“That’s the big argument, isn’t it?” Macy asked. “People always say ‘You’ll be sorry you did that when you’re old and wrinkled and it looks like crap’.”
“I hear it all the time. But I’d rather look back and regret something I did when I was young and crazy, than look back and regret something I never had the courage to do, and realize it’s too late.”
“Excellent point,” Candace murmured, and if her mind hadn’t been completely made up before, it was now. She wanted to get started. “But I don’t want to make you late, Brian. Are you sure we have time?”
“Absolutely.” He reached over and rumpled her hair, and she wanted to groan. It was such a you’re-like-my-kid-sister thing to do. “Let’s go find you something.”
The books were still out on the counter and there were more people in the waiting area when they emerged from the back. Candace resumed her search for the perfect tattoo as Brian surveyed the shop, which had every chair filled. “We’ll have to go in one of the back rooms,” he said.
“I was going to ask if we could, anyway.” She tried to keep her voice even and nonchalant as she said it, but she saw his gaze dart toward her out of the corner of her eye. Her heart kicked up to a frantic pace. It was finally out there.
“Yeah? Why?”
“Because of, um…where I want it.”
She sensed his grin rather than saw it. “Where is that?”
“I’ll show you when we get there.”
“I could have one of the girls do it if you’d rather—”
“No. You.” She struggled to keep her hands steady as she flipped a page. Macy, thumbing through the other book, took that moment to let out a startled yelp. Candace looked over to see that she’d stumbled upon the pictures of body piercings. Of the genital variety, to be more exact. Oh, hell. Macy was flushing crimson to her hair roots. On the page beneath her stricken face was the male genital piercing section.
Candace choked on an embarrassed laugh, feeling her own blood pool hotly in her cheeks. Brian snickered.
“Okay, I can’t deal with that,” Macy was babbling. “That’s too much for me. Why anyone would want to—”
“It enhances sex,” he said, as if the answer should be obvious.
“The sex I’ve had was just fine; I don’t see the need to torture oneself to make it better.”
“That sounds like a problem,” Brian told her, and Candace felt like she was watching a tennis match as the two went back and forth.
Macy’s eyebrows were in her hair. “What problem?”
“The sex you’ve had was just ‘fine’. Sounds like a problem to me.” He sent Candace a slow wink that turned her knees to mush.
“What, are you saying you’ve got a…doohickey like that in your…?”
Brian’s smile was long suffering. “That ‘doohickey’ is a Prince Albert. I only started out with one of those. Eventually I went to an apadravya. Gotta think of the ladies.” He tapped the page, his grin as wicked as sin on Sunday. “In fact, you never know, one of them might be me.”
Macy pushed away from the counter, having reached the limits of mortification she was willing to endure. Candace tried not to glance down at any of the pictures in question but couldn’t help herself. She had to sneak a peek. Some of them were…well, really impressive, and she wondered if—
“So are we gonna do this, honey?” he asked, and she looked up into his eyes. They were a beautiful, mysterious shade of dark blue she didn’t think she’d ever seen before. He must wear contacts. Her breath seared through her lungs.
“I’ve decided. Let’s do it.”
Chapter Two
“I have to apologize for my friend.” Candace settled herself on the padded table in one of the small back rooms. “I love her dearly, but not the giant stick up her ass.”
Brian laughed. “Sorry if I embarrassed you, but I couldn’t resist squicking her out.”
“So…you were joking, then?” Inquiring minds had to know.
“About the apa or about putting it on display out there?”
“Both, I guess.”
“I’ll never tell.” He winked at her before going back to fiddling with his equipment. She hadn’t a clue what any of it was, but it looked scary, and she admired the confidence and efficiency with which he handled it. He’d already gone over all their sanitation techniques as if she were any other customer and he’d selected the colors he would need, which were only red and black. The inks sat in two tiny cups on a table beside her.
She’d chosen a small blood-red heart design with black tribal art extending out from both sides. Brian had already transferred the purplish outline to her skin…so low on her belly that even the flimsiest bikini bottoms in existence would probably cover most of it up. She often went swimming in her parents’ pool and there was no freaking way they could ever see it, so unless she wanted it smack on her butt or her boob—which she didn’t—it was the only place she could think of.
Shedding her jeans to mid-thigh and pulling her underwear down until it only covered her most private area had almost been the deal-breaker. When she’d planned out her act of rebellion, she hadn’t really let herself think that far ahead. If she had, she might never have gotten through the front door.
He’d made her stand while he got down on his knees and rubbed the transfer onto her skin. Thank God she’d waxed. She could only hope he hadn’t noticed how her legs quaked and her ni**les beaded at the feel of his fingertips gently smoothing the stencil on. He hadn’t so much as blinked at her dishabille, and she had to keep in mind that he’d probably had hundreds of girls drop their pants in here to get him to do far more risqué body mod than her little tattoo.
Now, lying on the table with her design perfectly centered and ready to be inked, she stared at the ceiling and tried to concentrate on keeping her breathing steady.
“Nervous?” he asked, and she looked over to find his steady gaze on her. “You have a certain deer-in-headlights look I’m quite familiar with.”
“Yeah. Really no use in denying it.”
“It’ll be all right. Most people compare it to a bee sting.”
“Which isn’t very fun.”
“Not fun, but nothing you can’t take, right?”
“If you say so.”
He chuckled. “If you need a break, tell me, but I’m betting you won’t. Do you want me to do a dry pass so you can get an idea of what it’s like?”
Candace considered. “Better not. I might chicken out, but if you go ahead and start, I’m kind of stuck going through with it, right?” Her eyes widened as his black-Latex- covered hands tore open a package containing a needle. “Holy…”
“Now settle down. It’s not a shot at the doctor’s office. You just get the very tip.” He wheeled the stool he was sitting on closer to her. At that moment she was reminded of being in her doctor’s office, a dreaded event that always made her panic.
Oh, Jesus. There was no way. She couldn’t get through this. Closing her eyes, she tried to concentrate on the music filtering through the speaker system. It was Killswitch Engage, one of Brian’s favorite bands, if she remembered correctly. The singer had an incredible voice. She focused on that rather than the sounds of him getting his machine assembled—machine, he’d told her, not gun—and testing it out. But that whirring buzz whisked her straight from her doctor’s office to the dentist’s chair, and nothing on earth caused her more anxiety than that. Being helpless, immobile, at the mercy of someone wielding an instrument capable of causing her great, agonizing pain…