Page 55 of Tears of Ink

Why?

Doesn’t he realise I’m not like other girls? You’d think the tattoos would have been a warning enough.

But of course, he doesn’t. He doesn’t understand the way I am. The way I will now want him— need him more than anything I’ve ever had—but then after, I will walk away.

He’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted.

He shouldn’t have kissed me.

There’s a knock on my door and I roll over in bed. I want to hide under the pillow, not show people how to make mosaic tiles with glass.

“What?” I grouch. It will be Tabitha, and I’m already hanging my head in shame for being rude. That girl brings out a side of me I didn’t know existed. “I’ll be up soon. Find Jennings and tell him I need about a hundred espressos.”

The door opens, and I give a little shout when Elijah’s dark head pokes through the gap.

“I’m not dressed,” I squeal. I wish I could be all sultry and seductive. But I can’t. I want to dive under the duvet and hide. He kissed me under the sprinklers. Like I need the reminder.

I don’t want him to see my skin. For the first time, I want to hide my tattoos. All the strength I had behind them evaporates. His eyes skim along my leg, along my thigh with its patterns and swirls, flowers and thorns.

“I brought you the first of many espressos.” He grins, wide and open, happy and relaxed. He clearly hasn’t lost sleep running our kiss through his mind all night like an out-of-control video stuck in an old VCR recorder.

“Uh, thanks.” I tuck the sheet around my chest. I’m not naked, but I am only wearing a sports bra and briefs. My skin is a mesh of rainbow splashes, black ink, and flesh toned pink. I don’t want him to see. The exposure is unsettling. My stomach tightens, and my pulse quickens. “Why aren’t you at work?”

“May I?” He motions at the edge of the bed.

Oh, good lord.

“Sure.” I cough a little and clear my throat. It doesn’t help ease the obstructive lump that’s making me hot and bothered.

“I’ve taken a couple of days leave. I thought you’d like the help.”

“And your mother approved?” I don’t even know why I just said that.

A flicker of a cloud floats across his features. “Even lawyers scared of their mothers are entitled to annual leave.”

“Elijah, I’m sorry.”

His startling blue gaze sweeps across my face, and I blush. That’s right. I blush. No way to hide it lying under white bedsheets. His frown morphs into a smirk.

“I’m Eli.”

“Eli,” I concede. It sounds funny on my lips. Elijah, for some inexplicable reason, seems to put more space between us. If I call him Eli, it means this friends thing is real and that deep down I might want to be more than friends.

I know that’s a childish fantasy. I don’t do more. Not ever.

I can’t go through today without talking about last night. It’s better if I just get it out there. I mull around for the words, and he watches me, his smirk growing.

“Stop laughing at me,” I snap.

“What?” He hands me my coffee and I take a tentative sip. It’s perfect: hot, sweet, strong as fuck, and definitely the rocket fuel I need.

“We need to talk about you kissing me in the greenhouse-thing.”

He raises an eyebrow. “It’s actually a conservatory.”

I glare. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“I kissed you. You looked beautiful, so I kissed you. It’s no big thing.”