Page 66 of Red My Lips

“I love it when you talk business,” I hum. “We should get you cleaned up.”

“No, I’m going to wear your marks until I get to have you again.” Gage stands from the bed, naked and glorious, and moves to the dresser to pull out some clean clothes to wear. Leaning back against the headboard, I admire how the tattoos on his muscled thighs and firm ass dance and ripple as he pulls on a pair of boxers.

“Well, you’re gonna be wearing them for a while because I work tonight.”

I take the opportunity to take in every inch of his gorgeous body covered in my marks, happiness buzzing inside my head. By the time Gage pulls a t-shirt over his head, I feel like I could float right off the bed. I bite my lip in appreciation when he turns back to look at me.

“Good thing you know the boss.” With three large steps, he’s beside the bed.

“Mmmm, I do know him very well,” I say, looking up at him through my lashes. Placing one knee on the mattress, he hovers over me as he takes in my body that’s naked down to the sheet pooled at my waist. He shakes his head like he can’t fathom that I’m actually real, and it lights me up like a Christmas tree.

“I’d say you have him wrapped around your finger.” He pulls me in for a steamy kiss. “I want you to stay in my bed just like this for as long as you possibly can.”

“And if I get hungry? Am I supposed to cook naked too?”

“I like the sound of that.” My expression turns skeptical, and he relents easily. He doesn’t want me cooking naked unless he’s here to enjoy it in person with me. “I’ll have food delivered for you. You can wear a robe when you accept the delivery, but as soon as that door is closed, I want you back just like this.”

“You’re very bossy.”

“You have no idea.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Gage

The buzz of the tattoo machine thrums through me like a second heartbeat as the ink pierces my skin until it’s permanently stained. My eyes focus sharply on all of the little details as I maneuver the needle across my own flesh. Some of the artwork on my body has been created by other talented tattoo artists, but this one is too important. I’m not trusting this one with anyone else, I’m the only one who can do it right.

The deep red ink is the perfect shade—one I spent over an hour crafting, mixing, and perfecting. Out of all the ink covering my body, this is the most meaningful.

The most special.

I can’t claim credit for this work of artistry. I was blessed with this perfection, but I intend to preserve it and I refuse to fuck it up.

Every minute I spend with Jill, the urge to tell her the truth grows stronger, but I know she’s not ready yet. Once I know I have her, really and fully, to the point of no return—then I can tell her. But until then, I’m not saying fucking a word. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take, not when it comes to Jill.

She won’t take it easy, that I’m sure of. No matter when or how I tell her, I’m going to feel her wrath. But I’m not going to lose her because of her weasel of a brother. The cops never found a body, just like I knew they wouldn’t. They never will. And as painful as it is, Jill is slowly starting to accept the reality of the situation.

She’ll never see Tommy again.

Her life has improved so much since he’s been out of her life, whether she’s recognized it or not. No more late-night phone calls pleading for money for ‘just one more game’, no more bookies threatening her with violence when a debt hasn’t been paid. No more creeps grabbing at her when Tommy shows up to her apartment blackout drunk with some of his gambling buddies.

I know I technically still own her through Tommy’s debt. But I stopped taking her money a long time ago. In fact, there’s a bank account with three hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars in it with her name on it. She hasn’t noticed yet, and I’m not in a hurry to tell her. I’m a selfish bastard who likes when she shows up for her shifts where I can be close to her.

A ding sounds across my office as my computer screen lights up. The motion-activated camera in my kitchen detected movement, the feed showing me a look into my house. Jill’s wearing an oversized sweatshirt that falls off one shoulder and reaches her mid-thigh, and she’s standing in my kitchen with the food delivery.

After leaving Jill at my house this morning, I spent the next several hours tracking down the missing alcohol shipment. I might have had to threaten a few lives and blackmail one of my suppliers, but the missing liquor was secured—and then some. Dealing with those asshats, knowing Jill was lying naked in my bed, made me extra brutal.

Pausing my work, I stand and walk over to the desk for a better look. Leaning forward to brace myself on the wooden surface, my hand lands on a metallic piece of jewelry. Picking it up, the weight of it in my palm feels heavy with meaning—a symbol of my devotion to the woman I would do anything for. It’s satisfying. My fingers absentmindedly toy with the charm hanging from the chain as I refocus on the stunning woman in my kitchen.

I watch as she unpacks the meal I ordered from one of her favorite places—some soft pretzel bites, a Santa Fe salad with blackened salmon, a large order of french fries with extra house ranch dressing, and a chocolate lava cake. The smile on her face with each container fuels me, and I can’t help but smile too.

She goes for the french fries first, just like I knew she would. My eyes track how she dips the fry into the ranch generously and pops the entire thing into her mouth. I could watch her all day, just like this.

Except…

Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out my phone and type out a quick text.

Me: Take it off, baby.

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