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Eventually my gaze lands on a particular design, and I’m immediately drawn to it. It’s small, possibly even trashy, but I love it. A rush of adrenaline runs through me as Daphne eyes me and the small tattoo.
“You know… you could get a tat with me. I’m sure we could convince them to squeeze you in if it's a small one.”
“A tattoo? Me?” I laugh. She nods her head with an encouraging smile.
“You only live once, right? And besides, that’s why they have lasering… if you have regrets, you just get it removed.”
“I heard that hurts more than getting the tattoo.”
She pales at that. “Well, just make sure you’re certain about the one you get.”
It’s madness to randomly get a tattoo, isn’t it?
But then again, I can do whatever I want.
It’s my choice.
CHAPTER 51
Honey
I’ve just finished cooking in Dawson’s kitchen when I hear him pull into the garage. He gave me a spare key after staying here with him the first night, and I wanted to surprise him a little. Then again, his security cameras feed his phone, which probably took the surprise away.
Dawson walks in with a bottle of red to complement the pizzas I’ve just made. I have to rectify the situation where he thinks the pizza joint he took me to has the best pizza because it is, in fact, my nonna’s recipe that is the best.
His gaze sweeps me up and down as I remove my apron, and he walks over to me. He lifts me into his arms, his tongue hot and demanding as it invades my mouth. I feel the stiffness in his muscles under my fingertips, the only small tell he has when something has happened.
“I could get used to this,” he says as he wipessomething from my cheek, and I realize it’s a bit of flour. “You look good in my kitchen.”
“You look good in my bed,” I reply, and his gaze darkens. Dawson steps away, and I’m left slightly jarred. I lean against the counter and cross my arms over my chest as I watch him unscrew the cork from the wine bottle like a man on a mission.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He pauses momentarily before continuing, and the pop echoes through the room. “Just work stuff.”
“You need to be more specific with me because when my father says ‘work stuff’ it may very well entail that he was a part of a drive-by.”
“I doubt your father does that himself these days,” he says, clearly distracted.
“Dawson,” I say impatiently. He sighs and licks his lips. Something has really got him bothered. “You can tell me anything?”
“It’s being dealt with. I want to selfishly enjoy tonight with you. Please.”
It’s the please that undoes me. I want to push further, but his mind is on a wild rampage. And if I can distract him from that, give him a moment of peace, then I’ll happily fulfill that role.
He pours us a glass of wine and takes a whiff of the pizza. “It smells delicious.”
I can’t help but smile, always pleased when someone appreciates my food. But especially Dawson.
“I did something today,” I say with a mischievoussmile. His own smile is slow and playful, even though he doesn’t know what I’ve done. “But it’s a secret.”
“I love keeping your dirty little secrets,” he jokes.
“I got a tattoo.”
His eyebrows flick up. “Fuck me, Honey! If your father didn’t think I was a bad enough influence before, he will now.”
“That’s why it’sour little secret.” I press my finger to his lips, and he nips the tip of it.
