Page 70 of Sweet Nightmare

TATT-ME,

TATT-YOU

“You don’t have to wait—” I start.

But he interrupts me. “I’m not going anywhere, Pomelo.”

“Pomelo? Seriously?” I try to joke, despite the fact that my entire body is in agony now. “That’s the best you’ve got, Rocky Raccoon?”

“Would you prefer blood orange? Maybe bergamot?” he asks.

“Would you prefer Lucy in the Sky with—” I break off as the pain and heat overwhelm me.

Jude curses softly, then takes my hands. “Look at me, Clementine.”

This time when he says my name, it doesn’t sound so bad. In fact, it sounds almost tender. So I do as he asks. And even with the pain tearing through me, even with the heat feeling like it’s going to melt me from the inside out, I can’t help but get lost for a few moments in the intensity of his eyes.

As if on cue, Taylor Swift’s “Look What You Made Me Do” finishes and “The Ancient Art of Always Fucking Up” starts streaming from the forgotten phone on the admin building’s steps. My breath catches in my throat as my entire body yearns toward Jude as Lewis Capaldi sings about mistakes and breaking your heart over and over again.

At least until he steps back and orders, “Take your shirt off,” for the second time today.

I don’t take it any better now than I did the first time. “I really don’t think my wounds from the monsters matter right now—”

I break off as he suddenly reaches back and grabs his collar before yanking both his shirt and hoodie off in one fell swoop.

My mouth, already dry, turns into Death Valley. Because Jude’s strong, muscled, beautiful chest is now covered by those same black tattoo things that are all over his back and arms.

Every. Single. Inch.

Covered by looping, swirling, black feathery ropes…it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Jude is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen—between the tattoos and his heavily muscled pecs, his lean stomach and the tiny trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of the worn jeans he changed into earlier…

I saw him without a shirt on after he helped Ember. And I know his chest wasn’t tattooed then. His back and arms were—and are still—but his chest and stomach weren’t. And I know that earlier they started creeping up his neck and face, but they disappeared as soon as everyone’s powers got locked back down.

So why didn’t they disappear from Jude’s chest as well? And should I even care when he looks so damn good?

It makes me wonder just how much of his body is covered in them now…and which parts.

The heat inside me ratchets up another notch, but this time I’m not sure it has anything to do with the venom streaming through me.

“Are you going to take your shirt off or what?” he growls.

I gape at him. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

“Because I’m known for my sense of humor.” He grabs my hands again, and this time he strokes his thumbs over my knuckles. “Do you trust me?” he asks as the wind howls around us, rustling the trees and blowing strands of his black hair into his eyes.

Without thinking, I reach up and brush them away, then immediately wish I hadn’t as he traps me in his burning-hot gaze. “Answer me, Clementine. Before it’s too late. Do. You. Trust. Me?”

With my heart, no. Not in a million years. But with my life? I lick my too-dry lips, try to think past the inferno raging inside me. “I think so,” I finally whisper.

He makes a sad sound in the back of his throat. “I guess that’ll have to do.”

And then he reaches down and yanks my shirt straight over my head before pulling me tightly against him.

“What are you—?” I gasp out, shocked as much by the fact that we are suddenly skin to skin as I am by the chill of his body against my own.

“Wrap your arms around me,” he orders, and now his voice is even more growly than mine.

When I don’t immediately move to do as he says, he does it for me—twining his arms and his body around me.

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