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A sinister smile twists his lips and he pulls me in closer. “As you wish, sweetheart,” he presses a kiss on my temple. Warmth cascades through my blood, and for a second there’s a rush because it feels like he’s going to kiss a trail down the side of my face.
The moment is fleeting. He scoops my towel up and wraps me in it.
“Get dressed and meet me outside,” he says.
* * *
I findAlexander standing on the balcony, smoke leaching from his lips into the frosty morning air. He’s changed his clothes, opting for a black dress shirt, tailored slacks, black leather boots and a duffel coat.
Everything fits him so well, and I drink in the sight of him in the few seconds it takes him to realize I’ve entered the space. I’ve been trying to fight how I feel about him on principle these past few weeks, but he’s so fucking good-looking. My knit dress and platform boots seem a bit dull in comparison to what he’s wearing.
He extinguishes the cigarette when he sees me, stomping it out under his boot.
“I like the color,” he says, pointing to my hair. I’ve pulled it back from my face with a headband. “Not a fan of the piercing or the tattoo, though.”
I scoff. “Ironic. You’re full of them.” I pull at the collar of his shirt, revealing the thick shadowy tattoos around his neck. He swats my hand away. But I don’t need to see them. I know them by heart.
“What even is it?” He grabs my wrist, inspecting the fresh ink. “Some kind of rose?”
I nod. “Awiltingbleeding rose.”
He clicks his tongue. “Depressing.”
“You’re one to talk.” I roll my eyes, folding my arms. “You have skulls and guns and other horrifying shit inked all over your body.”
Alexander chuckles. “I had to get those. Each of them has a specific meaning in our syndicate,” he says. He jabs a finger at my wrist. “What doesthatmean?”
I look down at the rose. “I think it can mean anything. Tara and Nya got it too. For me, it’s a reminder of the duality of life. The rose wilts, yes, but it’s still so fucking beautiful while it’s dying. And I think that’s important.”
We start walking toward the exit. “To die beautifully?”
“No. To be able to acknowledge that something as ugly as death can be beautiful too.”
He’s silent for long enough that I wonder if I sound a little crazy. Though I didn’t think of the tattoo design on my own, its meaning does seem special to me. I’m sure Nya and Tara would give him different explanations. That’s the beauty of art. The same piece will mean different things to different people.
Alexander doesn’t speak until he’s closed the door behind us.
“I think I can understand that,” he says with a shrug. “Can’t say I would want that remindertattooedon me.” He looks over at me with a stern expression. “No more tattoos or piercings,” he points to my nose, “without me.”
A surprised laugh falls from me. “Or else, what?”
He smirks. “I’ll put you over my knee and spank you, then fuck that pretty little ass of yours to remind you who owns it.”
Is that a threat or a promise?
Things are starting to feel familiar again—the easy banter between us, the sexual tension. Even now, we’re walking too close to each other. I’d only need to move my hand a hair to hook our pinkies together. I move away slightly.
He notices.
“You’re still mad at me, yeah?” he asks. “Still telling yourself you hate me?”
I don’t like his tone, as if my reasons are unfounded. He needs to be gracious that I’m even letting him this close to me. “Yes, I fucking am,” I snap. “Just because Liam’s proved that there are worse people out there than you doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you.”
My words don’t hurt him the way I hoped. He actually smiles.
That’s when I consider what I must seem like to him. An hour earlier, I wanted him to fuck me. Now, I’m swearing that I hate him. Even I feel a little confused, because the reasons I gave myself to explain away my arousal made sense. They still do.
I hate himandI want him..
