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His honey-brown eyes lift to find mine, breaking from his task to focus his attention solely on me.
“It’s been a pretty long process; I got my first one when I was sixteen.”
“Where?”
Jett leisurely lifts the sleeve of shirt, pointing to an airplane tilted on its side, surrounded by intricate clouds.
“Did it hurt?” I pry, wanting nothing more than to touch it, but I don’t want the heat of our bodies to distract me.
“Kind of, but you get used to it.”
His soft lips tilt upward.
“What about the next one?”
For the next several minutes, Jett sits on the floor beneath me, going over the order in which he received his tattoos. Explaining that some have significance and some are just filler to add to the masterpiece that takes up his body.
“Have you gotten any recently?”
I already know the answer, but I’m itching for confirmation. Craving to understand why.
“Yeah, one.”
He doesn’t rush to show me like he did the others, just studies my face, and my probably wildly disheveled appearance.
“Nice shirt.” He smirks, the heat of his gaze causing a flutter in other places.
“Sorry, I just wanted something bigger.”
“I said everything in this house is yours, and I meant that. I like seeing you in my stuff.”
I crinkle my nose and push out a smile, but his hypnotic stare on me doesn’t waver.
“The last piece I got was right before the tour started.”
“Oh, cool, you don’t have to show me if you don’t wan—” Before I can backpedal, Jett flops the inside of his right arm on my lap, and there it is.
In a sea of black and white, bright green has a home of its own. The same set of eyes crumbled from the drawer upstairs are right here and full of life.
Breathing feels impossible as I reach my hand out to touch it.
Vibrant green, covered with light ivory skin, and chestnut-colored eyebrows. What tells it all, though, is the small freckle under my right eye.
The same hardly noticeable one that lives right below my eye. A little bigger than the others, but still so small you’d have to really study my face to notice.
“Jett,” I whisper, emotion clogging in my throat.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
He looks down at the art, then back at me, with not a single trace of uncertainty.
“Why?”
“Sometimes you look into someone’s eyes, and you see more than just a beautiful color. You see future, promise, you see change. I saw everything in these eyes the moment I looked into them—I wasn’t sure I’d be able to look into them every day, but I knew if I couldn’t, I always wanted them with me.”
CHAPTER 43
JETT
