Page 71 of Under the Ink

And then he said the words that nearly broke her. “It doesn’t matter what happened. I love every part of you…including the scars. Because they’ve made you who you really are.”

He saw her…who she really was under the ink.

Naomi wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled his lips to hers. For the first time ever, she wanted to give herself to him, to this man who saw right through the tattoos to the ugliness underneath.

And loved her anyway.

Making love with him again seemed the most perfect way to honor that—so she reached over and flipped off the light switch.

“No, leave it on.”

Her heart started thumping in her chest again as her breathing grew shallow.

But she wanted to trust him…believe everything he said.

“It’ll be okay, baby.”

Nodding, she flipped it back on. Then she gazed in his blue eyes, so sincere, so kind and loving—an expression she hadn’t seen focused on herself in so long, she could barely remember.

And if she was going to let him see her story, she wanted to see his as well. Grabbing the bottom of his Chevelle t-shirt, she pulled it up and suspected all or most of his ink was already visible—because his chest and belly had nothing.

God, she was going to look like a freak next to him.

But he kissed her, helping calm her nerves a little again. While his lips remained on hers, his fingers touched the bottom of her t-shirt—and she sucked down a breath of air through his kiss as if trying not to faint.

The beating in her chest wasn’t helping. Still, she let him pull the shirt over her head…revealing everything underneath. Once more, she wanted to cover herself up, because the bra wasn’t hiding anything she didn’t want him to see. Everything else was on full display.

Because that was where the real damage hid.

Instead of gawking at her, though, he picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around him as he continued kissing her as if to assure her everything would be all right.

Right now, in this very moment, it felt like it would.

As he carried her to the bed—fortunately, a darker part of the room—he lay her on top of the covers, his lips still on hers.

She hung on for dear life.

Could he feel how rapidly her heart was beating?

When his lips moved to her neck, she allowed her eyes to close, imagining how she might have looked had her emotions not bubbled out of her skin.

Hadshebeen able to process them differently.

But even through the insistent rhythm of her heart, Sage’s lips on her flesh delivered on his promise that it would be okay. He didn’t see the scars, didn’t see how ugly she was inside and out. He saw something beautiful—and she didn’t know what that was, but she believed what he said.

When he stopped kissing her, Naomi struggled—because she was going to have to open her eyes and realize that he’d changed his mind. Seeing her entire body was surely going to be a dealbreaker. Until he’d really looked, he hadn’t known just how damaged she was.

As she opened her eyes, though, she realized just how wrong she’d been. Instead of looking disgusted or horrified, his expression was one of tenderness, kindness, and even fascination. First, he ran his thumb over the scars covered by the compass tattoo along her sternum…just under where the collar of her t-shirts touched.

And then he kissed it…as if that would heal her.

While she tried to let go, she thought maybe it could.

Then his lips drifted downward, between her breasts, until he reached her belly.

There, too, were more tattoos that covered grief underneath. He found there her even blacker garden. The flowers had adorned her arm, but the weeds of distress grew—rather,died—there on her belly, each fallen stem artfully designed by her tattoo artist covering a raised strip of skin where the razor had left its mark.

First, he touched them…and then he kissed them.

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