Page 38

CHAPTER 38

Ford

E li tries to stop me on my way out, but I push past him. I need to know why she’s still ignoring me. She tells me she wants more from me, and the moment I try to give it to her, she shoves me away. She’s as much of a fucked-up contradiction as I am.

I manage to catch her before she gets into the cab, and I slip my arms around her waist, pulling her backward.

“What are you doing?” she squeaks, trying to wriggle free of my grip. She’s probably concerned that Dutton might see us, but I’m over caring who finds out. I’m over living for only them. If I ask for anything in this lifetime, it will be for her. Consequences be damned.

Even if her brother kills me for it, I want to know that she chose me, too.

And then I’ll simply haunt her for all of eternity.

I hold on to her tightly because if the only way I’ll keep her is by catching her, then we can play this game over and over again. “Come back to mine. I want you to do something for me,” I whisper into her ear.

“Ford, what if they see us!” she argues.

“I don’t care who sees us. I only agreed to keep us a secret to protect you.” Her body stills under my grip. “Stop running away.”

Something in that statement strikes her because she looks over her shoulder at me, her eyes wide and frightened. She’s scared. I let her go immediately. Is she scared of us? What could be us?

“Why are you doing this?” she asks quietly.

“Just come back to mine,” I plead. “Please.”

My please seems to surprise her. She swallows hard, glancing at the house where most of our loved ones are still gathered.

“Fine,” she agrees.

I open the passenger door of the cab and throw him a hundred bucks. “I’ll take her home.”

He smiles at the cash and nods. I never understood why Billie prefers cabs and subways over the drivers her parents happily supply. But I suspect it’s her desire for what she might consider an ordinary life.

I don’t look behind me to see if anyone notices us leaving because I don’t fucking care anymore. She’s quiet on the drive back to my house. I’m so used to the giggly and smiley Billie that I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. Am I what frightens her? Am I just as undeserving of her as I’ve told myself all this time? But I reach for her, always with the possessiveness of a man who will take no other as his.

I want her to be all mine, and I know that’s fucking selfish as all fuck.

But I won’t deny myself any longer.

When we arrive at my place, I notice the small smirk on her face as she looks at the front lawn. When I open the door, she immediately explodes with excitement when she sees Felix, and for once, I’m grateful for the little fucker who has brightened her mood.

My impatience grows, though, as she fawns over Felix, but I focus on the fact that she’s here at all. I finally have her back in my home, where she belongs.

Eventually, she looks up at me. Those beautiful blue eyes striking against the honey color of her hair. It’s so strange that I feel like she’s the color in my life. And having her not be in it for so long seemed to drain everything from me. “What did you want to show me?”

“Come with me.” I lead her into the back room where I do my tattoos and start setting everything up. She looks confused, and I ask her to sit in the spot that I’d usually take.

“Why?”

“I want you to tattoo me. I can’t reach.”

“Can’t reach?” she asks. “You want me to tattoo you? That’s not my job. I don’t know what to do. What if I fuck it up?”

“You’re more than likely going to fuck it up,” I smirk but grab her by her hand and gently pull her in. “I’ll show you,” I tell her. I explain how the gun works, how to use the ink, and how to clean my skin, and she listens and takes it all in. She doesn’t ask any questions, but I always knew she was a quick learner.

She pauses as she’s putting on a pair of gloves when she notices me removing my pants.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you I can’t reach.” I lie on my stomach on the bed in nothing but a shirt. She’s watching my every move, gripping the tattoo gun tightly, hyperawareness fueling the both of us. I want to rip her clothes off, but I expend what little restraint I have because I want her to permanently mark me first.

Whether she’ll have me or not, I want to always have her markings on my skin.

“What am I doing?” she asks breathlessly, apparently still in disbelief that she agreed to this. Not that I gave her much choice.

I motion to my ass. “I want the exact same one as yours.”

“My heart?”

“Yes.”

She bites her bottom lip. “What if it’s bad?”

“What if it’s great?” I counter. “Besides, it’s on my ass. Even if you fuck it up, I’m not wearing any bikinis anytime soon, so no one else will see it.” I wink, and she laughs, the sound of it drawing away any tension I was holding on to.

Her eyes narrow, as if she’s suddenly serious about the task at hand. It’s the same expression she showed when learning new songs on the piano or when her mother would teach her new recipes. I’ve been silently watching her whenever I could ever since I met her. I was just in denial from the start, but not anymore. I couldn’t deny it anymore if I tried.

Lying here, I try to tell myself that she’s an ugly duckling so my cock doesn’t get hard as I watch her. But it doesn’t work because I know she’s the most beautiful girl in the fucking world, and her hands are about to be on my ass.

“Any second thoughts?” she asks, looking at my ass.

“Not about this,” I reply, then instruct her how to start.

She nods and bites her lip as she listens, then she leans forward. I lie there, completely captivated. I can see her hands are shaking, but she quickly gets the hang of it. When I tell her to add a little bit more pressure, she does. And by the time she’s done with the first half, I barely have to guide her at all.

The minute the tattoo is completed, she puts the gun down and takes off the gloves. Then she studies her handiwork with a small smile, seemingly satisfied.

“It’s actually not bad,” she says, meeting my gaze.

I get up from the bed, go to the mirror, and have a look myself. She’s actually did a pretty good job. When I turn back around, my focus locks on her face. She’s no longer looking at the ink on my ass. Her gaze is trained on my cock, pressing against my boxers. It twitches as if aware of her attention.

Her blue eyes meet mine again, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful—my girl smiling up at me, cheeks flushed with pride and gaze filled with desire.

But what hits me the hardest is the fact that this house doesn’t feel like a home without her in it.

And my heart—not to mention my cock—is led by the leash she’s put on me. I’m insatiable when it comes to her, but not just for her body; I need all of her all the time. And I’m starved when she’s not near.