Clipped Wings

by Helena Hunting

  “We need to dial it down,” I said, trying for calm with a throat full of gravel.

  “You want this,” she argued, her fingers dipping into the waistband, grazing the head of my cock through the thin barrier of my boxers.

  “Ah, shit.” I groaned. Against my better judgment, I put my hand over hers and removed it once again. “I’m not disputing that.”

  “Then why are you dialing it down?” she mocked, but she stopped fighting against my hold.

  I didn’t let go of her hand this time, because I didn’t trust her complicity. “It’s complicated.”

  Her legs went limp and she pushed on my chest, shoving me away. “You’re with someone.”

  It was an accusation. She believed it to be true; I could see it in that hot, angry glare of hers.

  “Do I look like the kind of guy who has a girlfriend?” Antagonism cut through, making it sound harsher than I intended. She shrank away from me and pulled her knees up to her chest like a barricade. I couldn’t blame her. She’d let me into her apartment and I’d gotten all up on her and then rejected her. I was such a dick.

  “Fuck,” I muttered, frustrated I’d broken the only rule I ever tried to follow. Especially with someone I actually liked and wanted to know. And now I hurt her feelings in the process.

  She shook her head, a rueful smile turning up the corner of her mouth. “No. Of course not. That would mean you’d have to let someone really see you.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I snapped, unaccustomed to being called out.

  “Nothing. Forget I said anything. You should go. I have essays to mark and a class to teach in the morning.”

  She slid off the counter and adjusted her shirt. I was right in her face when she looked up. Her eyes were watery, swimming with pain so deep I immediately felt remorse for getting upset. I’d been the one to start and end this when I shouldn’t have done either. There was a very real possibility that she would have let me fuck her on the counter. I didn’t know how I felt about that. Under different circumstances I wouldn’t have thought twice. With Tenley it was a problem. And not because of some stupid rule. She didn’t fit into the same category as the women I had been with in the past. I didn’t want her to, either.

  “Tenley. It’s not—”

  “Please don’t,” she whispered, her lip trembling. A tiny mew came from beside her. I’d forgotten all about the kitten. Tenley picked her up, diverting her attention away from me.

  I wanted to explain, but I couldn’t. She wouldn’t understand. If she knew what was under all the ink and the steel, she wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me.

  “Do you want me to leave?” I wanted to stay and make it better.

  Tenley focused on the kitten, shoving her nose into its fur as she skirted around me, giving me a wide berth. “That’s probably best.”

  She held the door open and stared at the wall as she waited for me to put my shoes on. I stepped into the hall. “I’m really so—”

  “Please don’t apologize.” Tenley cut me off, her smile empty and too bitter.

  “Right. Okay. I’ll see you on Tuesday, though?”

  “For what?”

  “So I can check on your ink.”

  “See you later, Hayden.”

  She closed the door without giving me a real answer, which I supposed was an answer in itself. I heard the distinct sound of a lock clicking into place, followed by a soft thud as I started down the hall. Before I could make it very far, though, a low, despondent sound came from the other side of the door.

  I hoped I could find a way to fix what I had broken.

  13

  TENLEY

  I was starving. And not for food. Deprived of human connection and physical contact, I had been wasting away. Until Hayden kissed me. That changed everything. It was akin to being denied the buffet and given an appetizer as a consolation prize. It wasn’t even close to enough. I wanted more of him.

  Every sociology course I’d taken as an undergraduate had brought me to the same conclusion: human beings craved emotional attachment. What I hadn’t realized was just how deep that need ran and how the right person could make all the difference.

  In the past ten months every true connection I’d had was severed. It was like having pieces of my heart gouged out until it became Swiss cheese. In the first few months after the crash I hadn’t been able to handle any affection. Once I was released from the hospital into Trey’s care, it got infinitely worse. He was as warm and fuzzy as a dead porcupine.

  Any physical contact after that had been limited to sympathy hugs and prodding from doctors. Since moving to Chicago it had dwindled to the occasional affectionate squeeze from Cassie. I could count on one hand how many times that had happened. Then there were the myriad of piercings I’d asked Lisa to put in my body. None of those had felt particularly pleasant, although the pain was nothing compared to what I’d already endured.

  But the brief contact from Hayden in the form of fleeting touches and kisses on the cheek had awakened feelings that bulldozed over my attempt at isolation and solitude. After being in his chair for an hour with his hands on me, even with the facade of professional detachment, I was covetous for more. I didn’t realize how ravenous I’d been until after the tattoo session.

  It made me reckless and impulsive.

  I hadn’t meant for it to happen, but it had been so long since I’d been touched in any capacity outside of consolation or medical intervention. Hayden’s touch both calmed and warmed me. I was tired of fighting my attraction to him. So I made a bad decision. I gave in to it.

  The last time I was kissed was when Connor told me he needed to use the restroom on the plane. The one in first class was occupied, so he went to coach. It was just a peck on the cheek. I never saw him alive again.

  Even if my last kiss from Connor had been memorable, I could say with absolute certainty that no kiss from him compared to the one I shared with Hayden. It was like setting off an atomic bomb of desire. It wiped out everything but him.

  I thought I understood physical attraction, but in the wake of the unbound longing Hayden inspired in one kiss, I began to see how naïve I’d been. While I loved Connor and always would, he never held a fraction of the allure Hayden did. I didn’t know what to do with the overwhelming need for more of him.

  Facing Hayden after tonight wasn’t going to be pleasant. Beyond the mortification of rejection, which I hoped I could handle, I was terrified he would reconsider being my tattooist. I needed it to be him. He was broken, too, maybe not as badly as me, but he understood loss. It was reflected in the art he wore on his body, in his reluctance to put the design on me without knowing why I wanted it. The tattoo was my absolution, and I trusted Hayden to make it happen. It was about more than body art, though; pretending otherwise was a lie. I wanted his touch and the closeness that came with it. I craved the connection I’d found with him, even if I shouldn’t.

  I dealt with the situation by not dealing with it. I went through the motions, got up in the morning, attended school, worked through more revisions for my jerk of an advisor, taught classes and marked papers, went to work.

  Hiding things from Cassie was a challenge. She was perceptive and nurturing. She made me want to tell her everything, but I couldn’t. She was too close to Hayden to be safe.

  Above all else, I evaded Hayden. I was embarrassed by the way I’d thrown myself at him. Regardless of the rejection, I was also terrified I would do it again. He stopped by more than once the following evening, and each time I would disappear. At one point Cassie sent him down to the basement, where I was sorting new acquisitions. I hid inside an old wardrobe. I came upstairs a while later to find Cassie organizing trinkets on a shelf.

  “Any particular reason you’re avoiding Hayden?” she asked.

  Normally she wasn’t so up-front. She picked up one of the fragile figurines and dusted it off.

  “I’m not avoiding him.”

  “Really? He’s been in here three t
imes today, he’s testy and he keeps asking for you, but you always seem to vanish the second he comes in the door. Twenty minutes ago I sent him downstairs to find you, and he told me you weren’t there.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Cassie laughed and set the figurine back on the shelf. “Oh honey, everything about Hayden is complicated.”

  I sighed. “I’m fully aware.”

  “Is it about the tattoo?” she asked, her concern genuine.

  “Yes and no. That’s part of it.”

  When I didn’t offer any more information, Cassie sighed. “I’m not sure which one of you is worse. I don’t think I’ve met two more secretive people in my life. Look, whatever is going on between you is your business, but I’ll be honest—I’ve never seen Hayden so wrapped up in anything besides his art.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  Cassie gave me a sad smile. “I’m not going to pretend I know your story, Tenley, but I do know Hayden carries around his past with him and it’s a burden he can’t unload. Be patient with him. Whatever the problem is, it’s clear he wants to set it right.”

  “I just need some time to figure things out,” I said.

  “Fair enough. Did you need me to relay that message?”

  “If you think it would help.”

  * * *

  On Tuesday, Nate picked Cassie up early, so I was on my own for the last few hours of the night. Hayden didn’t stop in, giving me the reprieve I asked for, even though I wasn’t sure it was what I wanted. The hours until closing seemed endless. I watched the door, waiting for Hayden’s patience to give out. It didn’t. I could see Jamie and Chris through the window, working on clients. Hayden and Lisa were nowhere to be found.

  After locking up, I went straight home and changed into comfy clothes so I wouldn’t give in to the urge to go over to Inked Armor. The kitten gave a groggy little mew when I tossed my shirt and bra on the bed and pulled on my favorite hoodie.

  “Hi, baby girl.” I gave her a little scratch under the chin and she started to purr. “Did you have a good day? Are you hungry?” I made a quick trip to the kitchen for her milk. As an afterthought, I grabbed a few articles, some highlighters and a pen so I could work on my thesis while I hung out with her in my bedroom. It seemed to be her favorite place to sleep. When she had enough milk, she snuggled into me, her wet nose tickling my neck. I settled back against the pillows, stroking her soft fur as I read and scribbled notes in the margins.

  I was on the last page when a knock at the door startled me. I tossed the article onto the nightstand, capped the pen and settled the kitten back on the bed where I’d found her, glad Sarah was home early. She always had an answer when it came to men, usually accompanied by a dose of cynicism. I turned the dead bolt but forgot about the chain latch above. In the narrow gap stood not Sarah but Hayden, holding a six-pack of beer and a bag.

  I didn’t want to be happy to see him. “How did you get up here?”

  He dangled a key and quickly jammed it in his pocket. “Helps when you know the landlady.” He ran a finger along the chain barring his entrance. “Can I come in?”

  I unlocked the chain latch but stood in the doorway, keeping him in the hall. “What’s up?”

  “You’re not going to let me in?”

  “Why should I? So you can get me all hot and bothered, only to leave all over again?” I couldn’t believe I said that.

  “I got you hot?” Hayden asked, looking rather pleased.

  I tried to shut the door, but his arm shot through the gap.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I just want to talk.”

  “Last time you just wanted cupcakes.”

  He latched onto the inside of the doorframe. “Please? Come on, Tenley, I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” My anger masked my embarrassment as I recalled what Hayden’s not-so-good behavior felt like. I couldn’t avoid him forever. Not if I still wanted him as my artist. Better to deal with the situation on my turf than his. The art was secondary, though. I needed his proximity more than I needed the tattoo. Not that I would tell him. I opened the door and moved aside to let him in.

  “Nice outfit.” His eyes traveled down and stopped below my knees. “Are those leg warmers?”

  “Do you have a problem with them?” I asked, nervous now that the door no longer created a barrier of safety. I had no idea how to approach this.

  “Not at all, but you probably wouldn’t need them if you were a little more covered up.”

  I was wearing shorts. The leg warmers covered my calves. “Is my artless skin offensive?”

  “Hardly. My life would be a lot easier if that was the case.”

  “Why are you here? Other than to comment on my choice of sleepwear.”

  “That’s what you wear to bed?”

  “Why would what I wear to bed matter to you?”

  He tapped his temple. “It helps with the . . . never mind. I brought some stuff for TK, and I thought maybe we could have a beer or something.”

  “TK?”

  “The Kitten.”

  He walked around me, put the beer on the counter, and emptied the contents of the bag. There were treats, kitten milk, and a bunch of toys. Hayden sorted the toys and treats into neat piles. He was thoughtful, which frustrated me more.

  I walked around the breakfast bar, putting the counter between us. I needed the distance. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know.” He slid a beer across the counter toward me. When I reluctantly took the bottle, he twisted off the cap. I tipped it back, swallowed, and waited.

  “You avoided me yesterday.”

  He was right. I didn’t respond.

  “And you didn’t come by the shop today like you were supposed to.”

  “And you’re surprised because—”

  “I don’t know why Lisa thought I could do this. I really suck at this shit,” he said, more to himself than to me. “Look, I should be sorry about what happened the last time I was here, but I’m not, and that’s a problem.”

  That was not at all what I expected to hear. “I’m not quite following.”

  He shifted, looking uncomfortable. “We have this rule at the shop, and it’s pretty much the only one I ever try to follow. I don’t sleep with clients.”

  I couldn’t imagine Hayden sleeping with anyone. I could imagine him doing other things, though. Inside I was flipping out at his inference. The way Hayden was talking, it sounded like he wanted to take it a lot further than the kiss. He was standing in the exact same place he’d been in two nights ago. Except I was on the wrong side of the counter, which made the speculation impossible to confirm.

  “Last time I checked, making out isn’t quite the same thing,” I said, maintaining a neutral expression.

  “Sorry. Let me clarify. I don’t fuck around with clients.”

  “What constitutes ‘fucking around’?”

  Hayden’s lip twitched. “What happened when I was here last constitutes fucking around.”

  “Right.” I took another sip. I was pushing him on purpose; because I was hurt, because I wanted more and he was telling me in no uncertain terms I couldn’t have him. My natural inclination was to find a way around it. What he offered was so much more than just ink on my skin and the solace of his touch. “So just to make sure I’m completely clear about this, kissing and groping are facets of fucking around.”

  “Can you stop saying that?”

  “Stop saying what?”

  “Fucking around.”

  “Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I swore I could hear his teeth grit together. Antagonizing him wasn’t helpful. I could see the issue in getting physically involved with a client, but I doubted Hayden made house calls to other clients or bought their pets toys and treats. He was usually so controlled that breaking some arbitrary rule over me seemed significant.

  “Then what’s the problem?” I as
ked.

  “Nothing. Never mind. Say fucking around as much as you want.”

  “Would you like to explain the parameters of fucking around? Just so I know.”

  His tongue ring appeared between his lips and slid back and forth. He did that a lot around me.

  “Just like you said, kissing, groping, anything that would lead to you being naked and underneath me.”

  I almost choked on my beer, but I recovered quickly, not wanting to give him the upper hand. “Got it. Because me naked under you would be a bad thing.”

  “Very bad,” Hayden agreed. He didn’t launch himself over the counter, but it looked like he wanted to.

  “And if I wasn’t your client?”

  “But you are.”

  “But if I wasn’t?”

  Hayden stalked around the counter and stood over me. “I am your tattooist. No one else is putting that design on you.”

  “Territorial much?”

  His nostrils flared. “Yes.”

  “Are you this possessive about all your work?”

  “No, just yours.”

  The admission pleased me. “What happens when you finish the tattoo?”

  Hayden’s lips curled up into a treacherous smile. “The rule doesn’t apply anymore.”

  “And what’s the time line on that look like?”

  “Best-case scenario? Two months at the very least.”

  Two months would feel like an eternity. I wondered if Hayden would be able to follow his own rule for two months. I wondered if I would. Especially with him standing over me, close enough to touch, looking at me the way he was.

  While the tattoo would give me some of what I craved in the form of his company, it wouldn’t be enough. Not now that I had the memory of his mouth. I didn’t want to be without it for that long. It was about more than the physical connection, even though I was reluctant to acknowledge it.

  That unfamiliar longing he incited welled up again, taking over, drowning out reason and logic. Hayden wanted me in the same way I wanted him. His previous actions and our current discussion proved that. In my previous life I might have backed down. But I’d spent enough time playing by rules I didn’t like. Hayden tapped into the part of me that wanted to push the boundaries as far as I could, repercussions be damned. “Just so you’re aware, I think your rule is stupid.”