Page 110 of Possess Me! (I Want You To)

“What are you doing?” Prudence asked, and for the first time, he almost sounded eager.

“Your tattoos looked lonely,” I traced another delicate petal, shading in the edges gently, biting the tip of my tongue as I focused. “You brought the markers—so I figured…”

“I don’t mind,” Prudence was quick to reassure.

Shit, he was cute.

I bit back my smile as I grabbed a green marker and began etching leaves. His skin dragged beneath the pressure of the marker, and there was something weirdly sensual about the sliver of ink that was left behind when I lifted the tip.

We were both a little breathless as I moved on to the next rose.

“So,” I said, because our earlier conversations were still weighing on me. I had secrets, sure. But his were more relevant to the current situation, and now that we were settled for the night I could no longer hold on to the knowledge I’d discovered. “You can’t say no to me.”

“What?” Prudence froze. I felt the way he stiffened up immediately, and I huffed out a soft breath as I gave his hand a gentle squeeze, before I dragged a long winding vine up the inside of his elbow. Gooseflesh tickled in its wake, and I blew on the ink to dry it, my cock twitching as I heard his quiet exhale.

“I figured it out earlier.” I gave the sensitive skin on the inside of his elbow another gentle blow, just to watch him shudder. Or maybe that was my words causing the reaction? Either way. It didn’t really matter. “When you made me tell you it was okay to…you know. Hurt people? To cover up shit with the dude we killed.”

“You didn’t kill anyone.”

This argument was getting old.

Of course, he latched on to the wrong detail. Probably out of a misplaced sense of chivalry. If he thought I was going to freak out now that the day had settled, he was wrong. I’d already told him earlier that I was just as involved in the death as he was—maybe he needed to hear it a third time for my words to really sink in. “If you think I’m going to cry about it, I’m not.” I said matter of factly, moving on to the blank spot on his wrist that was just crying for a sunflower to be added. “It was him, or us. We chose us.”

When I glanced up to see Prudence’s response I was shocked to find him staring at me, pupils blown black with lust, his nostrils flaring. He licked his lips and I shuddered in response, accidentally leaving a squiggle on his arm. “Shit.” I tried to scrub it off, but the markers were permanent, so there wasn’t much I could do.

Prudence was silent for a few minutes as I traveled up the skin of his arm, trailing leaves and flowers in my wake as I filled in the gaps between his tattoos. I was busy adding a flower crown to the grim reaper on his bicep when he finally spoke.

Clearly, he’d been fighting his own demons in silence.

But he was done.

“Why are you bringing this up, now?” He asked softly, voice a quiet rumble next to my ear. I hadn’t realized how close we’d gotten as I climbed up his body, so the tickle of his breath through my hair made me shudder.

“Because we’ve been through a lot together,” I said softly, pulling the marker back so I wouldn’t leave a streak like I had before. “I owe you the truth.” I’d been thinking about this all day, though they had been background thoughts, swallowed by very real danger and the threat of impending doom. Now—with the stars for company, with the gentle hoot of a friendly owl overhead, and the crackle of the fire beside us—there was nothing stopping me from laying my cards on the table.

The realization that I loved Prudence made my heart flutter and my pulse skip as I licked my lips, finding words to put to the writhing serpents of my thoughts. When I glanced up, I met Prudence’s gaze again. The lust was still there, but behind it, deeper—past the turmoil, the desire, and the anger that always stubbornly guarded the surface of his emotions—I saw…hope.

Hope was a dangerous thing to give a man who had never had it before. But…if there was anything I prayed he’d learned about me after all our time together, it was that when it came to emotions, I was a good bet.

“I hope you know,” I started, making sure he was paying attention to me as I gave his hand a squeeze and the marker in my grip wobbled. “I would never, ever make you do something you didn’t want to.” I put every ounce of conviction I had inside those words, my honesty bled like an open wound between us, naked and vulnerable.

His lips thinned, like he didn’t know what to say—so I spoke again.

“And if I accidentally put my foot in my mouth and ask that of you? I expect you to tell me.” I bit my lip, suddenly insecure. What if he didn’t care about this? What if…what if I was wrong? My very real fears were valid, but I shoved them away. Because this moment wasn’t about me. It was about him. For him. He needed to hear this. And even if he could never love me back, even if these last few days we had together were all he had, I wanted him to know, till his dying breath, that he hadn’t made a mistake trusting me.

That he was safe with me.

“You don’t have to say anything,” I murmured, turning back to the masterpiece I was erecting on his bicep. He hadn’t moved since I’d begun speaking. Frozen like a statue. He hadn’t even breathed. “I just needed you to know that I’m on your side. Just because—for whatever reason—I can control you, doesn’t mean I’m going to.”

Prudence inhaled raggedly, and when he spoke, I couldn’t help but laugh—the marker skidding across his arm again. “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe.” I agreed, turning the unfortunate squiggle into a new branch. Happy accidents, and all that. Thanks, Bob Ross. “Maybe, I am an idiot. But I’m okay with that.” Another flower, another vine. I connected his bicep to the tattoos hidden by his t-shirt. “I’d rather be a kind idiot, than a clever asshole.”

Prudence pushed me off of him, discarded his t-shirt, then offered me his arm again. The t-shirt disappeared from view the second he was no longer touching it. Gone. Like it had never been there at all. I would’ve paid more attention to it, if I hadn’t been momentarily blinded by how absolutely gorgeous—and shockingly pale—he was. Skin like moonlight. But I forced myself back into action, continuing my bouquet of flowers up his shoulder to connect to his neck tattoos. His breath stuttered, and I tried not to stare at his tight pink nipples. His pecs danced as I dragged a fat petal across his deltoid, and he released a startled little breath.

Sensitive.

Huh.

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