Page 52 of The Tattoo Artist

I nod, brushing my thumb across his lips, a silent promise to accept him for who he was.

“Apparently you did Clark a favour,” I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood again.

“Who?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“The son of the man you killed. He would have ended up marrying me.”

Ares scoffs.

“Would have killed Clark then.”

“Let’s not kill anyone for now.”

“That’s like telling me to not eat sweets.”

“Right, then don’t eat sweets-they aren’t good for you anyways.” I sigh, looking around the room. “Do you like men?”

He looks taken aback, but his fingers slid down my neck, resting on the necklace he had given me. Slowly, he leans close to my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine.

“I prefer my woman.”

“Oh, thank God.”

I grab onto his face and pull him down, our lips forced to meet one another. I can feel the hint of a smirk against my mouth, a teasing sensation that only fuels the fire burning within me. His lips are soft yet commanding, moving in perfect harmony with mine as if they were meant to be together.

Lost in the moment, I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, our bodies pressed together in a fervent embrace. The world around us fades away as we become lost in each other. His hands find their way to my waist, pulling me even closer as the intensity of our kiss deepens. His hand grabs the side of my legs, lifting me from the ground effortlessly.

He walks us over to the couch, laying us down. His tongue grazing my bottom lip, wanting to gain entry inside my mouth but I tease him with a smile. “Open your mouth, Alexandra.” He demands.

“Make me.”

He bites onto my bottom lip, I gasp-my mouth opening before he shoots his tongue down. I moan, his tongue intertwining with mine. Feeling every inch of my mouth. My hands grab onto his hair, brushing through it with my fingers as my back arches.

I feel his hand graze down to the hem of my dress, sliding it up my thighs.

Okay, red alert! This needs to stop!

You’re a good catholic woman!

You’re a virgin!

That’s right, I am a virgin!

Does he know?

Of course he doesn’t know stupid, but shit-he feels so good pressed against me. His dick was hard. I can tell, it is pressing against my thighs.

I should stop this!

But I shouldn’t.

I shouldn’t because it feels so good.

The way his hands caress my body.

As my hands glide over his broad shoulders, I feel a surge of anticipation coursing through me. His lips leave a trail of heat as they move down to the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

With a gentle tug, he pulls my dress up, and I lift myself from the couch, allowing it to slip off and fall to the side. A rush of vulnerability washes over me as I sat exposed before him, but his words, so tender and sincere, reassure me in a way I never thought possible.

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