Chapter 21
MILLIE
Free tonight? My door is open.
Shade’s text wasn’t expected. That’s my fault, honestly. After three days of no lessons, it was only a matter of time before we had another. I guess I just thought it would be me who’d have to ask for one after last time.
His interest is comforting. It’s another reminder that he’s genuinely interested in our agreement instead of just going along with it for my sake.
The studio is dark inside, the lights off. With the sign flipped to Closed, I know that he isn’t here. The door he was talking about is the one along the side of the building that leads upstairs. My stomach rolls with nerves as I sidestep the front of the studio and head along the side.
Since the last time I was here at night, the small light hung on the brick has been replaced, no longer burnt out.
It illuminates the walkway, giving me the reassurance of safety that keeps me from shaking with worry.
Silence plagues Oak Point at night, even across the street from the diner.
Besides a few men in cowboy hats and dirty boots sitting at a table beside the window, it’s empty.
A dark space like this isn’t where I’d have pictured myself ever walking at night. Months ago, I wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of it. My car doors would have stayed locked as I sat outside and shook my head at the place.
So judgmental.
I smooth my hands down my skirt and shiver at the wind that scoops up beneath it, threatening to flip it up. Stifling a curse by biting my tongue, I hold my skirt down and continue toward the door.
It whips open ahead of me, the metal slamming against the brick. I pause, freezing when a man comes out from inside Shade’s building. He’s unfamiliar, almost terrifying. My muscles prime for a fight as I stand still in the shadowed light, gaping at him.
Standing taller and wider than anyone I’ve ever seen, the man snaps his head in my direction, his eyes dark and restless.
I struggle to get air into my seizing lungs as he grips the side of the door and stares at me.
The black cowboy hat on his head is tipped forward slightly, shielding his face from the pitiful light beside me.
I open my mouth, then close it, my mind glitching.
“Careful, kitten. Looks like you’re primed to run scared any minute,” he grunts, voice deep and growled, like he’s pissed off despite the lack of physical reaction.
He steps away from the door and lets it slam closed. I flinch at the bang that rings out in the night. It’s hard to reassure myself that this guy came from Shade’s place. His apartment, not just the shop. He knows him. That means he isn’t a danger to me. But . . . he looks like he could be.
The curl of his fingers at his side tries to make me shrink into myself, but I refuse to run like he assumed I would. Instead, I swallow and tip my chin up, ignoring the tremble in my hands.
“Who are you?” I attack.
“How is it that I know who you are, but you don’t know me? Shade’s a fucking blabbermouth.”
I frown, brows stitching together. The man shakes his head and reaches up to pull the heavy black hat from his head. The buzzed head isn’t as surprising as the tattoos that are revealed now that there’s no shadow to hide them.
Jaw to throat and down beneath the collar of his dirty button-up, he’s covered in black ink. I scroll my eyes over him, trying to make sense of the number of them, but I’m not able to. There are too many to look at.
The curl of his lips tries to pass as a smile, but it’s too cruel.
I avoid looking at it when he sets the hat back on and continues toward me.
I shuffle closer to the brick wall, and he watches me move, his nostrils flaring.
I get smacked with a wave of guilt when he passes me slowly, eyes on the ground.
“Not gonna touch you, Millie,” he mutters roughly.
My eyes burn at the pain in his tone. It’s familiar in a way that strikes me deep, ripping open my chest. I twist, facing his back.
“I’m sorry. It’s not often that I have to share a dark alley with a man I don’t know,” I ramble.
The man stalls, the heels of his black boots scuffing the pavement. “My name’s Rowe.”
“Rowe,” I repeat on a loose exhale. “Shade’s friend.”
“So he has spoken about me.”
“A few times. I just—”
“Never saw me before. Yeah, kitten. Got it. Don’t blame you for scurrying away.”
“I’m sorry,” I push out quickly.
His throat bobs before he leaves that sharp gaze on me for a beat longer. Once he looks away, he moves, abandoning this interaction in the rearview.
I’d be lying if I said having him leave doesn’t allow me the space to catch my breath.
The cool wind blows over me, calming the fear that had clung to me like a second skin.
Guilt comes next, punishing me for judging someone the way others have judged me.
One look and I was labelled as something I never wanted to be.
Is that how Rowe feels too?
“Millie?”
Shade’s voice soothes me, pulling me from my head. I turn to the door, where he’s watching me, holding it open. My smile is genuine as I go to him and slip inside.
“So, that’s Rowe,” I say.
“You saw him?”
I let him touch my back and guide me up the stairs to his apartment. “Yeah. We ran into each other as he was leaving.”
“Are you okay?” he asks, stroking my spine.
“I was cruel to him.”
His touch stutters. “You?”
“Don’t make it sound so hard to believe.”
“It is hard to believe.”
I glance at him over my shoulder once we reach the open apartment door. Stepping through the doorway, I slip out of my heels.
“He scared me,” I admit.
“He scares everyone, Millie. Being fearful doesn’t make you a cruel person.”
“It was more than that. I judged him without even hearing him speak.”
Shrugging out of my jacket, I frown. I drape the heavy fabric over the back of a dining chair and then stand awkwardly, unsure where to go next. I’ve only been here once before, and that was before . . .
Shade passes me and drops onto the couch. “He won’t hold it against you. Rowe’s a hard man. Fucking impossible to offend, really. He’s got an impenetrable shell.”
“What was he doing here tonight?” I ask, joining Shade.
He immediately stretches an arm behind me along the couch, his fingers curling in my hair.
It’s habit at this point, I’m sure. There’s only so much I can do myself to calm down before one of our lessons, and he always reads into that like an expert in all things Millie.
His light, casual touches are for my benefit.
“Came to talk. I’ve got a piece that I’ve been wanting to ink for a while. I figured I’d offer it to him first,” he says.
“Is there even anywhere left on his body to tattoo?”
His attention snags, eyes holding mine. “Did he give you a quick body tour or something out there?”
My laugh is loud, surprised. It punches through the apartment, making his lips quirk. “Yeah, actually. He stripped down and gave me a quick show in the alleyway. It was the most romantic experience of my life.”
“I bet he fucking did,” he grouses, but it’s an act. His annoyance is so thin it’s see-through.
“I only noticed his neck. There were . . . a lot.”
Shade twirls my hair around his finger. “Yeah, he has more than I do.”
“Have you done them all?”
“No. He got a good chunk of them in prison. I’ve been touching them up, though. Some are pretty fucking gnarly.”
“I’d like to apologize to him the next time he comes to the studio. I feel really bad about behaving the way I did.”
Shade tips his head in acknowledgment, eyes flicking between mine for a quick moment.
They fall to my lap, clinging to the hem of my skirt.
It’s shorter than I usually wear, and yeah, maybe I did that on purpose.
When he texted me, I was wearing sweatpants.
I could have come over without changing, but I didn’t. His reaction right now is exactly why.
His fingers release the chunk of my hair and drop to my shoulder, gliding along the curve of it. “Have you chosen what comes next?”
“As in?”
“You need me to spell it out, princess?” he rasps.
I reject the shiver that threatens to rock through me. “No.”
“So tell me.”
It shouldn’t be so hard to get the words out. What I want is something that everyone does. It’s natural. Nothing out of the ordinary. Yet I hesitate, feeling a thousand pairs of judgmental eyes on me from all the way in Whistler.
My exhale escapes when Shade tucks a finger beneath my chin and turns my head, forcing me to look at him. I wet my dry lips and fall into his stare, the words settled on my tongue, weighing it down.
“Tell me,” he whispers.
“Teach me . . .” I trail off when he drops his hand and reaches across me to cup my thigh.
In one smooth movement, he pulls me onto his lap. I reach for his shoulders, needing balance as my legs slide to bracket his. My knees dig into the couch cushion while I lean forward and hold myself steady.
“Teach you what?” he asks, his voice deep and rough.
I gulp, thighs beginning to burn from holding myself above him. “How to pleasure a man.”
His eyes darken, growing more intense than I’ve ever seen them, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. It seems like a very important lesson.”
“Men are easy, Millie. It’s women who need time and effort.”
“I’m not interested in learning how to please women.”
His smirk is small, knowing. “I meant, it’s important for you to know what it feels like with a man who knows what he’s doing with his mouth between your thighs so if you’re with one who doesn’t, you don’t have to settle.”
“I’m not—I don’t think I’m ready for that,” I admit, gaze falling to the firm line of his torso.
Beneath his T-shirt, his abs flex, and a set of defined pectoral muscles rise and fall with his strong breaths. I remember how they felt beneath my palm and roll my lips together to hide my reaction.
He settles his hands on my hips, holding firmly.
His hold allows him the ease of moving me wherever he wants me, and he does with a sharp tug.
I fall against his chest, our middles pressed together, his jeans scraping the bare skin of my thighs.
My inhale is sharp as I lift my eyes. Shade doesn’t look annoyed with me, only curious.
“There’s no rush. Just tell me when you are ready,” he says.
I nod, unsure what to do with my hands now that they’ve fallen between us. “So, you’ll teach me about men?”
“I’ll teach you about me, and you can use that knowledge for others. Just remember that every guy is different. We’re similar enough, but some things that work for me won’t work for others.”
“Like what?” I can’t help but ask.
“Not yet.”
I swallow my frustration with that answer and focus on our closeness.
With every breath I take, my chest moves closer to his.
It’s like I’m leaning toward him without meaning to.
It’s instinct, and I know that soon enough, there won’t be room for my hands between us.
I’ll need to move them. To use them to touch him . . .
Shade thumbs my waist, tucking his hands beneath my shirt to where I’m bare above my skirt. I shiver this time, unable to help it as goosebumps break out beneath his touch. My hips jerk forward, and he sucks in a sharp breath.
There’s a bulge beneath me, rising high enough inside his jeans to scrape at my centre. It’s light, a teasing brush that shoots tiny sparks up my body.
“Remember when we talked about following instincts, Millie?” he asks roughly.
I do. It pings around in my mind while I bring a hand to the back of his neck, holding it there as if waiting for approval. He leans back into my touch, his hair tickling my fingers before I curl them in it. Eyes on me, Shade tightens his grip on my waist.
He keeps his lips parted, that thicker bottom one jutting out slightly.
I rise on my knees, pushing forward along his groin and hovering slightly above him.
The position makes my spine straighten with confidence, power, almost. I tug lightly on his hair, urging his head back and watching the way his pupils expand.
“My instincts aren’t all that sharp,” I murmur, closing in on his mouth.
He pulls me forward, and our middles clash even harder, leaving me no choice but to set my other hand on the couch behind him. “Seem fine to me.”
My rebuttal gets snatched from my mind when he moves his hips, rolling them slightly. I gasp, pleasure jabbing low in my belly as he rubs against me. My eyes widen and fix themselves to the twitch of his mouth. There’s a fire sparking in my blood that encourages me to move this time.
There’s no room for worry or doubt when I tug harder on his hair and crane his head back before dropping my lips to his.