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I lie in bed waiting for the coast to be clear. I’ve been awake for hours, not having slept well last night, but there’s no way I’m venturing out there until the apartment is silent. I do not want to run the risk of running into Johnny and having him quiz me about last night. Or worse, bumping into Linc.
I’m so embarrassed by what happened last night. No, scratch that, I’m embarrassed by everything that happened since the moment Kelly found me dancing round the lounge in only a skimpy towel.
Generally, I’m hard to rattle, and I try not to care too much what people think of me, but when I think of the bickering with Johnny over dinner, it makes me flush. When I think of after dinner, at the tattoo shop, I cringe. Which is why I am currently still in bed, hiding. I can’t face any of them. I don’t have it in me to pretend like everything is alright with Johnny, and I certainly can’t face the other three without turning beet-red with mortification. What would I say?
My melancholy thoughts are interrupted by a knock on my door. I groan and hide my head under the covers. Real mature.
“I know you’re in there.” A soft voice comes muffled through the door. I’m not certain which guy it is. It definitely isn’t Johnny, that’s for sure; he’s not capable of being soft and quiet, and he probably wouldn’t knock. When I don’t respond, there’s a second knock followed by, “I’m coming in.”
Oh, god. Maybe I should have gotten up early and gone out?
“It wouldn’t work. I’ve been up since four, fretting about my design.”
Ah shit, I must have said that out loud. Double shit, as I realize it’s Linc that’s just entered my room and made himself comfy sitting on the bed next to me, if the dipping of the mattress is anything to go by.
Time to face the music, then.
I duck out from under the covers and sigh wearily. No use pretending I didn’t see or hear him.
“Good morning,” Linc says, eyes twinkling. It’s like he’s personally enjoying my discomfort, so I scowl at him.
“Nope? Not a morning person, then?” he quips, and I growl.
“Four a.m.? Seriously?!” I ask, dumbfounded. If he had tried to wake me up at that ungodly hour, I would have killed him!
“Yeah. When I see a design in my head, I can’t rest until it’s done, but I didn’t get an image with you. So I was stressing over it. That’s never happened to me before. I think I need time to get to know you better so that I can come up with the perfect design. And then my brain needed to know if you would be okay with that, so I just sat on the couch until a more sociable time. Only, you didn’t get up. I was starting to worry; it’s getting late. You okay?”
“Yeah, just mortified.” I blink slowly as I try to process what he’s just said. It’s definitely the most he’s ever said to me, and I was so surprised by it that my answer just slipped out. I didn’t mean to say that at all.
“Why?” He seems puzzled. Does he really not know why I’d be so bothered about last night?
“I was uncomfortable,” I tell him. I’ve let it slip now, so I’m putting this shit on him. He doesn’t need to know that I enjoyed him spanking me. He definitely doesn’t need to know how much I liked being naked in front of three guys. And I’ll die before I tell him how aroused I was by him putting me in my place. Not to mention confused by it all. Submission isn’t my usual style, at all. I shake my head.
“Shit. Why?” Is this guy for real? He looks genuinely worried now.
“Doesn’t matter,” I hastily backtrack. “So you don’t have a design to show me?”
He blinks at me for a moment, shifting the sketchbook in his hands. If he doesn’t have a design, why did he bring it in here?
“No. I drew some sketches, but I don’t like them. They’re not right at all. I need to know you better, but I also thought, maybe you need to know me better too.” He hesitates before handing over his closed sketchbook, but I don’t make any move to open it yet. “I thought maybe if you saw some of my other designs, it might make you trust me a little more.”
“I thought you designed using software?”
“I do, but I like to sketch the design out freehand too. The software is to ensure it's perfect, the sketchbook is more…personal.”
I nod and flip the book open to the first page. The design that greets me takes my breath away. It’s everything I would have wanted from any of my tattoos and more. Intricate and strong, yet delicate and beautiful. “Do you like it?” Linc asks.
“I…yeah.” I’m pretty speechless as I flick through the pages of design after design that could rival any award-winning artist.
“Are you sure?” he double-checks. “You don’t seem convinced.”
“Definitely. I love all of them. They’re just…way more than I was expecting. Even the ones you’ve done for me that you don’t like… They must have taken you all night.”
“That doesn’t matter. It has to be perfect. These aren’t. Not yet. Not for you.”
“I really do love your work, though. This helps. Thank you.” I smile at him to show I mean it. I do love his style. I’m just worried.
“What is it?” he presses, sensing something is off.
