Page 115 of Control Freak
He used a finger to rub the solution into my skin. He wore gloves and was quick, practiced, and steady. We’d done this many times before. Still, I watched his every move with hypervigilance, tensed to spring out of the chair if he did anything wrong.
He wouldn’t. Iknewhe wouldn’t. Still couldn’t totally relax.
“Okay, done,” Cyrus said, removing his hands.
I exhaled shakily. When I glanced at Shiloh, his eyes were filled with worry.
I smiled for his sake. “I’m all good, Shy. Promise.”
Cyrus stepped back. “Shiloh will apply the transfer now. I’ve told him how, but I may have to step in and help a little to ensure it transfers correctly. You ready for that?”
I blew out a long breath. “Yes. Do it.”
It instantly felt different when Shiloh touched me. My heart lurched at that first press of fingertips.
Then I saw his eyes, seeking me out, assessing whether I was okay. I relaxed. This was Shiloh. I trusted him more than anyone in the world.
He pressed the carbon sheet over my skin, holding it in place. Cyrus was murmuring quiet instructions to him, but I couldn’t hear the words over the rushing of my pulse in my ears.
And then it was over. Just like that.
I smiled reassuringly at Shiloh, adrenaline pumping through me as Cyrus got to work. The pain of the tattoo gun vibrated through me, pins and needles but a deep, steady touch that was easier to take. Nothing like hands on me. Nothing to trigger the trauma.
Occasionally, he’d call Shiloh over. They’d ask if they could touch me.
I’d told Cyrus ahead of time to have Shiloh touch me—even if not strictly needed for the tattoo job—so that we could work on my limits.
“Shiloh’s going to reposition your arm slightly so I can get a better angle. That okay?” Cyrus asked.
“Yeah.”
Shiloh cupped the back of my arm and gently urged it forward. “Like this?”
“Little bit more and tilt like…yeah,” Cyrus said. “Holden, how are you doing?”
“Okay,” I said.
It was a little like being underwater. I was present, but everything beyond the touch my body was experiencing was muted. It overtook all my senses.
Until Shiloh leaned in, eyes on mine. “I love you.”
I exhaled a shaky breath, snapping to awareness. “Love you too.”
“Can I kiss you?”
“Please,” I said, suddenly needing the connection. The reassurance.
His lips brushed mine. I couldn’t help it. The nerves, the adrenaline, the pain of the tattooing. It all conspired to make lust rise up hot and sudden.
I surged forward, kissing him harder.
He gasped, which gave me an opening to sweep my tongue inside and taste him.
He pulled back and glanced around. Cyrus had wisely left us alone for a minute. The color in Shiloh’s cheeks made me want to beg to suck his cock again.
I licked my lips, and he tracked the motion.
“I’m so fucking hard for you right now,” I said.
