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He holds me from behind, helping me to stand completely upright. His forearm is across my breast, my nipples tingling against my bra.
It all happens so fast, then he lets me go, stepping away.
“Sorry,” I murmur.
He shakes his head. “It’s fine.”
“Is Buster okay?”
Silas strokes his dog on the top of the head. “He’s fine too. Areyouokay?”
“Yeah, I don’t know what happened.”
“I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.”
A shudder grips me, small and passing swiftly, but it’s there. Like a little burst of the future expanding inside of me. Of happiness and laughter and kids and a life overflowing with fullness.
I’m not sure what to say next. It’s like we’re entering awkward silence territory.
But then he steps forward. Every movement is full of intent, like he could spring into action any second.
At forty-one, he’s fitter than most men my age. Most nineteen-year-olds…without adoubt.
“Your dad tells me you’re training to be a tattoo artist.”
It’s crazy how quickly my cheeks start to glow. Orfeellike they are. I’m sure – I hope, anyway – my cheeks aren’t actually blazing red.
It’s just him, my man, Silas…taking an interest. It shouldn’t be such a big deal.
But it is.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I’m doing my best.”
He smirks, making it seem like his mood is a sky, stormy, then clear, then stormy again. He looked pissed not too long ago.
Maybe I’m just terrible at reading him.
And always will be, since nothing can ever happen between us.
“Doing your best includes turning your body into your own personal canvas, does it?”
I laugh softly, feeling a little less nervous—a little.
“Maybe I’m getting a touch obsessed,” I say. “But I figure if I’m not willing to tattoo myself, why should I expect anybody else to let me tattoo them?”
His smirk widens, and he moves closer. It’s like he can’t keep away from me.
Yeah, right, like all six and a half feet of throbbing muscle Silas Stone can’t resistme.
This is reality. I remind myself for what feels like the hundredth time. Not crush make-believe land.
“Have you had any clients?” he asks.
“A few, for some small pieces,” I say, nodding.
“I was….”
He trails off, his expression getting tight like he’s pissed again. I can still feel his arms wrapped around me, his solid forearm pressing against my breasts.
