Page 72 of The Tattoo Artist

He settles his keys onto the kitchen counter with a grin, “actually…you designed it.”

My eyes widen in surprise, “I designed it? No wonder it looks so good.” He chuckles, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride knowing that my touch was on this incredible space. But yet again, how does he come back here every night? Knowing that the woman who designed this very house, forgot him. I’ll be honest, I praise Ares for being so strong. I couldn’t imagine the love of my life forgetting me, not even remembering me. It would have broken me. I would have given up on everything.

All because of one accident.

As he steps away, I hop up to sit on the counter, my feet swinging playfully above the ground. “I’ll be right back, help yourself to anything in the fridge,” he said with a warm smile.

Ares returns with a bottle of whiskey, and I sauntered off the counter, giving him a sultry look. He pauses on his steps, his eyes locking onto mine as I slowly began to unbutton my shirt. Each button coming undone sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine. As my shirt drops onto the floor, revealing my red bra, I noticed his jaw tense, and I knew I had his undivided attention. His eyes hungrily traced the curves of my body, and I felt a rush of desire course through me.

With a teasing smile, I slipped my hands beneath the waistline of my skirt and sensually let it fall to the floor, leaving me in nothing but the red lingerie. I pick up the discarded skirt with my foot, playfully kicking it in his direction. “Alexandra…”

I took a step closer to him, the air between us charged with tension. My hands trailing over his chest, before bringing his ear closer to my mouth. “I want you; I need you and I want you to show me how it feels...”

I wanted to do this, I needed to do this.

I want Ares to do it with me.

I trust him.

“Alex…” he whispers, I kiss his lips softly. “Alex…we shouldn’t do this now.” I pull away, my brows furrowed in confusion.

“What?” I whisper back, I look over at him.

“You’re still a virgin in your eyes and I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything-”

I understood what he was trying to say. I take a deep breath, trying to process his words. My heart sinks as the realisation dawns on me. He’s right. I’ve been so caught up in the moment, in wanting to prove something to myself, to him, that I hadn’t fully considered his feelings. How he feels having sex with someone who thinks they are a virgin when they’re not.

“You...you don’t feel comfortable with this,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. The realisation hit me hard – I might have pushed him into a situation he wasn’t ready for, and the thought pierced my heart.

“Alex-”

“I pressured you, now that I think about it…coming into your workplace and telling you that-I think I should leave.” Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision as I moved to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the room. I grab my clothes from the floor, sliding them on my body as I walk into the hallway.

“Alex! You haven’t pressured anything onto me-” his voice trails after me, an urgency in his tone. He caught up with me, gently placing a hand on my arm to halt my hurried retreat.

I avoided his eyes, my gaze fixed on the floor.

“Ares…oh my god, I made you feel uncomfortable? I pressured you with the lingerie…”

I walk to the front of the door, hurrying to grab my shoes.

“I don’t feel uncomfortable, goddamit Alexandra!” he declares, and I hurriedly grab my shoes.

Sliding them on, I reach for the door, only for it to slam shut just as I was about to open it. His hands pressed against the door on either side of me, trapping me in a sudden, unexpected embrace. I could feel him pressed against me.

“Now, Alexandra, did you hear me say that I’m uncomfortable?” His lips brushed against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

“No,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

“No?”

“No, Ares.” I reiterated.

“Did you hear me say that you pressured me?” He asks, his touch gentle as he moved strands of hair away from my face.

I cleared my throat, my heart pounding, and shook my head.

“Use your words, Alexandra,” he commands.

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