Page 67 of For a Goode Time Call…
And I’d had to make him pull out.
I should have stopped for condoms so I could wake him in a sexy way.
But I was scared of that, too. Terrified. It would be too good.
I’d never want anything else.
I already didn’t.
I couldn’t fathom touching another man, or letting another man touch me. Not after Ink.
I put his phone back where I’d found it, summoned my courage, and climbed up the ladder. Ink was still asleep. He looked…innocent. Huge, powerful, sexy.
Troubled.
A small frown furrowed his brow, even in sleep.
I’d put that there.
I sat a couple of feet away, just looking at him. Wired, not tired at all, wondering what the hell I was doing here, and what I would do if he woke up, what I would say.
I just looked at him.
At his tattoos—a deer walking through mist, head turned, eyes bright. An owl swooping among trees, round yellow eyes. An elk with the sun framed between its huge antlers. A bear. Wolf tracks, abstract and blending in with runes and lines and dots. Lost in the jumble, a little bumblebee, fat and cute. Ants in a line, disappearing into an anthill.
I wanted to kiss them all, taste them all. Trace and touch and mark them all as mine.
The power behind that word—mine...it shocked me. Mine.
He wasn’t.
And I wasn’t his.
I’d never belonged to anyone. I’d never felt like I belonged anywhere, except on stage, lost in the dance. The troupe, Europe, my apartment in Paris with Rick, back home on the East Coast. Here in Alaska…
I’ve never belonged.
But I wanted to.
I wanted to belong to someone.
I wanted tobesomeone’s.
Not just someone’s.
HIS.
My eyes watered.
Stung.
This couldn’t be.Couldn’tbe.
How did this happen?
How the hell was I falling for this guy? And why?
He stirred, and I froze. I felt his breathing change. Felt the air solidify.
