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“You haven’t even considered it? Where’s your sense of adventure?”
Personally, I didn’t think getting stuck with a needle a hundred times really counted as an adventure, even if my skin would accept the ink.
I reached out and traced over the back of her neck where the top of the blossom of her rose tattoo stuck out above her top. Piper was still a rose—beautiful and tempting and surrounded by a wall of thorns. Just as she had been when I first told her the line out of the Brontë poem the night we met.
“Why a rose?” I asked, my fingers caressing down her spine over her shirt.
She ducked her head and fiddled with a strand of her hair. She didn’t want to tell me, and now I wanted to know more than I had a few seconds ago.
“Why a rose?” I repeated.
“What would you have me get?”
“You’d let me pick something to be inked into your skin forever?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. If I liked your idea.”
I let my fingers trail down her back and curled them around her hip. “A network of thorn-covered vines,” I said with a smirk. I knew she wouldn’t get the tattoo.
“Where?” she whispered. And fuck me, her eyes were darkening with something way too close to desire.
I needed to take my hand off her body, but instead, I reached out with the hand not touching her. “Right here.” I ran my fingers up her arm from her wrist to her shoulder. Maybe if she got a sleeve of thorns, I’d remember that she was untouchable.
“I’ll think about it,” she said, pulling away from my touch and taking off down the street.
“Where are you going?” I demanded.
“For a walk. You’re welcome to join me.” She knew I’d follow her. And I had no one to blame but myself. Our little showdown in the bathroom at her house had proven that I cared too much about her well-being. I wouldn’t leave her to wander the city alone tonight. Not with some psychopath out there thinking Piper washis.
“Do you always approach life with this level of caution?” I muttered, easily falling into step beside her.
“I’m not a delicate flower, you know. I’ve lived here my whole life. I know how to take care of myself. Besides, I have you.”
I scowled at her, but I didn’t deny it.
The sun was low in the sky when we reached Carson Beach, turning the clouds a brilliant orange. The reflection in the water added to the cove’s beauty, but not as much as the silhouette of Piper did.
As soon as her feet touched the sand, she pulled off her sandals and shot a quick grin over her shoulder at me before taking off down the beach. The water was going to be cold. It might have been August, but it was still the New England ocean.
Piper shrieked as the water hit her toes, and blood shot to my dick. She was supposed to be a trust fund baby, a Boston princess, and here she was squealing and laughing in the ocean as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
“Are you coming?” she called out to me, a wide smile gracing her lips. She tossed her shoes up the beach, as if they didn’t cost an exorbitant amount of money, and a second later her shirt followed.
My head emptied of thought as I took in Piper’s smooth, tanned skin, black lace covering her tits. For the first time ever, I was staring at her chest to check out her body and not because I was checking out her soul. Not that her soul wasn’t a sight, glowing among all that gorgeous flesh.
She reached up in what felt like slow motion and pulled the clip that held her hair up in a bun at the back of her head. Locks tumbled down over her shoulders, making her look even more carefree and unburdened.
The clip and her phone landed somewhere near her top and shoes. Then she turned and ran straight into the ocean, still dressed in her khaki shorts and lace bra.
She was crazy, and far more wild than anyone gave her credit for.
I stood on the beach for a second, watching her head break the surface of the water. Her wet hair appeared nearly black, plastered to her shoulders and fanning out in the water around her tits. She looked like a mermaid as she bobbed in the water.
“You’re really not coming?” she shouted. “I didn’t peg you for the boring type.” Her tongue darted out and ran over her lips before disappearing again.
And for the first time in my life, I cursed my eyesight. If I were human instead of an angel, I would have missed that move. And I wouldn’t be stripping out of my shirt and shoes right now.
I was wrong. Piper wasn’t a princess at all. She wasn’t even a sorceress. She was a siren. Except she didn’t need songs to lure me to my demise. She just needed her shining soul and musical laugh.
