Two weeks had passed since Mia’s first session, and the wildflower vine tattoo had healed into a beautiful, tender mark along her ribs and hip. She had spent every day carefully hiding it from David, wearing loose shirts, avoiding intimacy by claiming headaches or tiredness, and showering alone. The guilt gnawed at her constantly, but so did the throbbing memory of Jax’s hands on her skin. The pain. The pleasure. The way she had come home soaked and aching for more.
She booked the second private session for 11 p.m. on a Thursday.
Jax was waiting for her, the studio even dimmer than before. He locked the door behind her with a soft click that sent butterflies through her stomach.
“Missed you,” he said simply, pulling her into a deep kiss the moment she stepped inside. No pretense this ti
