Clipped Wings (32 page)

“Thanks for staying last night, and sorry if I kept you up,” Tenley told her.

Sarah gave Tenley a tentative hug. “Call me if you need anything.”

As nice as the offer was, it was unnecessary. I planned to be available to service all of Tenley’s needs.

Once she was gone, I stroked along Tenley’s arm. “I’d like to wash your back now.”

I took her hand and guided her to the bathroom. If shit hadn’t gone down last night, I would have removed the plastic wrap and cleaned the tattoo before she went to bed. However, things hadn’t gone as planned.

“Where do you want me?” Tenley asked when we were both standing on the black mat covering the tile floor.

There were a variety of answers to that question. I wanted to take her sitting on the vanity, where I could see my art reflected in the mirror and her face close to mine. I wanted to bend her over that same vanity to experience the opposite view. And that was just for starters.

I motioned to the edge of the tub. “There is good.”

Tenley took a seat while I collected items from her linen closet. The navy towels were a safe bet, saving her pale ones from being ruined with ink stains. The first step was to clean off the excess fluids so the tattoo would heal properly. It wasn’t going to feel good.

When I turned around, Tenley had already removed the apron and her shorts. There was no underwear. She sat demurely on the edge of the tub, legs crossed, hands cupping her breasts, the picture of modesty. I gripped the towel in my hand, staring at her naked, perfectly imperfect body, with its scars and markers of past trauma.

“I thought this would make it easier,” she said with apologetic innocence.

“I’m sure you did.”

She reached for the towel in my hand, presumably to cover herself, but I held it out of reach. I dropped down beside her, taking in the soft swell of her bare ass on the white porcelain rim of the tub. I thought the apron and the shorts in the kitchen had been bad. Oh, how wrong I was. Tenley naked and vulnerable and needy was harder to resist. Maybe part of the problem stemmed from the knowledge that what was coming next would be far from pleasurable. Cleaning her tattoo was necessary, but it was also a catch-22. Based on my physical response to seeing her naked with my art on her skin, the weeklong hiatus would be torture. Especially if she was actively seeking to break me. And I couldn’t blame her for trying. Like Lisa had said, emotions were always heightened after a big session. Tenley was obviously no exception to the rule, so it was up to me to stay in check for as long as I could.

I turned on the water and adjusted the showerhead to the rain setting. While the water warmed, I explained the process step by step to eliminate surprises. She nodded or made a little noise of affirmation but remained silent otherwise. Even though I warned her before letting the water hit her back, she still tried to move away from the spray and the unpleasant sensation. TK mewed at me from her place by the door, clearly concerned about the welfare of her soul mate. Causing Tenley pain made me feel like shit, but it was a means to an end for her, one I understood better because of what the piece represented.

Once the residual fluids were washed away, I lathered up the bar of soap. I went slow, going over the easy parts first, working from her shoulder to her hip, one side at a time. Tenley was patient but tense. I leaned in every so often to drop a kiss on her cheek or her neck and tell her how good she was doing.

“I’m really sorry I lied to you,” she whispered when I was almost finished washing the fresh ink.

“I know.” I smoothed the soap over her skin with extra care. It was such an uncomfortable process. I hated the possibility that she might see it as penance for being dishonest.

“I just didn’t want you to say no or make me wait,” she admitted.

I understood what it was like to want to ease the internal suffering. Through experience, I’d learned that letting the physical pain go didn’t take the other stuff with it, including the memories.

“I get your motivation. But I just don’t want you to keep things from me anymore.”

She peeked over her shoulder at me, eyes watery. “That’s a two-way street, Hayden.”

I paused, unwilling to work on the most difficult part until we had this cleared up. “You know how last week you said you didn’t want the past to bog down what we have because it would change the way I see you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s how I feel about the situation you’re referring to. I need time, just like you did. Give me a week and I’ll tell you what you need to know.” I wouldn’t tell her everything, not even close. But I would explain as best I could what my deal with Sienna had been and why she continued to make my life difficult.

“Whatever your relationship was with her, it won’t change how I feel about you now,” Tenley said, stroking her palm over my knee.

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask how exactly she felt about me. But it wasn’t a good time, not with her being so emotional. If
she
asked
me
that question, I would have no clue what to say, because the truth was too much, even for me.

“Just so we’re on the same page, what Sarah told me last night in no way changes how I feel about you either. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She seemed to relax a little. I left it at that. I hoped she would still feel the same after I dropped my bomb on her, although what Sienna and I had was never something I would classify as a relationship, no matter what Jamie tried to imply.

Tenley squeezed my knee through the hardest part. It didn’t matter how gentle I was; the scars were hypersensitive, particularly with the amount of trauma I’d subjected them to the previous night. The skin on her arms pebbled as she squirmed, a sure sign the discomfort was extreme. Next time I would start with the worst and end with the easiest.

When it was over, she sat with her fists clenched in her lap, shivering. I patted her back dry with the towel, but her skin was raw and sore, so she twisted away.

“You need to take something to help ease the sting,” I said, draping the towel over her shoulders.

“I already took Tylenol,” she replied.

Her palms rubbed up and down her thighs, nails pressing into her knees, like she wanted to control whatever was going on inside. I didn’t like this. I was used to dealing with my own ink and the discomfort that came with it. For me, the aftermath promised a welcome alternative to my internal discord. But the first one had been harder than the rest. Tenley’s was more than twice the size of my introduction to the after-tattoo burn. I’d been ruined at the time, destroyed by a loss that was my fault, and I relished the pain. Because I deserved it. Tenley was in such a different place, and she didn’t have the kind of chemical escape I’d had. Not that I wanted her to.

I crossed over to the vanity and opened her medicine cabinet. The top two rows were dedicated to prescription bottles. Most of them were at least half full. I checked out the labels, something I hadn’t done before. A few of the names sent up red flags. Most I didn’t recognize.

“Do you take all this stuff?”

I didn’t want her to feel judged. But she was right—with every layer uncovered, I began to see her differently. No matter how brutal the damage, she was a fighter and a survivor. I couldn’t figure out what the hell she wanted with me.

Tenley was hunched over, the towel pressed to her chest as she folded in on herself.

I knelt down in front of her, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Tenley? Kitten, do you take all of those regularly?”

“They’re left over from the accident.”

It wasn’t a straight answer. “You want the regular Tylenol or the prescription stuff?”

“Prescription, please.”

I went back to the cabinet and retrieved the bottle.

“I’ll need two. It hurts a lot,” she said softly. And I knew she was referring to more than just the physical scars.

I filled the glass on the edge of the counter and handed it to her. Turning back to the vanity, I surveyed the medications. There were several painkillers of varying intensity. I went for the weakest ones, which were still far stronger than the standard over-the-counter stuff. “How about we start with one, and if it’s still bad in an hour you take another?”

“Okay.”

I shook a pill into my palm and pressed on her bottom lip, encouraging her to open. I dropped the white tablet on her tongue. I heard a crunch and had to suppress a shudder at what I knew must have been a bitter, chemical taste. She drained the contents of the glass. When she was done, I gave her a lingering, chaste kiss. Later I would look up some of the names of the shit she was taking that I couldn’t identify.

“I’m going to take you to school today,” I told her.

“I only have office hours and a meeting with my group. I should be fine.”

“I just fed you codeine. You’re not driving yourself anywhere.”

“I can call Ian and ask him for a ride in or something,” Tenley said, fiddling with the zipper on my hoodie.

“The one who works at The Elbo Room? No fucking way are you getting in a car with that guy.”

“Pardon?”

I sounded like a possessive asshole. Because I was one. I toned down the douche-ness a touch. “I don’t trust him. He’s slimy and you’re medicated and in pain. I’d feel a lot better if I could drive you in and pick you up.” TK bumped her head against my shin, so I scratched under her chin.

“Ian knows I’m not available.”

“Good to know. But I’m still not interested in you getting in his car. He probably drives a piece of crap.”

“I’m pretty sure his car isn’t the issue.”

“Your safety and my peace of mind are important.”

“Fine, you can drive me in.”

“Great,” I said, like it was ever actually up for debate. “You’ll have to wear loose clothing, and no bra—it would mess with the tattoo.”

I left Tenley alone to get dressed, taking TK with me. She came out of her room ten minutes later. Her eyes weren’t as glassy, but her outfit was an issue. She was wearing a pair of form-fitting yoga pants. Her shirt, although looser than usual, gave me an amazing view of her nipples and the lovely little barbells piercing them.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “No way are you meeting with the Nerd Herd dressed in that.”

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“Those dudes you work with.”

“The Nerd Herd? That’s kind of mean. What does that say about me if you call the guys I’m working with something so derogatory?” Tenley frowned. “And what’s wrong with what I’m wearing? I look like I’m going to the gym.”

I seriously doubted Tenley was the kind of girl to hit the treadmill. She just didn’t seem the type. In a different life, before her accident, I could see her as one of those girls who spent her free time hanging out in a park, soaking up the sun while reading something profound. That wasn’t the point, though.

“I find your intelligence incredibly sexy, in case you were unaware. However uneducated I might be, I’m smart enough to know those guys aren’t choosing to work with you just because you’re hot, which makes me justifiably nervous when you’re around them.” I couldn’t believe I was admitting this shit. I pretty much just told her I was insecure. It took her only a fraction of a second to process my inadvertent disclosure, reinforcing how bright she was.

“But you’re brilliant.”

“I barely finished high school.”

“That was circumstantial. You and I both know that doesn’t mean anything. Some of the most renowned geniuses had difficulty in high school. Look at Einstein.”

“I’m not Einstein.”

“No, you have better hair.”

“I don’t even know why we’re talking about this,” I said, uncomfortable with the topic. “The issue is your nipples. They’re practically poking my eyes out. You need to cover up.”

She looked down at her chest to verify her nipples were indeed quite pokey. “I have a jacket.”

“But you’ll take it off,” I pointed out.

She threw up her hands and turned around, heading back to her room with a huff.

“Wait.” I unzipped my hoodie and shrugged it off. “You can wear this.”

She scanned my shirt, her mouth turning up in a cynical smile. “Do people actually ask that?”

“You’d be surprised.” The shirt had been a gift from Cassie. It read, “YES. It hurts. Any more stupid questions?” I held out the hoodie, and she pushed her arms through the sleeves.

It was too big on her. I rolled the cuffs twice before her hands appeared, but it did the job, covering her braless chest. And it was loose, which made it doubly effective. I admired the way my hoodie looked on her; STRYKER was emblazoned on the back in giant black letters, bordered in gold and set against red fabric. Now she was marked by me both under and over her clothes.

“It’s huge.”

“But it works.”

She rubbed the sleeve on her cheek and inhaled. “It smells like you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Good. I like the way you smell.”

“As much as I like the way you taste?” I asked, using her hips to pull her closer.

“Hayden,” she admonished, her palms flattened on my chest. Her protest was feeble and a little breathy, so she didn’t mean it.

I leaned down to kiss her. There was no way I would make it a week.

* * *

Tenley was surprisingly lucid under the influence of Tylenol 3s. Although, based on the severity of her accident and the contents of her medicine cabinet, she’d taken a multitude of much stronger prescriptions for quite some time before moving to something less potent. T3s knocked me on my ass. Although I rarely took medication for anything.

Tenley gave me one of her nippy kisses when I dropped her off at school. Between bites I promised to pick her up in the same place around five. She took the stairs slowly, cautious today, thanks to the fresh ink.

Once she was out of sight I parked in the nearest lot. I backed into a space, angling my car in such a way that no one could use the space beside me. There was no way I would risk some twit dinging the door or damaging the paint job. The attendant came over, bent out of shape and nervous, so I paid for both spots without putting up a fight and assured him I’d only be there for an hour at most.