spun to him with a stiff neck. Remi snapped off the black latex gloves, and the noise yanked my attention to him.
“I think we’ll stop here for the day. We’re a little over halfway.”
“I could go another hour.”
“Do you crave pain, Little Dream?”
“It’s a different kind of pain, and it leaves a pretty colorful design behind. Not a bruise. Not a scar. I can do another hour, Remi. Let’s get another bear on me.”
