Page 112 of Bad Influence
“Caroline, it’s not that simple,” Killian says. He puts the pan aside and comes around the counter to me. Putting his fingers under my chin, he tilts my head back to meet his eyes.
“You’re only looking at it one way, but you don’t see the woman who protected her happiness the only way she knew how. You don’t see the strength it took to wear that crown, to bleed every day, and still keep every part of herself protected, safe, and hidden from everyone who wanted her to break.”
I swallow as tears prickle at the back of my eyes. “I told you I’m not that person.”
“And I said you don’t see yourself clearly.” Killian kisses my forehead and I close my eyes, reveling in his closeness. I don’t know why the fear doesn’t go away even when he stands in front of me like this. Even when he tells me that I belong to him.
Does everyone feel it? Does everyone go through life feeling slightly inadequate and wondering if we’re worth fighting for? No wonder we’re all exhausted.
“I want her,” I say, flipping the page and showing him the butterfly. She’s black, her body long and curved and wings in flight. The only color on her is the pale yellow around her wings.
“Somehow, I knew you’d pick that one,” Killian says.
“And look, the rain has stopped,” I say. “We can do it today.”
“Today?” The word is careful on his lips and I almost laugh. This man just fucked me into a couch on what would have been my wedding day to this brother. My pussy throbs at the memory of him thrusting into me, face hovering over mine as he told me that I will always be his.
“We don’t have anything else going on,” I point out. “We can cross this off the list.”
“Are you sure you want to do it today?” Killian asks.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to sue you if I wake up and have regrets,” I say, patting his cheek.
“Can you put that in writing? I’m not sure I trust a lawyer.” Killian narrows his eyes playfully and I giggle, pushing him back to the stove.
“Please finish making our lunch so I can get my tattoo!”
I take one last look at the image of me he’s drawn before closing the sketchbook.
“Oh my god, this is the best thing I’ve ever felt,” I moan.
Killian gives me a dry look. “It’s just air conditioning.”
“Exactly,” I say.
I’m standing in the middle of Black Ember Ink, my hair tossed up into a messy, lopsided bun to keep it off my neck. The rain has only made the humidity worse. I can feel the heat sticking to my skin.
“You’re sure about this?” Killian asks again.
“I am, but if you’re not I can always ask Eve to do it,” I say.
Instead of replying, Killian shoots me a glare. I stick my tongue out at him like a four year old. How dare he imply that I’m not in my senses?
“I thought you’d like a tattooed girl,” I muse, placing my hands on my hips.
“I like you. With or without tattoos,” he says simply.
I place my arms on the counter and lean over until our heads almost bump. “I’ll be ten times hotter with a tattoo.”
“How? Are tattoos going to change who you are?”
I wrinkle my nose, lowering my head further. Our heads rest against each other. My eyes are trained on his hands as he drawsthe butterfly from his sketchbook onto a piece of translucent paper.
“I can’t believe you just said I have a great personality. That’s the oldest brush off,” I say.
Killian lifts only his eyes to meet mine. “I think we both know you’re not getting away from me that easily.”
My heart flutters in my chest. We’re so close I can count his eyelashes.
