Page 9 of Ink Me Three Times
I want to say something,anything. Deflect. Break the tension.
But the truth is, I don’t want to break it.
I want to burn in it.
His hand lingers on my back, thumb brushing over a piece of untouched skin in a way that feels far too personal for someone I don’t even know the name of.
I’m not sure who moves first, maybe we both lean in, but suddenly he’s close again. Closer than before. His mouth hovers near my ear, and I can feel the warm rush of his breath as he speaks.
"You okay?"
It’s not a casual question. Not the way he asks it. It’s low and quiet and laced with something else entirely.
Concern. Possession. Hunger, maybe.
I nod and swallow hard. "Yeah. Just…"
Just what? Just overwhelmed? Just wrecked by the way you’re touching me?
"Good," he says, and his voice is rougher now. Almost strained. He clears his throat. "I’ll wrap it."
But neither of us move.
The words hang in the air like a curtain neither of us wants to pull back. His eyes are on mine now, really on mine, and everything in them is heat. Slow, simmering, soul deep heat.
I should look away. I want to look away.
But I don’t.
Because something in the way he’s watching me makes it impossible. Like I’m a match, and he’s the one about to strike.
I shift slightly in the chair, trying to find air, trying to think, but then his hand brushes my shoulder again. Light. Careful.
And that’s all it takes.
I turn.
He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t warn me.
There’s no testing the waters this time…
His mouth crashes into mine like a question and an answer all at once, hot, demanding,desperate. His hand fists in the side of my shirt, dragging me closer as his mouth parts mine, and I melt.
There’s no space, no oxygen, no logic. Just the burn of his kiss and the way he groans low in his throat when I kiss him back just as hard.
He tastes like coffee and heat and something darker I can’t name. Like trouble. Like home.
I gasp when his hand slides up my spine, not quite touching the fresh tattoo but cradling me close, guiding me gently but firmly out of the chair and towards him.
And damn, he’s solid.
Muscle and restraint, a man made of tension just waiting to snap. His other hand finds my jaw, thumb sweeping the corner of my mouth as he deepens the kiss, like he’s been thinking about this too. Like he needs it as much as I do.
My fingers curl in the front of his shirt. I can’t get close enough. I want to climb into his skin. To lose myself. To forget everything except the feel of his mouth and the heat between us and the way he’s kissing me, like he’s been starving for it.
No one’s kissed me like this in a long time.
Maybe ever.
