Dean squinted down at the tiny rose tattoo he was inking, trying to keep the detailing as delicate as possible. The girl was jumping around, though, making it a challenge, to say the least.
“Hey,” she said. “It hurts.”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “I warned you about that, remember? You wanted it right on the breastbone – not much flesh or muscle to absorb the impact of the needle. But I’m almost done, OK? Maybe you need a break?”
“Yeah, for sure.” She sat up, her low-slung jeans cupping her curved ass, her generous breasts squeezed into a black lace bra. Every guy in the place was checking her out, and damned if she didn’t love it. Dean had offered her a light blanket to cover herself, but she had refused. She was obviously the kind of girl who liked to have it all hang out.
Dean leaned back. “
