Page 54 of Things We Burn

“So what are we in for today?” William asked, looking between the two of us. “Avery, you looking to get some ink?”

I laughed at the absurdity of that. “Me? No.”

I didn’t judge anyone with tattoos. In fact, I liked them a lot. I was fascinated with Kane’s. Part of me wanted to be a person who could cover her skin in something so permanent. Most of the chefs in my world had at least one.

I just didn’t think I could pull it off. Tattoos were at direct odds with everything I thought about myself.

“One day,” Kane said, rubbing my arm, and I gasped at him in shock. “But no, today, you’ve got the pleasure of permanently scarring me.”

“Great,” William stood from his seat. “Come on back.”

And just like that, we were walking through a large room that smelled of antiseptic and ink, buzzing mingling with the hard rock playing over the speaker.

Surprisingly, the tables were separated by partitions, and a lot of them were occupied. Not sure why I was surprised. Just because I didn’t consider getting a tattoo at midnight didn’t mean there weren’t plenty of people who did.

That fascinated me, people who lived lives like that. I was jealous of that freedom. Then it dawned on me... That was Kane. Rather glaringly obvious, since I was in a tattoo parlor with him at midnight, and he was on a first-name basis with those who worked there.

William led us to the end of a partition to a table covered with plastic, the walls covered by various posters of dragonsand mythical creatures, pictures of tattoos. On a shelf beside the tattoo table sat a stack of worn paperbacks.

Curiously, a lot of them were culinary related, biographies on some of the greats.

“Take a seat.” William nodded to a chair beside the bed.

“You know the drill, brother,” he said to Kane.

As I was about to let go of him to sit down, Kane’s hold flexed on my hand, and he dragged me to him so our mouths crashed together.

He kissed me hard and passionately, and though I was aware of the other man in the small space with us, I kissed him back with the same fervor.

Sitting once he let me go, I looked down at my lap. My ears became hot, knowing we had an audience, one who actually knew who I was, but William hadn’t so much as blinked, busy putting on latex gloves.

“What are we doing today?” he asked Kane. “Got sketches from some billionaire after you lost a bet again?”

Kane chuckled, the sound low and throaty.

“Nah, this one’s simple. ‘Yes, Chef,’ right here.” He whipped off his shirt then pointed to the empty spot on his left pec.

My heart skipped. My mouth went dry.

Had he just said what I thought he did?

He stared at me, an easygoing expression on his face as if it were totally normal for him to get a tattoo that was about me—on his heart no less—after however long we’d been ‘together.’

Was I missing something? Had I been out of the game so long that tattoos of names of lovers were no longer a faux pas? Surely not.

Or maybe it was Kane. William had just said he permanently inked his body when he lost bets, so maybe it meant something different to him.

His eyes went to mine, and something passed between us.

No, it didn’t mean anything different to him.

He was getting me, inked on his body.

I watched it happen.

Then, after shooting the shit with William, sharing a beer and talking about food, we left. We rode through the night, back to his brownstone where he made slow and purposeful love to me with my name inked on his chest.

We didn’t speak of it.

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