Tempting

“This?”

I nod to her purple notebook, the one sitting on her desk.

“Oh.” Her cheeks flush. “Right now?”

“Right now.” I let my fingertips brush her hip. Her side. “Why are you up so late?”

“School starts tomorrow.” She pushes herself to her feet. Grabs the journal. Hugs it to her chest. “I can’t sleep.”

“Change is always scary.”

She nods. “You seem to roll with it.”

“What ever changes in my life?”

“Emma’s hair color.”

I can’t help but chuckle.

She climbs back into bed. Brushes her fingers against my upper arm. Then she’s tracing the lines of the tattoo going down to my elbow. “This. It’s new.”

“Depends on your definition of new.”

“You’re like Em with her hair. You look different every time I see you.”

“Every time?”

“Every few weeks.”

“I have to slow down.” I stare back into her gorgeous green eyes. “I’m running out of skin.”

She drags her fingers over my forearm, presses her palm against all the bare skin. “You have plenty.” She drags her fingers over my stomach. Plays with the hem of my t-shirt. “And here.”

“And there.” I soak in her touch as her fingers skim my bare skin.

“You’ve always wanted to do tattoos. As long as I’ve known you.”

“Yeah.”

“What is it about them you love?”

“Everything.”

“But specifically.” She traces the ink over my hip all the way to the waistband of my jeans. “You… you practically left your family over them.”

Yeah, I did. I was a little shit, but then it was the only way. I was never going to be good enough for my parents. “It feels right.”

“That’s it?”

“What else is there?” I watch her trace the outlines of my skin. Watch her eyes travel over my body. Watch her lips purse with a sigh.

She wants me.

I want her.

We’re both in a fucking bed.

I should pull back. I should at least get vertical.

But I don’t.

“When I’m working on someone’s ink, I’m a part of something. I’m leaving a mark in the world. On their skin. That’s forever. I get to help people channel all that shit in their guts onto their skin. There are a million reasons why people get ink. To look cool. To celebrate. To mourn. Being a part of that… it’s fucking amazing.”

She nods. “I wish I had that kind of passion.”

“You do, Kay. The way you get when you’re writing—” I nod to her purple notebook. “It’s still your turn.”

She lets out a soft groan. “Do I have to?”

“No. You could disappoint me.”

“That’s such a dad thing to say.”

How about I bend you over my knee and spank you? Would that be daddy enough for you? “I’m not going to push you.”

She nods as she climbs up the bed and presses her back against her pillow.

She pries open the notebook. Flips through the pages. Her eyes get dreamy. Like she’s lost in her own world.

She turns the page. “Okay. This one. It’s short.”

“Perfect for my attention span,” I offer.

Her laugh is nervous. “Maybe.” Her eyes bore into mine. “Promise you won’t make fun of it.”

I nod.

She looks to the paper. Takes a deep breath. Exhales slowly. “Another stitch.

Another time.

Another love that isn’t mine.

And all the shiny people say

It’s okay

You’ll find another way.

But I always poke the bruise.

Spill a lie. Spin a ruse.

I could draw four aces, but, still, I’d lose.”

She presses her lips together, staring at me, waiting for my response.

Something in me stirs. Something in my bones.

Fuck, I have no idea what it means.

I want to peel her open and pry her apart.

Where does she hide this ache in her heart?

How the fuck do I get my hands on it?

Her cheeks flush as she slaps her notebook together. “You hated it.”

“No. It was beautiful.” Not that I’d know.

“Really?” He cheeks flush. She’s embarrassed. Or scared. Or both.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you.” Her hand falls over my arm.

She nestles into my body, resting her forehead against my chin.

I soak in every inch of her.

Her warmth against my skin. Her breath against my neck. The smell of her shampoo—lavender and honey. Calm and sweet. Exactly like Kay.

“You okay?” I drag my fingertips over her lower back. There’s no way I can sell that this is a friendly gesture. Not to her, not to myself, not to anyone else.

But I don’t care.

“Yeah. Just overwhelmed. With school tomorrow. And, well… something else. But I… I don’t like to talk about it.” She leans closer. “I’ve never told anyone, not anyone who counts.”

“You can tell me anything.” Fuck, I want to break that lock around her heart. I want to drink her in. I want to be her salve. The stars in her sky.

“I know. But this… it would change the way you look at me.”

“Impossible.”

“No. It would. I… I couldn’t take losing this, Brendon. You’re the only person besides Em I trust. And you’re more… well, you’re easier to talk to. You’re just…” She looks up at me. Her eyes fill with affection. Her fingers skim my stomach. The edge of my jeans.