Page 46 of Obsessive Love

I'm snapped out of my thoughts by what she says and I glance at my covered arm as an unfamiliar pang of fear shoots through my body.

Will she like it?

Am I ready to bare my soul and tell her how deeply I feel for her?

Will this push her further away and make it harder for me to convince her we're meant to be?

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sophia

"Kaleb," I say, drawing his attention away from his arm and back to me. "Take it off so that I can clean it, please." I watch as he frowns at me, seeming to be in conflict with himself.

I shake my head and grab the cotton wool from the first aid kit, soaking it in antiseptic.

"Never would've pegged you as the type of man to be insecure about getting his top off," I tease, trying to make light of the situation, even though internally I'm freaking out about what his arm's going to look like beneath the sleeve.

With the amount of pain he seemed to be in when I accidentally knocked his arm, and the fact that he's unsure about taking his top off, it makes me think that the sight is going to be gnarly, and I'm hoping I can stomach the sight of it so that I can clean him up.

He huffs and then leans against the counter as he reaches for the hem of his T-shirt and lifts it, achingly slow. My eyes hone in on his sculpted abs as he reveals them, inch by painstakinginch. I subconsciously lick my lips when the pocket watch tattoo comes into view, eliciting memories of the night we spent together.

He lifts the top over his head and pulls his uninjured arm out of the sleeve. His chest expands as he takes a deep breath and then slides the top off of his left shoulder and down his injured arm.

I lift the cotton wool in my hand, prepared to wipe away any dried blood, but my eyes don't land on a cut. Instead, I'm graced with the beautiful sight of intricate butterflies inked into his skin. Swarms of them surround his arm, flying from his wrist all the way up to his shoulder.

My jaw slackens, and I drop the cotton wool. I am no longer worried about an injury – not that I can see one anyway. My hand instinctively moves forward until my fingers brush over the wings of one of the bigger butterflies. His breath hitches as my skin connects with his, but I don't dare take my eyes off the masterpiece on his arm to look at his face.

"Do you like it?" he asks, twisting his arm around so I can see the butterflies that wrap around his tricep, reappearing on the other side and moving up to his shoulder.

"It's beautiful," I breathe, smoothing my thumb across some of the smaller butterflies on his wrist. I lean closer, inspecting the intricate design on the butterfly wings, and my brows raise in surprise. I finally tear my eyes away from his inked skin and look into his emerald eyes. "Are they purple emperor butterflies?"

"Yeah. Your favourite species," he states.

My heart beats loudly in my chest as my stomach dips because he's right, they are my favourite type of butterfly. Not only does he know that information, but he has them tattooed onto his skin.

"They're your favourite because of their colour, but also because they symbolize inner strength," he says, watching me asI stare at him in a confused daze. "You wondering how I know that?"

I nod, not trusting myself to string a coherent sentence together as his words mix with the sound of my erratic pulse thrumming in my ears.

"Your favourite colour has always been purple, ever since you were a little girl. You used to always wear something purple, even if it didn't match your outfit. You've also always loved butterflies because of their beauty. You were fascinated by them when you were younger, so much so that you used to go to a certain park that was surrounded by woodlands so that you could observe all the butterflies flying around whilst everyone else was playing."

My brows furrow as I listen to the facts pouring out of his mouth. I'm entranced, hanging onto every word and curious as to how he knows so much.

"Purple emperors became your favourite butterfly the day that Chase Richmond pushed you over and grazed your knee," he mutters, reaching his arm forward and brushing locks of my hair behind my ear, tracing his thumb across my jaw before he settles his hand against his legs. "You ran away into the forest and that's where you first saw one."

Tingles spread across my skin from his touch and his softly spoken words. Every piece of information is swirling around inside my head, coming together like puzzle pieces.

"A-are you telling me that you've been watching me this whole time?" I ask in disbelief, breaking myself away from his mesmerising eyes and busying myself with soaking another cotton wool in antiseptic.

"Pretty much," he replies, turning his arm to show me the small slice across his arm from where a bullet grazed his skin. I roll my eyes at his answer and his injury.

"Stalking people is illegal, you know?"

"I wouldn't call it stalking. It's more like…investigating."

I shake my head and dab the cut, avoiding looking at him or speaking to him as I try to process everything he's telling me.

"You know why I love your necklace so much?" he asks, reaching for the butterfly pendant dangling from my neck.

---