Page 61 of The Taskmaster
She huffed, suppressing the hint of a smile as she shook her head.
I leaned back slightly to narrow my eyes at her.
“This is stupid,” she groaned.
“And yet, you’re still interested.” I winked. “Don’t lie.”
She didn’t respond, and I couldn’t help myself. I reached back and grabbed the back of my T-shirt, pulling it over my head, and then throwing it to the ground. “Do you want help getting started?”
The way she stared at my tattooed-covered chest made me bristle with pride. She liked what she saw, I could tell by the way her pupils dilated and her lips parted oh-so-slightly.
I touched her chin with my thumb and forefinger, lifting her head gently so she’d look at me. “Sometimes, two broken souls find each other, not because they want to live in each other’s pain or repeat the past, but because they know they see something no one else does. Something that’ll help themmake sense of it all. Something no one else would understand. I understand you, Abigail. I think, if you give yourself the chance, you might understand me too.”
She lifted her hand, and with the softest, feather-like touch, she brushed her fingertips against my chest. We both watched her hand as it stroked slow, gentle strokes across my skin, making goosebumps appear like she was a magician working her magic on my senses. I tried to control my breathing as the sensation of being touched by her made my mind spiral. She affected me just as much as I affected her.
She placed the palm of her hand flat against my pec, and then her thumb brushed delicately across the reaper tattoo with his scythe, placed perfectly so he could cut my heart out at any moment. At least, that’d been my reasoning behind getting that one. Every inch of my body told a story. Every tattoo held meaning. I’d taken back ownership of my body. It was all mine. Never theirs.
She moved her palm lower, then brushed over my nipple piercing. Yes, I’d reclaimed my body with piercings too.
“Are you the reaper?” she asked, sounding a little breathless. “Is that the answer?”
“Good try, but no. Keep going,” I urged, desperate to feel her touch, internally begging her to go lower. And she did.
Her fingers traced a delicate trail down my chest and onto my stomach, and I tensed my muscles as her touch created a sensitivity unlike anything I’d ever felt before. My hair was standing on end, my breath laboured as I watched her brush her fingertips over the skulls etched into my skin, over my stomach. Death lived in the pit of my stomach most days, that’s why I’d had that tattoo. But lately, that feeling had morphed into something else, since I’d met her. Maybe I’d need to change it to butterflies. Or moths. Moths would suit me better.
“Are you death?” she whispered.
“Isn’t that the same as the reaper?” I replied, and then shook my head. “No. I’m not death. Keep looking.”
“But you have that on your neck too?” She lifted her head to look into my eyes, and my heart stuttered in my chest. She was so fucking beautiful.
“That’s because I’ve seen a lot of death. But that’s not the answer.”
She swallowed and didn’t ask me to elaborate. I’m glad she didn’t. That was a story for another time.
She moved closer, peering at my tattoos, and then she started to move around me, studying, reading, admiring the work of art that I’d created of myself... for myself. And now, it was for her, too.
She brushed her hand over my arm as she moved to the side, then when she reached my back, I felt the tickle of her breath on my skin. A tickle that made me shiver and throw my head back as I closed my eyes. Dear God, give me the strength to hold the beast inside me back by the chain around his neck. I wasn’t ready to unleash him yet.
“You have these wings on your back. Angel wings. Is that it?”
That angel was a symbol of my mum; the only woman who’d shown me any love in my life. Not that there’d been a lot of love. But I liked to think she was following me, always behind me, and watching over me like an angel. Proud that I’d avenged the wrongs that were done to me.
“A dark angel?” I said, keeping my eyes closed but dropping my head forward. “No. That’s not me.”
Her hands graced the wings on my back delicately, and I realised that I was starting to crave her touches. After a lifetime of cruelty, her touch felt like heaven. A heaven I wanted more of.
“I’m starting to think this is a game I’ll never win,” she whispered, and I couldn’t deny, most of my games were rigged that way. But not this one.
“Keep looking,” I said, my voice gruff and low, a reflection of how dark my thoughts were becoming.
She moved around to my other side, her fingertips sparking a fire against my skin as she teased me, and then, as she came to stand in front of me, I couldn’t help but grab her by the back of her neck and pull her towards me. My restraint had shattered, and the chains holding me had broken and fallen to the floor.
I slammed my lips against hers, feeling feral and desperate to take what I wanted.
She didn’t resist.
She let me kiss her, bruising her as I crashed my mouth against hers and plunged my tongue into her warm delicious mouth. I couldn’t get enough of tasting her, getting lost in the pleasure of switching off every emotion except what it felt like to touch, hold, and kiss her, to drown in her sweetness forever. I’d die a happy man if this was my last moment on earth. Part of me hoped it would be. It could never get any better than this.
