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“I suppose I did, huh? Maybe I should make up for that.”
He hummed in agreement as he pulled something up his thighs, but I tried not to look too closely so as to not get sucked back into bed with him. God, it was so easy to just say ‘fuck it’ and fall back in, eating him for dinner instead.
It was close to eight in the evening, and as it turned out, I wasn’t the only one grumbling for food. Ashton approached and put his arms around me just in time for his belly to let out a loud protest.
“Well hot damn, guess I’m hungry, too,” he murmured into my ear while I tried to bend down to see what was in the fridge.
“I’ve got hot dogs or salad,” I admitted, sorry I hadn’t gone shopping the day before like I’d planned.
“Why not both?” was his response.
What a totally male thing to say.
Grabbing the hot dogs, I tossed them on the counter while still wearing Ashton like a freaking backpack, then grabbed the salad kit that was a little worse for wear. Good thing we were going to eat it up because one or two more days would turn it into salad soup.
“What do you need from me?” he asked, still clinging.
“Go get the buns in the cabinet over there,” I told him, pointing. “Then get the stuff you want on your dog.”
He reluctantly pulled his hands away and I smiled at him, watching him go about my errands until…
“What’s that?” I squeaked.
Was that what I thought it was?
The warpaint and winged headband gave it away, but holy fuck, she almost looked like me.
I touched the curve of his side, a place I hadn’t yet had time to explore, and found a new tattoo, prominent and right fucking there.
Freya, the Norse goddess.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, sounding embarrassed. “That’s new. Just finished it, actually.”
My breath caught, because I knew what this meant. He’d inked his skin with me, like scrawling my fucking name across his heart, he’d put a piece of me on his body to hold forever, long before he ever thought he could have me.
“This is probably the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” I admitted, tracing the lines of the beautiful woman, seeing little ways that it wasn’t me, but it didn’t mean any less.
“I uh…I wanted to have a piece of you with me. The artist just thought it was a fucking rad tattoo.”
Leaning over, I pressed my lips against the spot, my eyes watering.
Finally, Ashton turned around and put his hands to my cheeks, smiling down at me.
“Doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing, though. You’re so much prettier than her.”
“Bullshit,” I argued, laughing a little which helped me shove the tears back down.
A gorgeous smile swept across his lips before he pecked a kiss down on mine.
“Now hurry up, I’m starved.”
With a smack to my ass, I went about finishing our meager meal.
“I’ll need to go shopping soon. Anything you want me to cook you?”
He shrugged.
“I’m not picky.”
