Page 28

CHAPTER 28

Ford

I t takes her a moment to get off the bed, and when she does, she steps over to the mirror and turns around so she can properly see the tattoo. I considered tattooing my initials on her ass, but I figured she might kill me for it. Though if I died, I guess I’ll always be remembered by anyone who looked at her ass.

“I need to cover it,” I tell her.

Her golden eyes meet mine, and her silence fills the room.

When my family finds out that I purchased not one tattoo parlor but several of them, I’m sure they won’t be surprised. They all know how much I love to tattoo. I’ve done most of my father’s and brother’s ink since the moment River bought me my first tattoo gun. It was a weird present to give a teenager. I remember when he placed it in front of me for the first time, then rolled up his sleeve and told me to practice on him. Hawke and I had been with him and Anya for just shy of two years at that point, and it was then I realized how much I trusted them and how I’d be willing to die for them. No one has ever made a point to care about what my brother or I cared about. And despite how ruthless both River and Anya are, they treat those they care for well.

“I love it,” she finally says, then turns to grab her jeans from the chair. Bending over to put them on, she gives me a clear view of her ass, and I fight the urge to bite it. It’s fucking torture as my fingers dig into my palms to physically restrain myself.

Fuck, this woman does all kinds of crazy shit to me.

She stands back up, and my hand is already stretching out for her. It pauses midair when she asks, “Do you think it’s fine to sit on it for a few hours? I’m going to the movies.”

A dangerous sound escapes my throat, but it’s not loud enough for her to hear. “With who?”

“Matthew,” she answers without hesitation, then steps into my space as I grab the wrap. My teeth grind as she averts her gaze. I know she’s doing it to intentionally piss me off. And, dammit, it’s working. Her wrist dangles close to my face, and I notice she’s wearing a bracelet she’s fond of.

I slowly cover the tattoo, my focus locked on the task at hand because I’m certain if she looked into my eyes right now, they would be anything but friendly.

“You should cancel,” I suggest.

“No, I shouldn’t,” she says defiantly. “I just want to know it’s fine to sit on. I didn’t ask for your opinion on whether or not I should keep my date.”

“He’s a dickhead,” I growl as I finish securing the wrap.

“He’s someone who can provide me with the things I want from a man.”

I laugh, and it’s nothing short of sinister. “And what is it that you think you want, Chaos? Do you think he’ll take kindly to when you take a blowtorch to his front lawn?”

“I don’t think he’d be the type to piss me off so much.”

“Or give you any type of stimulation,” I mutter.

Her eyes narrow. “No, I think he’ll find other ways to spoil me. With nice gifts, dates, and text messages. He’ll shower me with attention like a normal fucking man who can express himself.”

“I bet he has a tiny dick,” I grumble.

“At least he’s not wasting my time and doesn’t treat me like a damn hit,” she snaps.

That one hits home, and I immediately retreat into myself because she’s right. I don’t even know why I came here in the first place. Granted, no one else but me was going to finish that tattoo, but we’re running around in circles. I’m repeating the same fucking pattern just because I want to see her.

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” she says as she slides her jeans the rest of the way on. She looks over her shoulder at me. “How much do I owe you?”

“I’ll have a taste as payment.” I nod to her pussy.

She scoffs, affronted, and I can’t help but smile at the fire that rages in her gaze. That pencil dick will never see this side of Billie, and part of me feels triumphant about that, even if I can only keep it as a memory.

“Money, Ford. How much?”

“I don’t want money. The choice is yours if you want to make the payment I requested.”

“You are such a dickhead, you know that?” She rummages in her purse and then pulls out a lollipop. She places it on the bed without so much as looking back at me. “Thanks for the ink. Taste this instead.”

I silently watch as she slips on her shoes, opens the door, and then strides out with an air of superiority. I grab the lollipop and pop it in my mouth, unable to stop myself. I always thought that her honey cakes were my favorite dessert. But I’ve come to realize that my favorite dessert just walked out the door to go get ready for a date with a man who isn’t me.

I want her and only her. I want our arrangement to be like it was. But I’m beginning to question if that’s all I want from her. I know I want more and can’t so easily walk away. And that makes me an asshole.

Life has kicked me in the ass more times than I can count. There’s no way in hell it’s going to be nice to me now. Then again, why has it ever had reason to?

I want the best for Billie, but I know it’s not me. I refuse to weigh her down.

I uncurl my hand and dangle her bracelet from my fingers, staring at it, mesmerized. I couldn’t help myself. If I can’t have her, I need something of hers instead.