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But when I leaned down to kiss Hawke, he only gave me a quick kiss before he stopped everything he was doing and said, “Our last night together…in the shower,” before stuttering to a stop. I watched in disbelief as color flooded his cheeks and I was innately glad he’d left the overhead lights on because I was sure I would have missed the show of embarrassment otherwise.
“Yeah,” I urged as I cupped his face with my hands and forced him to keep looking at me. “Did you like it?” I asked, knowing exactly what part he was talking about. I’d taken a risk when I’d played with Hawke like that, but clearly it had paid off.
Hawke smiled and let out a little laugh. “You know I did, you little tease.” Hawke began caressing my ass again. “I want more,” he finally said. “I want all of you,” he clarified.
I stilled because I hadn’t expected that. I thought he’d want a repeat of what I’d done to him in the shower. The idea of being inside Hawke was both exciting and overwhelming.
“I…um, you should know I’ve never been with a guy like that before…Reggie wouldn’t let me and the guy at the club was only interested-”
Hawke cut me off by putting his whole hand over my mouth and I didn’t miss the anger that flashed across his face. “Sorry,” I murmured against his hand as I realized bringing up my previous partners hadn’t been the best way to go. I repeated the apology when Hawke removed his hand.
“I trust you, Tate. I really want this.”
I swallowed around the knot in my throat and nodded. “Okay.”
Hawke’s smile did funny things to my heart and I kissed him hard. It took just minutes to get back to where we’d been, but it all went to hell when I reached down to pull his shirt off.
Because right after I realized that at some point Hawke had removed his wedding band and was now wearing it on a chain around his neck, I saw the new tattoo on his chest, right above Revay’s.
The tattoo that was a perfect replica of the picture I’d taken so long ago of the two birds I’d hoped to one day follow to freedom.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hawke
“Oh my God,” Tate whispered just before he covered his mouth with his hand. His shocked eyes lifted to mine and he slowly lowered his hand. “How?” he asked, his voice cracking as tears flooded his yes.
I’d stopped caressing Tate as soon as he’d seen the tattoo, but instead of answering him, I removed one of my hands from where I’d been holding him and reached into my nightstand drawer. I handed him the picture I’d taken from the trailer and he stared at it for a long time, letting his finger run over the pieces of tape I’d used to put the picture back together. The tattoo artist had gotten the image exactly right.
Tate lowered the picture and reached out to trail his finger over the ink on my skin.
“Why?” he asked.
I raised my fingers to wipe away his tears. “Because I needed something of you that I could keep with me. You may not have believed you were ever strong enough, Tate, but from the moment I met you, that’s all I saw. You’ve taken on every storm in your path and come out the other side.”
Tate shook his head in disbelief, but I was glad when he didn’t argue with me. Of course, he seemed incapable of any kind of speech, so I wasn’t sure if that wasn’t part of the issue. His arms went around me and I held him for a long time – as long as he needed.
When he leaned back to once again look at the ink, his finger brushed over my wedding ring. It hadn’t been as much of a struggle to take off as I’d thought it would be, but when I’d been faced with the prospect of hiding it away somewhere, I hadn’t been able to do it.
“Does it bother you?” I asked.
Tate pressed his fingers over the ring and shook his head. “No,” he choked out. “No, it doesn’t bother me.” He lowered himself back down and continued to play with the ring and the tattoo.
“Will you make love to me, Tate?” I said against his ear before brushing it with a kiss.
Tate nodded against me and then pulled himself back and wiped at his face. He climbed off the bed and held out his hand to me. He ran his hands up and down my sides, setting my skin on fire with his touch. “Does the door lock?” Tate asked.
“What?”
“The door? Does it lock?”
With Tate’s caresses wreaking havoc with my mind and body, it took a moment to understand what he was asking and why. When I finally got it, I nodded and stepped away from him long enough to lock the door. But I hesitated before flipping the lock. “What if Matty needs us?”
