Chapter 27
MILLIE
I didn’t anticipate my first time living with a man to be so . . . normal.
It’s only been two days, but they’ve flown by with no issues. I can’t tell if Shade’s truly this easygoing or if he’s putting on a front for me so that I don’t run screaming. The worst part so far has been the occasional grunts from the living room every night while he works out.
I make sure to be in my room with the door shut during that time. I’m positive that I’d take one look at his shirtless, sweaty torso and drop to my knees right then and there. The only time I should do that has already passed. Doing it again outside of a lesson would be unwise.
That doesn’t mean I don’t still bury my head beneath my pillow and imagine that every grunt he makes isn’t because I’m pleasuring him, though. But that’s a secret I’m taking with me to the grave.
I drag my finger over the screen of the iPad Bryce dropped on the desk for me earlier and squint.
The logo is still rougher than I’d like, but I’ve cleaned up the edges and gotten the drop of ink beneath the gun needle as perfect as it’ll get.
For my first time using this kind of set-up, I think I did pretty good.
But is it good enough to show Shade? I don’t know.
With the tip of the pencil, I finish up the lettering a bit more, stalling.
He’s already done with his client today, and I can hear him putting everything he used away.
I’ve gotten pretty familiar with his set-up now, so I’m also aware he’ll be done in about .
. . five minutes. Then, I won’t be able to stall any longer.
There’s a calmness to the studio today. I noticed it from the moment we came down from the apartment together and he got started without me having to ask what I should do.
It’s become habit to start up the computer, turn the built-in speakers on, and double-check his appointments before confirming with him.
Bryce comes in an hour later, a frown on her face as she grumbles about missing her fiancée.
It’s adorable, but I don’t tell her that.
She never needs me to tell her the appointments she has for the day, but I do anyway, and she’s stopped telling me that it’s a waste of time. I think she’s warming up to me the way Shade said she was, and I’m trying not to get ahead of myself with hopes of us being best friends.
Shade’s taking up more than enough of my time here anyway. Between him and Lacey, I’m never alone for too long. I’m still trying to get used to that.
“Princess,” Shade grunts, drawing my attention from the iPad. “Come here.”
My stomach flutters despite my efforts to act unbothered. “For what?”
“Just come here. And bring the iPad.”
I push away from the desk and cross the studio, clutching the tablet like it’s going to be some sort of shield. Spoiler alert: it’s not.
Shade spreads out on his stool and takes the tablet. He stares down at the design I’ve been working on for what feels like forever and smirks. It’s not a dirty look, but almost proud, in a devious way.
“This is what I was waiting for. It looks finished, Millie.”
“Finished? It’s not. I’ve still got to smooth out the edges of the letters and add more, I don’t know, dimension maybe?” I ramble, cheeks burning.
“No you don’t. This is perfect. It’s better like this than it would be if you spent more time trying to make it more clean-cut. I want to try a few different colours, though. What are you thinking?”
“You don’t have one you want already?”
“I want to hear what you think,” he says bluntly.
Pressing my lips together, I look around the studio, hoping I’ll find a hint as to which direction to take.
It’s too dark, though. Besides the lights around the mirrors and the neon ones around the signs both he and Bryce have hung over their stations, there isn’t much colour at all. I’ve never really noticed before.
Shade strokes his fingers along the back of my knee, staring up at me.
I swallow, not giving in to the distraction, regardless of whether he meant it to be something other than that.
His touch is always a distraction. My body can’t handle it, especially when it’s so soft and honest. I short-circuit instead.
“It doesn’t have to match the inside of this place,” he says lowly, cupping my leg firmly now. “When you think of me and this place, what colour do you see?”
“Red.” It explodes out of me.
“Red it is, then.”
I cinch my brows. “You don’t have any other ideas? Just red?”
“Just red. And now that that’s decided, I want to show you something.”
“Alright . . .” I trail off.
He stands, returning to his towering height before pointing at the table by Bryce’s station. I follow as he goes to it and touches a small black printer.
“I’m going to teach you how to print stencils,” he announces, already reaching for something in a drawer beside us. “It’s not hard, but it’ll probably take you a few times to get the hang of it.”
I nod, my attention snagging on the confident way his hands move. He’s obviously done this a million times, but it’s still new to me—watching him do this side of the job. I’m used to only catching the actual tattooing part from the front desk, not what leads up to that.
“This fucking iPad that Bryce is so obsessed with does make it easier for this, but don’t tell her I said that,” he adds.
I crook a smile. “She does love it, doesn’t she?”
“I’ve always been a pencil-and-paper guy.
Not sure why, but I just feel like I have more control that way.
It’s not as easy to get everything printed off and stencilled, though, as much as I hate to admit it.
” He sets the iPad on the desk, a new design replacing the Into The Shade logo that was just there.
“When a design is on here, it’s easy to just print it off through the regular printer.
This one here is a thermal printer, and we have to feed the regular paper through it with the tattoo paper to get the stencil. ”
Leaning close to him, I take mental pictures of the black gloves he slips on and the label on the paper he’s grabbing.
He slides it onto the table beside the printer and peels up the yellow sheet before ripping it off completely.
The blue one that was hidden beneath it appears now, over top of a thin white one.
“We can’t just print off the design through one or the other?” I ask.
There’s not a fleck of judgment in his voice when he answers, “Nah, princess. In a perfect world, yeah. But for now, this is the way we do it.”
“Alright. So, we print the design off with the regular printer and then use it for this one.”
The black thermal printer doesn’t look any more complicated to use than an office one, so that’s a plus.
“That’s right. Can you print that design off?”
I grab the iPad and send it to the printer. It comes to life instantly with a clunk before starting to push the design out.
“I always thought you were just printing off the stencils when you did this,” I admit sheepishly.
Shade smooths a hand across my back as he reaches around me for the design. A breath slips from me, sounding too close to a moan for my liking.
“Not quite,” he murmurs. With the design in his hand, he clicks a few buttons on the thermal printer.
The drawing is small on the paper, and he doesn’t hesitate before ripping the empty portion of the paper off and discarding it.
“Now, we have to feed the tattoo paper and the design through the printer at the same time.”
“Okay.”
“The tattoo paper goes in like this, and the design like this with the black side down. Watch me.”
He moves steadily, showing me how to set the tattoo paper into the machine the proper way, and then slides the design into the upper part. I let the heat of his body roll over me as I watch eagerly, almost excited by the promise of learning more about this line of work. Of learning more about him.
“Alright, now, you just have to hold the tattoo paper as it moves through. Don’t pull too hard, but keep your grip firm,” he instructs, guiding the paper through.
Once it’s done, he takes the paper out and separates the blue sheet from the thin one. The small crown has been transferred onto the thin paper.
“That wasn’t that bad,” I say, still staring at the design.
Shade winks at me before carefully ripping the thin paper and taking the transferred design.
“Hop up on my table, Millie.”
I freeze. “What?”
“Who did you think this was for? Me?” he purrs, suddenly right in front of me.
“I thought you were going to throw it out or something! Not put it on me. I don’t know if I want a tattoo,” I blurt out.
But if that were the case, why am I getting excited?
“Tell me not to do it, then.” It’s almost a dare.
I glance toward his station, expecting to find it empty, but it’s not. He’s left his things out, and the table has been rewrapped. My heartbeat ramps up when I look back at him and our eyes clash.
“Where would it go?” I ask.
A gloved hand takes my wrist, lifting it between us. Then, his thumb sweeps over the inner portion of my wrist.
“Right here.”
“Is it going to hurt?”
“A bit. This part of the body isn’t bad,” he answers honestly.
With a nip to my inner cheek, I start toward the leather bed. Shade’s eyes follow me, clinging to my body. The excitement in my belly only grows, now mixed with the unmissable sensation of confidence.
“Is that a yes?”
I roll my eyes. “Obviously.”
When I hop onto the leather, I throw him a taunting look that says come on, then. His mouth curls in a half-cocked grin that should have me running scared but instead keeps me seated, anticipating what he’s about to show me.
This isn’t a lesson, exactly, but it feels the same as every other one has.
I’m coiled tight, my breath trying to saw out of my chest so desperately it’s like it wants to be in his instead.
Every scuff of his heavy footsteps on the floor as he makes his way to me is another number my temperature rises to.
There isn’t anyone else I’d trust to give me a tattoo, and it’s almost . . . flattering to know that a man as sought after as Shade is offering to give me my first and maybe only one.
But then again, maybe that’s how I’ve felt from the night we met. Grateful that he was there at the bar and that, for some reason, he decided to stick around when others wouldn’t have. And now he’s my friend, and I don’t remember another time in my life where I’ve felt so free to be myself.
That’s the Shade effect, I think. And I’m content living in it for as long as I can.