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“You were?” I prompt.
“Thinking of getting a tattoo,” he says tightly. “On my back. There’s a free space I’d like to fill.”
I hope I keep my face composed, hope I don’t let him see the effect his words have on me. The thought of him shirtless, lying on his front, his rippling back right there for me to touch, to feel his solid security.
“I’m sure you can find somebody better than me,” I say softly.
“You’re not giving yourself enough credit,” he replies.
“You haven’t seen my work yet.” I laugh gently. “What if I ruin you?”
That came out wrong. It makes it sound like I’m going to sabotage his career or something or his friendship and business partnership with Dad. But that’s not how I meant it.
I fumble, thinking of a way to save myself.
But he hasn’t noticed it. Or maybe there was no slip up.
The crush is making me overthink every little thing.
“I’m sure your work is excellent,” he says.
“Why? I could be awful.”
“Would you really cover your body in awful tattoos? No, I think you’ve practiced for countless hours. I think, the first time you brought the needle to your body, you were ready. You strike me as a person who wants to be good at what she does.”
His words rush through me. I’m floating atop them.
“You’re right,” I say, understating it.
It’s more like he’s read my mind.
“I practice a lot,” I tell him. “What were you thinking of having done?”
CHAPTERTHREE
Silas
Just as Lauren asks what tattoo I’m thinking of getting, Buster walks to the edge of the office and pushes through the dog door. It’s a flap, looking seamless, which he’s learned leads to his rest area.
It’s like he wants me and Lauren to be alone.
She’s standing so close, bare inches from me, looking up with her wide youthful eyes…eyes which make me think of them whelming with love as she walks up the aisle, brimming with joy as she holds out our first child.
I imagine her eyes widening even more as I slide inside her body, as I push deep and feel her tightly clinging to my base, as I please her as she deserves.
This. Is. Julian’s. Daughter.
“I’ve got an important anniversary coming up,” I tell her. “I was thinking of getting something to commemorate it.”
“An anniversary?” she says, her tone sharp.
Does she think I mean another woman? Does that make my spunky Lauren jealous?
I have to be careful. I could be reading far too much into it.
When I should be readingnothing.
I have to think of Julian after we made our first million, jumping around, a big grin on his face, his bike gloves still on. I have to remember all those times so I don’t tear them all down with one foolish act.
