Chapter 35
MILLIE
I don’t remember the last time I had more than one glass of champagne at a party.
Or rather, even attended one that wasn’t thrown by my mother or one of her colleagues. Last night wasn’t even truly a party. Not in the true definition. Yet, I had more fun in those few hours than at any real party I’ve ever been to.
That’s why I can’t get frustrated when it was a headache that woke me this morning. I assume it’s due to the sangria that never stopped flowing and my plateful of Shelly’s lemon squares that I don’t think helped suck any of the wine up before I fell asleep.
I expect there to be sun already coming through my sheer curtains, but as I pop one eye open, I’m met with darkness instead. Stretching my legs, I point my toes and turn my head. The man beside me is absolutely never usually in my bed, which means only one thing . . .
Holding my breath, I turn fully onto my side and slide my hand beneath my pillow.
Shade doesn’t stir at all when I move. He continues to sleep, snoring so softly it could pass as heavy breathing.
The same blanket I’ve got tucked beneath my armpits is heavy, black, and draped around his waist. The bare expanse of his chest is right there beside me, practically begging me to stare at it.
I’m generous with myself this morning and let my eyes wander, soaking up the sight of him so at peace and unaware of how much I’m enjoying the view. There’s no chance for him to get a big head about my attention like this. I can just enjoy right now.
My fingers twitch beneath my pillow and at my hip as I refuse myself a quick touch, not wanting to risk waking him yet.
Instead, I push myself up on my elbow and look down at where his chest rises and falls, the pace peaceful.
The small black loop is still through his nipple, and it’s a bit overwhelming to try and spend an appropriate amount of time on each tattoo around it.
Looking too quickly feels like a disservice to the detail in the designs.
Or that’s what I think before I can no longer avoid the one still healing over his sternum. I inhale through my nose and lean closer, focused on the red that’s visible even in the dark and the look of the raised skin.
It’s so bad.
The crown on my wrist isn’t even itchy anymore. I don’t feel it at all usually, but that? He’s got to feel pain where I’ve ruined his skin.
I finished the entire design on his lap after we .
. . had sex, despite how challenging that was for me, both emotionally and physically.
He refused to let me separate us, so I stayed on his lap for another hour, still impaled on the erection that wouldn’t soften, tattooing him.
I’d love to say my work got better as the minutes ticked by, but I’m pretty sure it got worse.
At one point, I thought he was going to have to take over for me out of pure disappointment.
But he didn’t. He never said one negative thing about what I was doing.
I was waiting for him to snap at me because I pressed too hard with the paper towel or strayed from the stencil despite how hard I tried to focus, even when I knew deep down he wouldn’t.
This man did the exact opposite. He just stroked my back and told me about the first time he let Bryce tattoo him, letting me learn without being smothered.
I’ve held myself back from asking him to let me try again on the fake skin I saw in the back room instead. It wasn’t until I sat back just far enough to look at his tattoo completely finished that I stopped caring about how terrible it looked. Pride and excitement swelled too high inside of me.
Now, though? Staring at the painful-looking tattoo, I’m wishing I’d stopped and let him take over after all.
“Might as well just shove me, princess. I could feel you staring at me in my sleep.”
I hesitate to speak, unsure of what to say. Especially when he turns his head and looks right at me, all tired eyes and a drowsy smirk that might be sexier than his dirty one.
“What are you thinking about so hard?” he rasps, his voice thick with sleep.
“Does your tattoo hurt?”
He blinks three times, reaching up to run fingers through his messy hair. The bunching of his arm muscles as he does so is one of the filthiest things I’ve ever seen.
“Which one?”
“Your new one.”
He looks down at his chest. “No. It’s normal for it to look like that.”
“Are you lying?”
“No, Millie. I’m not lying,” he drawls, dropping his arm as he rolls toward me. It curls around my waist over the heavy blanket. “Is that why you look so worried?”
“Why else would I be worried?”
“Other than the fact you’re in my bed this morning?”
I flip onto my back, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. “Oh! I didn’t even think—”
“We didn’t,” he soothes, voice still rough. “I wouldn’t have done that. You were drunk.”
“I know. I just don’t really know how I am after more than one drink,” I admit, relaxing into the mattress.
Shade tightens his hold on me, letting his heavy arm drape across my stomach. “You’re the same you always are around me. Bright and bubbly.”
“Okay, cocky,” I say with a snort.
“Am I wrong?”
The question is a heavier hitter than I think either of us anticipated, because no, he isn’t wrong.
“Did I crawl into your bed on my own, or did you bring me here?” I ask, trying to get even.
He rubs my stomach over the blanket. “Is there a right answer to that question?”
“Yep.”
“You know damn well you didn’t crawl into my bed, Millie.”
I smile, trying to trap it down but failing. “So, you brought me here all on your own.”
“I needed to make sure you didn’t choke on throw up in your sleep,” he drawls, studying my expression as it twists.
“Right. I’m sure that was the entire reason.”
Leaning up, he hovers over me slightly, raising his hand to run his knuckles along my jaw. “Do you need another one?”
“I’d like one,” I admit, forcing my confidence not to falter.
“And if I told you that it was because I just wanted to have you here? In my bed next to me when I woke up?”
I release a breath and tilt my chin, bringing our mouths so, so close. “Well, then I would tell you to kiss me so it was a morning to remember.”
He doesn’t hesitate to do just that. The first press of our mouths is soft, a warm caress that grows hotter, firmer. I grab his wrist, holding it tightly as if I’m scared he’ll let me go already. The thought alone has my heart clunking against my rib cage.
In one smooth motion, he rolls over my body, using one arm to keep himself from crushing me beneath his weight. I let him separate our lips long enough to chuckle, shifting his hold from my jaw to my waist, squeezing me there.
Opening my eyes, I watch him glance down my body to where the blanket has been pulled down, revealing my lack of usual pyjamas. I almost laugh when I realize what I’m wearing.
“I suppose dressing me in your clothes was also your idea?”
His smirk is straight sin. “Fucking right it was.”
“And here I thought you secretly loved my silk sets.”
“You’re going to get more than you bargained for this morning if you keep teasing me.”
I laugh loudly, freely. “What time is it?”
“Early enough we don’t need to go downstairs yet,” he nearly growls against my mouth. “Let me keep you here for a bit longer.”
I splay a hand on his bare back and run it up the taut muscles along his spine. “You’re more possessive than I expected you to be.”
“Not possessive,” he denies with a nip at my lip. Then, his tongue glides across the wounded skin. “Just pathetically clingy.”
“That’s no better.”
Lowering his hips, he grinds down on me, and I immediately lose the ability to tease him further. The blankets are pooled beneath him, keeping us from getting closer. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. His forehead presses to mine, his long lashes lowering as he kisses me again.
I part my lips against his, letting his tongue slip between them. He rolls his lower body again, dragging a moan up from the bottom of my chest. I wiggle beneath the blankets, wanting them off but remaining pinned in place.
He grins into the kiss, letting me know that he knows exactly what I’m thinking and still refuses to give it to me. It’s as aggravating as it is enticing. With Shade, I want to prove myself as badly as I want to please him, and that’s a heady combination.
Suddenly, I’m back in the studio, sitting on his lap as he bucks up into me, leaving an imprint deep inside that I’m not sure will ever go away.
I fall into his kiss, sinking into the sheets and feeling every flex of his muscles and shift of his hips like it could be the last time.
My stomach burns with dread as I realize that it’s a real possibility.
“Millie,” he rasps, pulling back just enough to stare down at me. “Where did you go?”
The nightstand starts to rattle as a phone buzzes. I try to look whose it is when he pinches my chin and tugs it forward, not allowing me to take my eyes off him.
“Answer me.”
I nip at my cheek once. “Would you let me tattoo you again?”
The question comes out of nowhere. It’s not at all what I’m thinking, but I guess it works well enough to distract him from trying to dig into my mind any further.
“Any day, princess. Wanted to talk to you about that, actually. I just didn’t expect to do it right now.”
My pulse quickens. “Really?”
“If I offered you an apprenticeship, would you accept?”
“Like, with you?” I ask, almost stumbling over the words.
His laugh is rough against my lips. “Yeah, with me.”
“At the studio?”
“Millie,” he says tightly, like he’s taking everything in him to keep it together. “Yes, here. At Into The Shade, with me, Shade. Unless you’d prefer Bryce. But in that case, I would absolutely get possessive.”
The buzzing continues on the nightstand, stopping only briefly before starting up again. I watch as Shade’s eyes tighten at the corners, his mouth curling into a scowl.
“You should answer that,” I ramble.
He looks at me for a moment longer, unspoken words clear in the intensity of that stare, before he rolls over to grab the phone. His voice is strangled when he answers the call.
“What?”
The voice coming through the speaker sounds like Bryce, but I can’t make out the words she’s saying. From Shade’s bristling posture, it isn’t anything good.
“Who?” he snaps, already getting out of bed. “Tell them to wait outside. They’re not allowed through the door.”
Without looking back at me, he goes to the dresser across the room and starts opening drawers and pulling clothes out. A pair of black jeans goes on first, then a tank top cut high on his shoulders. He doesn’t reach for socks, and I sit up on the bed when he freezes, casting me a tense look.
“Yeah, I’m coming down now.”
His phone flies toward the bed the moment he hangs up, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to speak. There’s a raw sensation in my gut, like a premonition or something.
“Stay here,” he commands, leaving little room for argument.
I make some anyway. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Just a couple of guys downstairs. I don’t want Bryce dealing with them on her own.”
“I’ll come too, then.”
I shove the blankets off my thighs and swing them off—
“No, you’re staying up here. Get dressed, and I’ll come get you after they’re gone.”
Brow lifting, I pause with my feet on the floor. “Are these guys dangerous or something?”
“No,” he grunts, and I believe him. “I just want you to stay up here.”
Something twists in my stomach, intensifying the lingering burn. There’s a desperation in his voice when he speaks this time that forces me to obey him. At least for right now.
“Please.”
I palm my knees, finding them damp with sweat. “Fine.”
“Thank you,” he blows out on a heavy exhale. “I’ll be fast.”
With a tip of my chin toward the door, I stay glued to the bed.
He tenses his jaw for half a second before coming over to me and cupping my nape.
My head gets guided back at the same time he kisses me, not holding back in the slightest. I fill my hands with his shirt and pull him close, hating this sick feeling that’s rolling through me like some sort of sign.
His fingers press harder into my neck, keeping me held firmly against him before he releases me, swallowing audibly. When he lets go and steps back, I frown despite my better judgment, letting him see how badly I wish he’d just stay and continue our soft morning.
“Come down when you usually would. Don’t rush,” he mutters, keeping our eyes tangled as he walks backward to the door.
I keep my voice even as I lie, “Alright.”
If he doesn’t buy the lie, he doesn’t show it.
In a blink, he’s disappearing into the hallway, leaving me alone, my muscles tightening as I prepare to follow after him.
It’s almost comical to think that for even one minute, he’d believe that I’m going to sit and wait for him to take care of this without me.
Especially when I would be a complete fool not to already have an idea of what I’m going to find when I get downstairs. And shit, I’m not ready for it. Not by a long shot.