Page 89 of Inked Desires

He lowers his head and sniffs his sweatshirt.

“I don’t smell anything,” he replies after a second.

“Well,Ido,” I snap, grabbing his hand.

I lead him through the studio, heading straight for the back entrance that opens into the apartment upstairs.

He doesn’t even get a chance to argue. I push him gently toward the bathroom and start tugging off his coat.

“Are you planning to undress me completely?” he chokes out.

I glance up just as my fingers curl around the hem of his sweater. Now he gets shy?

“I’ve seen every inch of your skin. No point pretending otherwise.”

His arms cross instantly over his chest, shielding his torso.

“I don’trememberthat!”

A crooked smile escapes me.

“Doesn’t change the facts.”

“Give me a little privacy, will you? This is already way too much for one day,” he mutters, calmer now, but still on edge.

Shame. I wouldn’t have minded enjoying the view a little longer.

I sigh and take a step back. I won’t push. I promised him.

“All right. Take your shower. I’ll leave one of my T-shirts by the door.”

Before stepping out, I press a kiss to his forehead. Then I rummage through my closet, grab a shirt, and lay it just outside the bathroom like I said I would.

In the bedroom, I turn on the bedside lamp and leave the door ajar so he won’t bump into anything in the dark.

With a tired motion, I strip down to my boxers and slide under the sheets.

That man in the shower has managed to tear down my life and every damn principle I had in less than a week.

I’d made a decision. Sworn to keep my feelings out of this.

And what did he do?

He brought in a fucking bulldozer and leveled everything.

There’s nothing left of me.

The soft sound of bare feet on hardwood floor breaks the stillness. I look away from the ceiling.

He’s standing in the doorway, uncertain.

“Would you rather sleep in the guest room?” I sigh, catching the tension in his stance.

“I’ve never slept with another man besides Jace,” he mumbles, clearly uncomfortable.

“You’ve already slept in this bed. With me. In my arms,” I correct gently.

“Really?”