Page 52

“Don’t say ‘get inked,’” I interrupt. “Gross.”

She chuckles. “Okay, fine, despite all my efforts to not make any friends while being tattooed, we formed this weird little friendship by accident.”

“Do souls meet by accident, you think?” I ask.

“I don’t know . . . but I believe certain people cross paths because they’re meant to heal something in each other.”

“Oh yeah?” I raise my brows, glancing down at her. “Have I healed you?”

Anna taps the back of her fork against her lips while she considers the question. “I think you’ve had a profound impact, yes.”

I nod. “I would say you’ve done the same for me.”

She tilts her chin up at me. “How so?”

I stare into her. Fuck, she’s so goddamn pretty. “I haven’t decided yet.”

My focus drops to her plush bottom lip. I want to kiss her. I don’t even need it to go further than a kiss, just one taste of her would leave me walking away with my head held high. Without even realizing I’m doing it, I drop my fork and sweep the pad of my thumb across her lower lip, adding just enough pressure to ease it down slightly. A feral grin curves onto my mouth, and our gazes twine.

This is new territory, but I’m done fighting it. I’ve never wanted someone the way I want Anna.

She inhales, her chest rising as she searches for more. I lean in, just enough to put the idea in her head and give her permission to imagine a step beyond. It’s only fair I make my objectives clear and prepare her for what is inevitable.

Her blazing stare dances when she studies me and I fucking eat it up. The subtle tick of her mischievous smile tells me she’s envisioning the same indecencies that are running through my thoughts. I’m greedy with the moment, taking my fill of the way she reacts to my touch. The charged energy between us pulses, and I let it. I want her to remember this. I need these feelings to burrow into her veins and take root, because I refuse to be some temporary fling.

With every ounce of self-control I possess, I release her lip and drop my hand.

This is how I want her—hungry. It’s the only way to ensure that this tension, the concentrated heat between us, lingers.

I want her to think about what could have been before she goes to sleep tonight. I want to intrude on her thoughts tomorrow as she wonders how I might kiss her, what my mouth feels like against hers, the way I’d taste on her tongue. I want her to daydream about all the filthy things I plan to do to her lips, every spare second until she sees me again.

She exhales and blinks away the heavy desire in those fucking sex eyes of hers. Goddamn, I am a saint. Anna looks away and tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ears and adjusts the knit cap. I haven’t been able to take my gaze off her. Reluctantly, I take a deep breath, refocusing my thoughts and releasing the strain from my twitching hands.

Her scars have made it apparent she’s been through something traumatic, likely involving a man. I’ve let her know where I stand, now it’s her turn to make the next move. She will decide when she’s ready. I’m giving her that time. Because she’s worth it.

A gust of wind blows past us and she shivers. I scoot back on the platform.

“Come here,” I tease, as if it’s a chore, and pull her into my lap. My dick battles with my willpower as I sweep her hair to the side, and she leans against my chest, allowing me to breathe her in. I swear I can feel her heartbeat thudding through our coats . . . Or maybe it’s mine?

Letting that thought evaporate, I dip my chin and press my lips to her shoulder, wishing it was her bare collarbone instead of polyester. It’s not a kiss, but it’s not not a kiss. Sharing our body heat, we appreciate the view in silence.

“When do you want to head back?” I murmur.

“Can we stay just a little longer? I don’t want to go home yet.”

I smile. “Anything you want.”

As soon as I drop her off at home, I drive around the block to park my car, then jog over to her house and sneak into the basement, then up the two flights of stairs to my second favorite place. Before I even arrive at the mirror, I can tell she’s in the shower by the sound of water running through the pipes.

I’ve never resisted a woman who’s looked at me the way she did tonight; I’ve never had a reason to. It’s always been about sexual gratification, nothing deeper than that. However, Anna is special. It’s different when I’m around her. I haven’t been able to nail down what exactly it is that sets her apart, but I like the way I feel when we’re together, and I will do anything to make that feeling last. Even if it means the six piercings in my cock are left painfully straining against my zipper.

The heady sexual tension has left me disoriented and wanting more. I’m usually a controlled individual, but when I open up the hatch into her apartment, that version of me is nowhere to be found.

The bathroom door is cracked, allowing steam to pour out of the opening. I scrub a hand down my face, imagining her standing naked in that claw-foot tub while water from the showerhead sluices down her body. My thoughts are broken up by her soft breathy sigh.

I lift my hand to push the door wider and pause . . . This is crossing a line—I know it’s crossing a line, but I need to hear more from her. I need to know if that was a sigh of relaxation or of pleasure, because it sounded like the latter. Though I’m so turned on everything seems to be cloaked with sensual undertones.

She utters my name and I flinch, thinking I’ve been caught. Except she didn’t say it like an accusation . . . It rolled off her tongue with a needy whimper.