“Okay!” I roll my eyes then shut the door and jump the fence.
I walk in without knocking, a bad habit of mine. Aunt Lila and Uncle Ethan are in the kitchen, chatting about something.
“Hey,” Aunt Lila greets me when I close the back door. “How’d everything go with the family dinner?”
“It seems to be going okay, but that’s usually the case when wine is involved.” I slip my sandals off and walk into the kitchen. “They said you two should go over and chat for a while.”
“I think we could do that for a bit, right?” Lila says to Ethan. “It is the weekend, and no one has practice or anything.”
He shrugs as he moves for the cupboard. “It’s fine by me. I’m not working this weekend.”
“Is Ayden upstairs?” I ask, walking backwards for the stairway.
“He is.” Lila eyes me warily from across the kitchen. “If you go up there, you better make sure you keep that door open.”
“My mother said the exact same thing.” I pause at the bottom step. “How’d his tattoo go?”
“He seems okay,” Ethan answers, opening the fridge. “I think he handled it better when you were there, but he still did pretty okay today.”
Ethan’s version of okay can be a little iffy since he’s fine with almost everything.
Without saying anything else, I turn around and trot up the stairs. When I reach Ayden’s closed bedroom door, I knock as I walk in, something I’ve done since the day we met.
He’s sitting on his bed, writing in his journal with his leg stretched out and his back propped against the headboard.
“Hey,” he says, smiling at me.
“Whatcha doing?” I plop down on the bed beside him, roll on my side, and prop up on my elbow.
“Just writing about what happened today.” He closes the journal, tosses it on the nightstand, and lies down facing me. “About how good it felt to get that damn mark all covered up.”
“Hey, we’re going over to your house for a little while.” Lila pokes her head in, suspicion crossing her face as she eyes Ayden and me on the bed. “Would you two mind sitting on the floor?”
Ayden sighs but climbs off the bed, and I begrudgingly follow. He takes a seat in his computer chair, and I sit down on the trunk near the foot of his bed.
“Everson and Kale are sleeping over at a friend’s house,” she informs us. “And Fiona is downstairs in the den watching some weird documentary about psychics. Keep an eye on her, please, and keep this door open at all times.”
She pushes the door open all the way before backing toward the hall. “I’m going to set the alarm, but if you need anything at all, we’re right next door. We shouldn’t be long.” She steps back, pushing on the door again, even though it’s already open to the wall.
“They’ll be gone for more than a while,” I say once I hear the front door shut. “Ava and her husband are there, and you know how chatty Lila is with new people. Plus, they have the wine out.”
Ayden chuckles as he spins the chair from side to side. “That’s okay. They should enjoy themselves. I think I put a lot of stress on them today.”
“So, how did today go?” I ask, leaning back on my hands.
“Okay.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I mean, it would have been better if you were there, but I made it through it and feel pretty good right now.”
“Can I . . . ?” I bite down on my lip, wondering if I should ask.
“Can you what?” he wonders with his forehead creased.
I let my lip pop free. “Can I see the tattoo?”
He hesitates before his fingers drift toward the bottom of his dark grey T-shirt. “Yeah, sure.”
“Are you sure?” I double check. “You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.”
“No . . . I want to.” He grips the fabric. “Besides, you should get to see your artwork.” Summoning a deep inhale, he lifts the shirt up and slips one arm out of the sleeve.
Bright red and gold ink splatters up his side along with intricate shades that contrast with the dark lines of the feathers and cover the mark.
“It’s gorgeous.” You’re gorgeous. “Cole did an amazing job.” I climb off the trunk and move in front of Ayden to get a better look. “Man, I so need to get a tattoo.” Instinctively, I reach forward to touch him, but realize he’s probably not going to like that, so I pull back.
Ayden catches my hand. “I want to try something,” he whispers, his voice strained.
I nod, even though I don’t have a damn clue what he’s about to do. Don’t care, though. Let him do whatever he wants with me.
He slowly guides my hand back to him and, with an uneven breath, places my palm on his chest. His heart is hammering and slams against my hand.
I don’t say anything. I can barely breathe, knowing how important this moment is to him—to us.
“Your skin’s so soft,” I utter, afraid to move my hand and ruin the moment.
His hands slide to my hips, and his fingers inch up my shirt. “So’s yours.” He traces his finger back and forth along the speck of flesh.
A shiver courses through me, and I suddenly can’t breathe.
Air ripped from my lungs.
Heart bleeding.
I need to see all of him,
Every inch,
Feel the softness of him against me.
I want it so badly my soul aches.
I start to draw back because it seems like we could both use a break from the intensity, but my hands have other ideas, and my fingers drift up his chest. When he doesn’t protest, I inch my hand higher, keeping our eyes locked, making sure he’s all right. I don’t want to push him. If he so much as even looks like he’s freaking out, I’ll stop in a heartbeat.
When his eyes snap wide, I jerk back. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” He counts to three under his breath then, with a swift yank, removes his shirt. “I want to . . .” His breath falters as I take in the sight of him.
While he was getting his tattoo, I tried my best not to stare. Right now, all I do is stare. Stare, stare, stare forever. He’s not ripped like a jock or sculpted like a model. He’s lean and toned and has a few scars on his skin. He’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, and it almost makes me cry that he’s mine.