Bad Intentions (Bad Love)

by Charleigh Rose

  He doesn’t comment, though, thankfully. I spend the rest of my shift on autopilot. I can’t seem to get Dare out of my mind. At first, I couldn’t believe that he thought it was a good idea to buy me expensive things, knowing everything he does about Eric. I can’t be bought, and I thought I made that clear. But when I saw what it was, I realized the difference. Dare bought those things for me because he knew I’d need them. Because he cared. Eric used to buy me material things—jewelry, electronics, fancy dresses. All frivolous shit that served his own selfish wants and needs.

  Dare made Sutton agree not to tell me who it was from. She didn’t, but I knew right away it had to be him. Who else would it be? Once I saw the men’s clothing, I was done for. The fact that he considered Jess in this whole thing had me swallowing a lump in my throat and fighting back tears. Dare is selfless and kind and caring, but he’d rather slam his hand in a door than let anyone know.

  “Ready to drink, bitch?” Sutton asks as we ditch our aprons and freshen up in front of the mirror in the break room.

  “Actually, yes.” Jess is at wrestling again, and Henry’s house is practically vacant.

  “You wanna go somewhere else or just drink here?”

  “Here,” I say, wanting to stay close for reasons I don’t want to decipher. Plus, free drinks. Can’t beat free.

  “I thought you might say that.” She rolls her eyes. “But that works because I want to get a tattoo afterward. If I work up enough liquid courage, that is.”

  “What are you going to get?”

  “I want the phases of the moon right here,” she says, gesturing to the inside of her upper arm. “Here, let me show you.” She pulls out her phone, scrolling before showing me the screen as we walk toward the barstools. It’s a vertical row of eight moons in various phases.

  “I dig it. And I bet they’d take you as a walk-in. That probably wouldn’t take too long.”

  “Then booze me up, baby!”

  “Oh, this should be good.” Jake laughs, amused, once we take our seats at the barstools. He doesn’t ask what we want. Instead, he slides two lemon drops our way before handing me a beer and Sutton her Jack and Coke. I look down to see two missed calls from a private number, but I don’t want to think about Eric right now, so I turn my phone off and stuff it into my bag.

  “Thank you, kind sir,” Sutton says and then raises her shot glass to mine. “To liquid courage,” she declares, and we clink our glasses together.

  Liquid courage. I could use some of that. Because this thing with Dare…I think it’s starting to get real. And that scares me more than I want to admit. I’m about four beers in when the conversation turns to him. Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long.

  “Guys who want casual don’t usually buy clothes for you and your little brother, do they?” I ask, maybe a little too loudly.

  “Nope,” Sutton says, popping the word from her lips. “Especially when they’re already getting that ass for free.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.” I prop my chin in the palm of my hand. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I register that I essentially just admitted to sleeping with Dare. “I think I like him.”

  “I think you’re an idiot if you’re just now realizing it.”

  “You’re a real peach.” I laugh, taking another swig of beer. “Are you liquored up enough to get your tattoo yet?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Sutton downs the rest of her drink and slams it on the bar top. I hop off my stool, and I suddenly feel a little drunker than I thought I was. I feel happy and buzzed and excited at the thought of seeing Dare.

  “Be careful,” Jake calls after us as we’re walking toward the door.

  Sutton slings an arm around my shoulder and yells back, “Never,” causing Jake to roll his eyes.

  “Have you guys ever hooked up?”

  “Ew, Jake?”

  “Yes! He’s kind of protective of you.”

  Sutton shakes her head. A strand of her sleek black hair gets stuck to my lips with the movement, and I spit it out, making us both laugh.

  “No, you dumbass. He’s protective of you,” she says right as we enter Bad Intentions. My face screws up in confusion. Jake barely knows me. Why would he feel protective of me?

  “What up, girl?” Matty greets me, pulling me in for a hug.

  “I brought you a present,” I say, gesturing to Sutton. “Got time for a walk-in?”

  “Hell yeah. What do you have in mind?”

  Sutton nods, and she pulls out her phone. The two of them start discussing placement and coloring, but I check out of the conversation when I see Dare. His head is down as he ambles in from the back. A pencil in his mouth, sketchbook in hand. A piece of dark hair hangs in front of one eye, and he jerks his head to flip it out of the way. Once he notices me, he falters for half a second.

  “Hi,” I say, walking toward him.

  “Hey, Sally,” he says with a smirk. He sits at his stool, and I follow, plopping down on his tattoo chair thingy.

  “What is this thing called, anyway?” I ask, swinging my legs onto the chair, then leaning back into a reclining position. “I should probably know these things. I’m like the worst tattoo shop girl ever.”

  Dare chuckles. “A…tattoo chair?” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Client chair, if you’re fancy.”

  “Pft. Fancy is my middle name.”

  Dare squints one eye, assessing. “Something is different.”

  “What?”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “I mean…I’m not not drunk,” I admit, earning another laugh from him. I love the sound. “I like it when you’re happy.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, my cheeks burn hot. I didn’t mean to say it out loud. Not much embarrasses me, but revealing too much about how I feel is the exception.

  “I like it when you’re unfiltered,” he counters.

  “I’m always unfiltered.”

  “I like it when you’re forthcoming then. How’s that?”

  The only one I’ve been lying to is myself about how I feel for him. I don’t say that, though.

  Matty and Sutton come from the direction of the drawing room, and she sits in his chair, next to Dare’s station. I didn’t even notice that they had gone back there. Matty coats the inside of Sutton’s arm with a mixture of soap and water before applying the stencil to her skin.

  “Check it out,” he says, handing her a handheld mirror.

  “Perfect,” she beams. “Let’s do this.”

  “I want a tattoo,” I declare suddenly.

  “As much as I’d love that—and I would fucking love it a lot—no can do.”

  “I’ll do it!” Cordell calls from somewhere in the back. I whip my head in his direction, but I still don’t see him. I didn’t even know he was here.

  “The fuck you will!” Dare yells over his shoulder before turning his attention back to me. “You’re drunk. I can’t tattoo you tonight.”

  “But Sutton’s drunk, too.” Resorting to tattling to get my way. It’s a new low for me.

  “Am not! I had one drink! You had like five. Proceed,” she says to Matty with a wave of her hand. Come to think of it, besides the lemon drop, she did nurse the same drink the whole time.

  “Come on, Dare Bear.” I stick out my bottom lip, and he lifts an eyebrow, clearly amused. I need to up my game. “I think I want it riiiiight here,” I say, folding the band of my leggings down dangerously low. Dare’s eyes narrow, and I bite my bottom lip at the look in them. He groans before slipping a finger underneath, slowly pulling them back into place. My skin breaks out in goosebumps, and he gives me a knowing look. “You’re always so cold.”

  Something dark passes over Dare’s features as his eyes lock onto mine, but he shakes it away. “If you’re serious about it and you still want one tomorrow, we’ll talk. Besides the fact that you could change your mind when your buzz wears off, you’ll probably bleed more and delay your healing process. I’m not doing th
at to you.” The hand that adjusted my pants has curved around my hip, and even that slight touch has my insides feeling floaty, like a balloon full of helium.

  “Fine.”

  “Do you know what you want?”

  I haven’t thought that far ahead. Instead of admitting that, I say, “I want you to choose.”

  “What?” His forehead scrunches up, confusion written all over that pretty face.

  “You heard me. I want something that represents me. Something beautiful. I trust you.” As I’m saying it, I realize how true it is. Dare is covered in beautiful. I trust his taste. He’s also insanely talented.

  “You sure about that?” Dare asks, his voice a little raspier than before. I nod, looking deep into his eyes to convey my sincerity.

  The door dings, effectively breaking the moment. Dare excuses himself to greet the customer, who’s a walk-in, and I opt to hang out with Cordell to pass the time.

  “Wanna shoot some pool?” Cord asks, handing me a bottle of beer from the fridge.

  “Depends on if you can handle being beat by a girl.”

  “I’ll try my best,” Cord says, laughing. I might be exaggerating my skills, but I’m decent. I practically grew up in the shithole bars that Crystal dragged us to while she was on the hunt for men, money, drugs, or a combination of the three. Jess was too young to realize what was going on, so I made it fun for him by letting him pick the songs on the free jukebox and playing pool.

  Jess actually got so good that he was hustling grown ass men by the age of seven. They were very drunk men who were shit at pool in the first place, but it was impressive nonetheless. Naturally, Crystal saw an opportunity and tried to use him to her advantage. That’s when I started insisting we stay home. We could scheme and hustle all day long, but I wasn’t going to let her benefit. I never understood why we had to go with her in the first place. I was eleven, but I’d been babysitting Jess since the ripe old age of seven. It didn’t occur to me until later that maybe we were unknowingly part of her scheming. People always felt bad for kids and animals. If only she’d had a dog…

  I lean forward and break, making my shot. “I call solids.”

  Cord’s eyes widen just a little. “Lucky shot.”

  “Totally.” I laugh.

  I’m rusty and intoxicated, but I end up winning the first game, which prompts Cordell to declare, “Best two out of three.” He wins the second, and then the third, but it was a close game.

  “BOOM!” he yells, throwing his hands in the air. Dare must be finished, because he shows up, looking between the two of us. “I won,” he explains to Dare. I roll my eyes.

  “Only because I scratched on the eight ball.”

  “Aw, don’t be a sore loser.” He throws an arm around my shoulders, turning his attention to Dare. “Your girl here has mad skills.”

  “You have no idea.”

  His insinuation, along with the fact that he didn’t deny me being “his girl,” has my stomach flipping with anticipation. As if reading the look in my eyes, Dare reaches for my hand and pulls me toward him.

  “You have your keys?” he asks Cordell.

  “Yeah, yeah. Get out of here.”

  Dare drags me through the shop, and I practically have to run to keep up. I stop to admire Sutton’s tattoo for half a second before she waves me off, telling me she’ll show me tomorrow. We’re almost to the truck when Dare asks me where my coat is.

  “Shit. I left my stuff at Blackbear.” How was that only earlier today? It’s been the longest day ever.

  “Wait in the truck.”

  A minute later, he’s back, bags in hand. He tosses me my jacket, shoving the rest into the back seat. I put it on and zip it up to my chin.

  “Good?”

  “It’s perfect.”

  Dare gives a brusque nod before starting the truck.

  “Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he says, scratching at the hair at the back of his neck, his signature move when he feels uncomfortable.

  “I want to.” And I plan to thank him in other ways tonight.

  The rest of the ride is filled with sexual tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. I know exactly what’s going to happen when we get to his house. Hell, the whole shop knows exactly what’s going to happen.

  When we pull up, Dare retrieves my bags from the back and carries them inside. He drops them at the door before turning to me. Sliding a cold hand around the back of my neck, he leans his forehead down to rest against mine.

  “You’re always so warm,” he says, slipping his other hand up the back of my shirt. I shiver, but I lean into his touch anyway, gladly giving away all my warmth. Letting my purse fall to the floor, I push up on my toes, bringing my lips to his stubbled cheek. Dare clenches his eyes shut, as if in physical pain. I leave another kiss next to the first, then another, and another. I cup his cheek with one hand, pressing my lips to his sharp jaw, making my way to his mouth. I kiss his top lip first, and his mouth parts, letting me explore. When I suck the bottom one into my mouth, he groans, lifting me by my ass, and finally kisses me back.

  He surprises me when he walks me over to the counter, sitting me on top of one of the barstools. He moves to the fridge, grabbing himself a bottled water, then stands on the opposite side of the counter.

  “Don’t tell me you’re not going to fuck me, either,” I say, disappointment lacing my tone.

  “You may be too drunk for a tattoo, but I never said anything about being too drunk to fuck.”

  Thank God. Dare opens the lid before tipping the bottle to his lips. God, even the way his throat moves when he swallows is sexy. As soon as the bottle hits the counter, I slide it toward me and take a drink. Dare rounds the counter, coming to a stop behind me. His arms circle my middle, and he reaches for the zipper of my jacket, pulling down. He peels it off me, letting it fall to the floor, nudging it aside with his foot.

  His hand flattens against my chest, and I wonder if he can feel my heartbeat kicking furiously at his touch. He smooths his palm up my neck, then his fingers wrap around my throat.

  “I want you,” he says, his lips against my ear.

  “Have me.” I roll my head to the side, giving him access to my neck as my eyelids fall shut.

  “I want you every day. And I don’t want anyone else to have you.” His nose grazes up and down the length of my neck.

  “I think that’s called a relationship,” I breathe. He freezes, halting his movements.

  “Then that’s what I want.”

  I don’t trust my ears. Eyes flying open, I twist my head to look into his eyes. He’s serious. There are a million and one reasons we shouldn’t be together. The timing is all wrong. But something inside me tells me this is different. Something in the air tells me things are shifting. Something in his eyes tells me he feels it, too.

  I tilt my head back to answer him with a kiss. His thumb strokes my cheek before the hand at my neck glides down to grip my breast over my shirt as he deepens the kiss.

  I arch my back, pressing into Dare’s hand, and he pinches my nipple through the thin fabric, causing a moan to slip free. Suddenly, his hands are gone as he kneels behind me. I don’t get a chance to ask what he’s doing before a palm between my shoulder blades forces me to lean forward.

  I’m bent over the counter, feet on the bar of the stool, ass lifted from the seat. I jump when he smacks two hands against both cheeks, then squeezes hard. I feel his breath through my leggings—which aren’t much thicker than a pair of tights—and then he’s biting me through the material. My breathing grows harsh as he continues grazing his teeth up and down my thighs, my ass. Sometimes soft nibbles, sometimes hard enough to make me squirm.

  I feel his face move between my legs. He uses his teeth to bite a hole before ripping them wide. I gasp when I hear the rip, feeling the cold air hit me a second before his tongue does.

  Holy shit.

  My elbows are firmly planted on the counter, and I drop my he
ad down as he licks me. My thighs burn from holding this position and my arms are already shaking, but I don’t dare do anything that will stop what he’s doing to me. Dare clutches my hips, arching my butt higher. He eats at me, devouring me from front to back and everything in between.

  “Oh my God,” I cry, my own voice sounding foreign to my ears. Dare nudges me high enough to get underneath me—the back of his head resting on the leather-cushioned stool—before pulling me back down to straddle his face, spreading my legs open wide. His hands that lead to tattooed wrists hook around the tops of my shaky thighs.

  “Fuck my face, Lo.”

  I start to move above him, rocking my hips, but Dare pulls me down, flush against his mouth. I brace my hands on the edge of the counter as he grips my hips. I watch his face move between my legs, shamelessly grinding against his mouth. He licks me from ass to clit, and I shudder at the foreign sensation.

  “You like that?” he asks, his voice taunting, but I’m too wrapped up in lust to be embarrassed. I nod enthusiastically, unable to focus on words. Suddenly, he slides out from underneath me, and I could cry at the loss. He drags a hand down his mouth, wiping my wetness from his stubble.

  “Turn around.” His tone has shifted, along with the look in his eyes. The sweet words and gentle touches were Stefan, but this is Dare, and my stomach swirls with excitement.

  I sit back down on the stool, facing the opposite way. Dare walks around the counter and reaches into a high cabinet, his icy eyes heavy-lidded, before coming to stand behind me again. I hear him fiddling with something, unscrewing a cap, maybe, before he sets the white glass jar labeled coconut oil onto the counter next to me, the lid falling to the floor with a loud clang.

  Dare’s hands on my hips slide me backwards so my ass is hanging off the stool. I don’t have time to question it before his hands are there, between my legs, coating everything. I hear him undressing behind me as I hold my breath, waiting for his next move. I’m shaking for him, for whatever he’s about to give me.

  I don’t have to wait long, because two seconds later, I feel his tip notching against my entrance, hot and hard. He slides into my pussy effortlessly, thanks to my arousal and the coconut oil. Knees locked together, I push back against him, but after a few thrusts, he pulls out with a curse.