Page 85 of The Tattoo Artist

I groan, trying to sit up slowly.

Ares asks, concern evident in his voice. “Shit, you alright?”

“‘I always get there in time’ my ass!” He extends a hand to help me up, but before I can take it, I playfully grab his arm and pull him down beside me on the ice.

The ice on my legs and cheeks burns, but in that moment, all I can feel is the warmth of his hand interlocking with mine. I gaze down at our entwined fingers, a soft smile playing on my lips. My heart flutters with joy, and I wish this moment could last forever.

In his presence, time seems to stand still. The world fades away, leaving only the two of us, wrapped in an enchanting cocoon of affection. I don’t want to let go, not even for a second, as his touch indulges every fibre of my being. There’s a deep connection between us, a bond that goes beyond words. It’s as if we share a language of the heart, communicating with a single glance or a touch.

As the snow gently falls from the dark skies, I steal a glance at his handsome face. His eyes meet mine, and I feel a magnetic pull, drawing me closer to him. With a soft sigh, I sit up and lean in, pressing my lips against his, savouring the sweetness of our kiss. His hands find their way into my hair, holding me gently. Our hearts beat as one, the world around us fading into oblivion.

His lips are like poetry against mine, every touch expressing the depth of our emotions.

We part our lips and press our foreheads against one another.

Fire and Ice.

Dark and light.

Sadness and happiness.

Evil and good.

It is weird how everything has its own opposite, but you know they belong to each other.

Diávolos and Angelos.

Ares and Alexandra.

However, the one thing that bugs me, is if he is okay with me not remembering the past. Because a part of me feels like he’ll leave me if I don’t and call it insecurity and all, but I know that every minute of this is breaking his heart. How could it not? His own girlfriend doesn’t remember him after two long years. I would be broken; my heart would be demolished, and I would slowly give up.

But Ares didn’t give up.

Ares made a plan for me.

Ares watched me.

Ares loved me.

I know he wanted the old ‘us’ back, I can feel it in all our kisses.

“I love you so much, Ares...” I whisper.

“I love you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

ALEXANDRA JONES

WE FINALLY REACH THE CABIN AFTER THE LONG walk from the pond, and I push open the door, eager to be inside the cosy space. I slide off my shoes and begin to undo my coat. Glancing back, I see Ares putting the skates aside. Unhurriedly, he turns to face me, and our eyes lock in an intense gaze.

Feeling a surge of affection, I step towards him and grab the sides of his coat, pulling him close to me. Our lips meet in a passionate kiss, igniting a spark between us. The world around us fades away as we become lost in each other’s embrace, stumbling back towards the stairs in our fervour.

With gentle movements, my hands find their way beneath his coat, pushing it down his shoulders, and he helps discard it, throwing it to the side. The kiss deepens, and my fingers inch up to the hem of his shirt. I can feel his warmth against my skin, and the desire between us intensifies.

As I tug on his shirt, wanting to remove it, he raises his hand slightly, breaking our kiss. I look into his eyes, and he flashes a playful smile, knowing exactly what I want. Without a word, he sweeps me up in his arms, throwing me over his shoulders effortlessly. My heart races with anticipation as he carries me towards the bedroom, my laughter mingling with the pounding of my heart.

His hands grab onto my ass, as he settles me down onto the bed.

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