Page 55 of Take My Hand

“No. Just a fresh tattoo.”

I laugh. “I didn’t think you had any space left there.”

He shakes his head and rests his chin on his shoulder, looking at me over his back. “I got a cover-up.”

My brow dips.

“You can take it off. See it for yourself.”

I reach forward and gently remove the bandage. It’s a tiger mid-roar, with the body curved along the line of his shoulder blade. It takes me a moment to realize which tattoo of his is missing, now buried beneath the new artwork.

“You covered the spider,” I say softly.

“I did.”

My fingers tentatively trace the edges of the new piece. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“No part of me should make you uncomfortable, butterfly.”

Tears pool at the corner of my eyes, and I blink quickly to clear them. He turns around and pulls me into his chest, holding me.

The thoughtfulness of him to do that for me is too overwhelming for words. Instead of trying to think of a response, I lift my head and kiss him. Gently, kindly, a kiss translating everything I can’t verbalize to him but showing him how much that means to me.

His lips part, allowing my tongue to slip through and taste him. I deepen the kiss and hold him tighter, wishing I could capture this moment with a photo to remember it forever.

No one has ever thought of me in the way that Hayden Coleman just did.

And I want to show him my appreciation for it.

“I think this is the part where you show me all of you,” I whisper against his lips. “Use me.”

He doesn't have to be told twice. Backing me up step by step until my knees hit the edge of the bed, he continues to crowd me until I have no choice but to fall back and sit on the edge.

My shirt has long been forgotten since the moment we stepped into the room, but I still have my bra on, which Hayden looks at with annoyance. He reaches behind me and unhooks it with deft fingers, fingers I’ve watched move so effortlessly over the strings of his bass while he performs and I’ve been dreaming of touching me again. Cold air hits my nipples the moment the material falls free, hardening in response. Hayden stares at them hungrily. He scans every inch of my naked torso, scorching my skin and setting off a stirring deep inside.

“Fuck, butterfly, you’re beautiful.”

I blush at the nickname and his praise.

He digs around his bag for a moment.

“This will have to do,” he says, turning to face me. He winds the black strap around one of his knuckles, before unraveling it again as he stalks toward me.

“What do you have there?” I ask, trying to keep my voice teasing but it comes out heavy, desire infused in my tone.

I peer at him through my lashes, enjoying the way he’s towering above me. “If I would’ve known this was going to happen, I would’ve brought proper restraints. But this will have to do.”

My eyes bulge, and I look closer at the material. A fucking bass strap.

One he would use onstage.

But this one is all black, different from the red checkered one he currently uses.

“Do you want this?”

I nod, but Hayden grabs my chin, steadying my gaze on his own.

“You tell me if you want me to stop, alright? I’ll untie you. No questions asked.”

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