Page 184 of Dance of Defiance
“Debonair? Can we throw debonair in there?”
“Sure. You have adebonaircock, and I’d prefer you didn't cover it up.”
“Done. Pant-less it is.”
Roman grins. He reaches up, and I groan when he drags his fingers along my bare chest. His eyes drop to one of my tattoos as he traces over it.
“Think you’ll get more?”
I snort. “Always. You?”
He nods. “Yeah. I like the pain and the process. It’s…”
“Cathartic?”
He smiles as his eyes meet mine. “Exactly. Same for you?”
I nod. His gaze drops back to my skin as he traces his fingers over my shoulder and down my bicep until he gets to that frenzied patch of chaotic ink.
His finger stops, and a cold shiver creeps through my veins.
“This one looks like it’s got a story,” he chuckles.
“Nah.” I shrug and pull my arm away. “Just a bad tat.”
He smirks. “For real. I’d kill anyone who put that on me.”
My throat tightens. The chill in my blood turns to ice, flaying my veins open from the inside as I fight to stay in control.
To keep my head above water, and not drown.
“Ever thought about covering it up, or?—”
“Maybe,” I mange to say through the tightness in my throat, willing him to change the subject.
To reach out and grab me, to stop me from falling into the abyss.
Mercifully he does, his attention shifting to the flowers on my other arm.
“And these?”
“Lilacs,” I answer.
His gaze raises to mine. “Because of…?”
“Jeff Buckley.”
Roman scowls deeply. “Oh,” he mutters.
I snort. “The fuck do you have against Jeff Buckley?”
“Nothing,” he grunts. “Just never gotten a tattoo about an ex.”
I laugh loudly. “Iwish,” I chuckle. “Jeff Buckley, as in, the singer-guitarist? Famous for his cover of ‘Hallelujah’?”
When he gives me another blank look, I groan. “Holy shit, we need to fix this serious gap in your musical education. How the hell do you own every single Billy Joel record in existence but you’ve never even heard of Buckley?”
He rolls his eyes. “Okay,fuck.” He nods his chin at my tattoo again. “What’s with the lilacs?”
