Page 49 of Rebel

His smile was all the future I needed.

He claimed my lips with an unexpected gentleness, mindful of my split lip.The kiss was a seal on the promise we’d just made.When he pulled back, his eyes had darkened, intense and focused solely on me.

“I want you,” he said, voice rough with desire.“But you’re hurt.”

I traced my fingers along his jaw, feeling the scratch of his beard against my skin.“I’m not made of glass.”

“No.”His thumb brushed over the bruise darkening my temple.“You’re made of something much stronger.”

I leaned into his touch, my body responding to his proximity despite the aches pulsing through it.“We don’t have to rush,” I said, surprising myself with the admission.“I’m not going anywhere now.”

That predatory smile returned, sending heat pooling low in my belly.“Taking it slow, huh?”

“Just for tonight,” I clarified, not wanting him to think I was having second thoughts.

He nodded, accepting the boundary without question.Another surprise from a man who seemed built for taking what he wanted.“Come here,” he said, shifting to lie back against the pillows and drawing me with him.

I settled against his side, my head resting on his shoulder, his arm curled protectively around me.The position should have felt confining.Instead, it felt secure.I traced the outline of a tattoo on his chest -- an intricate design I hadn’t noticed before.

“What’s this one mean?”I asked, following the lines of what looked like a compass rose surrounded by storm clouds.

“Got that after my first year as a Prospect,” he explained, his voice a low rumble beneath my ear.“Rode through a hurricane in south Florida.Thought I was gonna die.Decided if I made it, I’d mark the occasion.”

“You rode through a hurricane?On purpose?”

His chest shook with silent laughter.“Not on purpose.Got caught in it.Too stubborn to find shelter until it was almost too late.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”I murmured, continuing my exploration of his inked skin.Each mark told a story -- of survival, of loyalty, of choices made and consequences accepted.

“You got any more ink?”he asked, his hand making lazy circles on my shoulder.

“Small one.On my hip.”

His eyebrows raised in interest.“Yeah?What is it?”

“A phoenix.Got it after my discharge.”I didn’t elaborate further, but I didn’t need to.Rebel understood rebirth from ashes better than most.

His fingers slipped beneath the hem of my borrowed T-shirt, seeking but not demanding.“Can I see it?”

I hesitated only briefly before shifting to push the shirt up just enough to reveal my right hip.There, in vivid reds and oranges, a small phoenix spread its wings.

Rebel traced the outline with his fingertip, touch feather-light against my skin.The calluses on his hands created a delicious friction that sent goose bumps racing across my flesh.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.“Suits you.”

I lowered the shirt, suddenly self-conscious in a way I rarely allowed myself to be.“Got it after everything fell apart.When I was lost and wandering.Needed to remember I could rise again.”

His eyes met mine, intense and knowing.“And you did.”

“Yeah.”I settled back against him, the day’s exhaustion finally catching up to me.“I did.”

Silence stretched between us, comfortable in a way I hadn’t experienced with another person in years.The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear was hypnotic, lulling me toward sleep despite my desire to stay in this moment.

“You know,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet in the dimly lit room, “first time I saw you, I thought you’d be trouble.The fun kind though.”

I huffed a laugh against his chest.“You weren’t wrong.”

His fingers combed gently through my damp hair.“Thought you’d be entertaining for a bit.Didn’t expect…” He trailed off.

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