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It also helps that she figured him out before he did himself. He never thought he’d like or get so fucking turned on by being held back like that. ‘Watching you look at me playing with myself... Yeah we can do that again. But next time I’m finishing in your mouth.’
‘You are such a sweet talker, you know that. I’d never guess you were a songwriter.’
‘That’s award-winning songwriter thank you very much.’
Chloe smirks at him. ‘Sincerest apologies.’
‘I should hope so.’ He leans over her and kisses her. ‘And if you’re naked in front of me there will be absolutely no sweet talking. Just a hell of a lot of me fucking you.’
‘Like I said, such a sweet talker.’
She snuggles into his side and traces the tattoo on the back of his hand. His eyes drift close as the exhaustion, great sex, good food, and Chloe’s touch work their magic on him.
‘Tate?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I’m proud of you.’
He pulls her closer and tucks her head under his chin. ‘For what?’
‘Tonight. And I don’t mean the awards. I mean obviously I’m proud of you about those. I really am. But I mean for facing everyone. I know it wasn’t easy for you.’
His stomach does a bizarre flip at her words.
She peers up at him and runs her finger down his jaw. ‘I know you didn’t want to go, and I know you were far from comfortable, but you did it and I’m proud of you.’
‘I really thought I’d done a better job hiding it from you.’
‘You tried. I’m getting to know you though. I can tell the difference between your real smile and fake smile. You were performing for most of the evening.’
‘Am I that fucking transparent?’
She laughs and reaches up to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Like I said, I’m getting to know you.’
‘So much for thinking I’m an enigma. You’ve well and truly destroyed that.’
‘Sorry about that. You must be losing your touch.’
He gathers her in his arms and rests his chin on her head. Either that or he’s dropping his wall for the first time ever.
∞
Chloe yawns and opens her eyes, smiling when she sees Tate beside her. He’s still asleep, lying on his front with his arm over his face. The imposing and highly detailed griffin peers across at her from his bicep.
Moving slowly so she doesn’t wake him, she props herself up on one elbow and examines the tattoo that stretches the full width of his broad back. She dreads to think how long it took to complete. Whoever the artist was, they did an incredible job. Each and every feather is drawn to perfection and remarkably realistic giving it a three-dimensional feel.
It’s the same with all his tattoos. From the Celtic knots on the back of each hand to the swirling Celtic designs circling both arms and surrounding the griffin. Each design blended seamlessly into the next turning Tate into an impressive canvas of Celtic artwork.
‘You want a picture?’
Tate peeks out from under his arm and smiles at her.
‘Sorry. I was just admiring the detail. They really are stunning.’
‘They’d want to be. We had a love/hate thing going on while they were being done.’
She traces her finger over the wing on his back, following the lines down his side. Chloe looks up at his face. He’s staring at her, his head resting on his arms, his dark blue eyes focused on her.
