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Excitement flashes in his eyes, like he loves that I’m fighting back. Still, he’s fuming.
“What’s the color on the paintings, cupcake?”
“W-what?”
He flips me around, a hand on my waist and another that comes to grab my jaw. He forces my head up slightly, making me stare at the painting.
“The predominant color on every single canvas I’ve painted in the last five months. What is it?” he says low.
“I—”
“Look,” he hisses. “Look and answer the fucking question.”
“Pink,” I force through a wince. His grip is deadly. “It’s pink.”
“It’s fuchsia,” he growls in my ear. “In fact, it’s hot pink. You were never that good with colors, but I know my muse. I know you more than you know yourself, Alex.”
My heart explodes in my chest, my knees buckling. He holds me, turning me back to face him. “I’ve given you enough time. One more minute and I’ll implode, do you understand? Life is made of choices. So make it. Choose me. Chooseus.”
My eyes fill with tears, my breathing erratic.
I nod, for I’m incapable of uttering a single word. Instead, I slam my lips against his.
And for the first time, I feel Xi’s hands trembling as he holds me. Like he feared truly losing me tonight.
“I have to show you something,” he says in-between kisses as we tumble inside his house. We cross through the kitchen and a side door, and he takes me to the small backyard. There’s a shed there. He unlocks the door and drags me inside. There are countless pots of paint in here. Fuchsia, or hot pink I guess, is the main color everywhere.
“Obsessed much?” I laugh.
“You have no idea,” he growls as he rids me of my clothes. I’m naked in less than a minute. Fully dressed, he grabs a huge pot of paint and empties it on a white canvas lying on the floor.
“What are you do—” My words die in my mouth when he takes off his clothes. It’s pretty clear what he’s doing. He strides towards me, and I stop him with two hands on his chest. I take a moment to appreciate the god lusting after me.
“Xi,” I say cautiously. “What isthat?” I point at the tattoo at the crook of his neck. It’s on the curve that leads to his shoulder. “Is that–”
“From when you bit me? Yeah.”
“You got the marks of my teeth tattooed on you?”
“I needed the reminder. The reminder of when I fucked up. Of when you hated me. The pain. I will never forget that I hurt you.”
My stupid heart skips a beat because I can’t help but feel a sense of ownership knowing he tattooed me on him. Knowing that for the last few months, every time he looked in the mirror, he saw me.
My hands drag down to his abs and to the three scars. I graze them with the tip of my fingers.
“You never told me what happened.”
“Billie’s boyfriend stabbed me for burning his house down.”
“Excuse me?” I choke.
“It’s a long story. One that isn’t nearly as beautiful as ours, cupcake. I love you, do you know that?”
Everything we’ve been through together comes crashing into my mind at once. But the only thing that stays as my thoughts storm around in my head is an indescribable feeling of completion.
“I love you,” I rasp as I look up into his eyes.
He fists the hair at the back of my head and chokes me with a kiss. Before I know it, he pushes me to the floor...or so I think, until I feel cold wetness on my back.
