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“You are literally the little boy provoking the girl he likes.” Von huffs.
“Baby, you’re all man and youlikeit when I provoke you.” My heart beats faster with the thought that he might throw me out, so I wedge my leg between his as if that will make a difference.
“Skit fan, I do.” And a flicker of flame replaces the iciness.
“You need to teach me to swear in Swedish.” I kiss him because he says I’m an expert, and every bit helps me not screw this up.
“A man needs a few secrets.” His lips trace my jaw. “Now I plan to lick every single one of your tattoos while you tell me the meanings.”
“You first.” I push his pelvis away to see his tattoo. “This is similar to the necklace you made Mads.” I trace it with my forefinger.
“It is. It honors the dead—my best friend. Odin’s symbol that connects the transition from life to death and back again.” His voice is heavy with anguish.
I’m taken aback that he chose that symbol for Mads and sorry he lost his best friend. I won’t pry, but I’m curious. “That’s not the usual place to put a tat for a friend.”
“My grief is private. I needed something for me that wouldn’t be on display for everyone else.”
“That’s touching.” I kiss it. Von holds his emotions so tight I’m not surprised he wants it to be private. “And the one on the back of your shoulder?”
“It’s the Nordic symbol for courage. Luckily my brother talked me out of getting the symbol for strength because he said in this day and age, it’s an asterisk.Fanwas right. So I have courage on my shoulder.” His mouth turns up as he lays me flat on my back, but I hate the pain in his eyes. “Your turn could take hours.” He sucks the flesh on my collarbone. “I’m keeping you up until dawn.”
Von’s true to his word, and exploring my tats eases the hurt in him. I have so many tattoos that it’s hard to remember when and where I got them. Cole inked the most intricate and meaningful ones. I didn’t trust anyone else with my skin once I met him. He taught me everything I know, and I wouldn’t be the artist I am without him.
Von has covered my torso and back and moves to my legs. My groin and ass are tat-free. He rests between my legs, massaging my thighs. He’s avoided the tattoo across my chest but can’t ignore it any longer.
“What does that mean?” He tilts his chin up, indicating my chest.
I can’t give any of my usual answers because he’ll call bullshit. The truth is messy. “When I was young, other kids could tell I was different. I didn’t know what gay was and I’m sure they didn’t either. But they called me poison ivy as a play on my lastname. Typical kid stuff.” My shoulder rises to shrug, but I stop the motion because of Von’s expression.
“I hated it. Then I found hockey as an outlet—a way to be normal.” I motion air quotes around the word normal. “I got to release aggression and leaned into the insult. Mads helped me make a jersey with Poison on the back, as if it was my last name. A friend of a friend knew a guy who would tattoo me underage. I asked Cole to fix it as a reminder of where I came from.”
“Where did you come from?”
“Hate. And I choose to reject it,” I say, but Von looks skeptical.
“Is that why you said you’re bad at this?” He circles back to my admission.
I sigh. “I don’t do relationships for a reason. They lead to unrealistic expectations, which I fail at and fuck up.”
I don’t say out loud that I don’t trust guys enough to try.
“Then no expectations.” His fingers trail over my legs, causing my muscles to jump. “Your incredible thigh muscles came from hockey.” He changes the subject and I’m grateful.
“High school and a year of college.” I shrug. “But they’re nothing compared to the trunks on you.” I slide my hands up and down the granite of his thighs.
“I used to run. A lot.” His face is blank and I know there’s a story, but he speaks again, changing the subject. “What’s your favorite tattoo?”
“It’s not a simple question. It’s like asking a book lover for their favorite book. There’s the one that means the most, the design that I’m most proud of, the one that makes me happy, and I could go on.” I smile as he scans my body, trying to figure out my favorites. I let him get away with avoiding the subject of his muscular build. At some point, I’ll get it out of him.
“Tell me everything.”
Stifling the urge to tease him, I’m serious. “The wolf on my shoulder means the most to me. Cole and I designed it together, and we both have it. Did you know Cole is a widower? His deceased husband had it too, since wolves symbolize loyalty and family. I had nothing, and they took me in and became family.” Von traces the wolf with his jaw clenched as I explain.
I regret telling him until he says with haunted eyes, “I am glad you had them.”
Then there’s no more talking. No more dredging up the past. We devour each other as if we hadn’t had each other less than an hour ago.
Chapter fifteen