Page 104 of Golden Ruin

There’s no need to ask which tattoo. There can only be one she’d ask about. I think back to the night she walked into my room and saw it, how seeing it affected her. How seeing me affected her. I knew she’d been wondering about it since then, but I’m not sure I realized she had it in her to ask.

Until tonight, that is.

Must be the weed.

I let out a breath, trying to decide how I’ll answer.

“I thought about having it removed or covered. A couple times, actually. But when it came time to do something about it, I could never seem to follow through.”

Lexi’s quiet beside me.

“I guess I kept it because… erasing it felt dishonest.”

“Dishonest. Interesting word choice,” she says with a quiet laugh.

I nod, defining what that means as I say it out loud. “Erasing it would have been like saying that chapter of my life didn’t happen. Like saying you didn’t happen. But you’re part of me. Hell, you gave me my son, which is just one more reason I’m glad I kept it.”

Her chest rises and falls when she breathes deep, still focusing on my hand as she flips it over. Now, she’s focused on the date that marks my wrist.

“What’s this?” she asks, but immediately corrects herself. “Sorry, that might be personal. I just–”

“Lex, nothing’s off limits with you.”

My words make her go still, and she blinks at me like I’ve just told her something wild. But it’s only the truth.

I glance down at the tattoo in question, smiling a little. “It’s the date Jax first called me dad. Well, it was technically da-da, but… you get the point.”

I expect her to laugh or smile or something, but she’s still frozen, staring at the numbers in silence. My hand’s suddenly warmer as hers heats up, and I can’t read that look on her face. But when our eyes lock, I sense when something shifts between us.

Then, I feel the shift when she leans in, and my body follows her lead, closing the distance between us until our lips meet.

I’m almost scared to move because I want this too much. I clench my hands into fists to keep from touching her, but then she holds the side of my face, clinging to me as she moves closer. She draws her knees onto the couch, turning her entire body toward mine, and I can’t keep holding back.

I touch her side first, her ribs through her shirt, then grip her waist. My heart picks up speed as heat from her fingers warms the back of my neck. She pulls, wanting me to follow her down onto the couch, and my body willingly goes, settling on top of hers.

We’ve been here before, but this feels different. The weight of the moment is heavier now because so much is at stake if we mess this up.

Her heart, mine, our son’s.

I breathe her in, taking her tongue when she pushes it into my mouth. My palms are pressed into the cushion, but I need to touch her.

A soft whimper rises to her throat when I palm her breast, realizing she isn’t wearing a bra as my thumb brushes her nipple through her shirt. The heat between her legs warms my cock. I grind into her like we’re naked, needing to feel more as my fingers travel to the buttons at the center of her chest.

I’ve wanted her thousands of times, but never like this. Never so much that it felt like I’d drown in my own need. So much that my hands shook like they are now.

Shit. I have to calm down. Have to slow down.

I slide my hand between us, between her thighs, rubbing her pussy through the thin shorts that’ve driven me crazy all night. She’s soft and warm against my palm, and my chest rumbles when I feel how wet she is even through the fabric.

“Fuck, Lex.”

Her hands are on my back, pulling my shirt up until she’s gathered enough of it in her fists that she pulls it halfway off. I lean away just long enough to remove it completely and toss it behind the couch. Then, I’m back on her.

She sighs against my mouth as her fingers move over my skin. This is what she wanted, to touch more of me, to touch me without restraint. And the feel of her soft skin against mine reminds me of those places inside me only she can reach.

My fingers twist a few of her buttons loose, and I push her shirt open there, trailing kisses down her neck, her collarbone, her chest. Her heart beats against my lips, and I love how it races. Love how she can’t control it.

My tongue smooths over her nipple. She whimpers and squeezes the back of my neck when I draw it into my mouth. After so many years of keeping my distance, of not being able to touch her, each time it happens now it feels like we’re breaking the rules. But as her palm grazes the side of my face, it hits me that this has less to do with wanting to fuck her than it does with wanting to feel more connected.