Page 32 of Sully

Like being forced to speak in front of a crowd, or being chased through the streets, or even having someone break into my place at night.

Before right then, there’d never been a basis in reality to harp on.

I couldn’t have anticipated how strongly I would dream of the man who abducted and nearly killed me.

It was like being back there.

Except everything was heightened, dragged out, intensified.

I woke up with a cry. But the panic was already in full effect. Thundering heart, choking sensation, the cold sweat. All of it.

Then there was Sully.

He was playing it light, but I saw the concern in his bright eyes. That was… surprisingly attractive. I always thought that having a panic attack was one of the most embarrassing things possible. The idea of having one in front of a man—let alone an insanely attractive man—was horrifying.

But Sully didn’t seem to judge.

He just jumped into action.

He brought memarkers.

Then offered me his back tattoo as a canvas.

I was sure I wouldn’t do it. I mean, I hardly knew this guy. It was awkward to touch him all over. Except… he wasn’t making it awkward.

So I reached for the markers and opened the top, smiling to myself as I found that every single one of the markers had the wrong colored cap on, likely placed by little hands that didn’t know better, or ones who were too impatient with their clean up to care.

I moved up onto my knees and crawled across the bed toward Sully.

My mind flashed with the memory of him reaching to pull off his shirt, showing me a surprisingly fit chest and torso for just a second before he moved to rest on his belly on the bed for me.

Heat surged through my body as I leaned over him, resting a hand on his shoulder to steady myself, then pressing the nub of the marker against his skin.

His back piece was massive, covering almost every inch of skin in an outline from shoulder to shoulder and all the way down to his waistband. It was one cohesive piece of art but featured so many different elements. Up near his shoulders were clouds and a sun setting over a town full of houses. Moving downward, there was a ship in the center, an eagle, swords, a compass, a snake, and some flowers and foliage.

In short, it was the absolute perfect coloring page.

As much as coloring was supposed to be relaxing, when I found ones that were too intricate—like mandalas—I got stressed out and had to put it aside. But Sully’s back, while full, wasn’t full of too much fine detail.

Sully reached back, removing his phone from his pocket. He fiddled for a moment as I traced the leaf around one of the roses. Then music started to play from the phone, familiar pop songs it was impossible to avoid since they played on a loop everywhere.

It wasn’t long before I was really starting to fill his tattoos in with color and humming along to the music.

I didn’t even realize how quickly and fully the anxiety had dissipated until I was putting the finishing touches on the boat.

“You okay?” Sully asked, sounding a little sleepy.

“Trying to figure out my next color,” I lied.

I could have told him it worked, that I felt better. But that would run the risk that he would think the job was done, get up, and leave.

I wasn’t ready for him to go yet.

That was a completely new experience for me. Generally speaking, I was pretty much always ready for people to leave so I could be alone. But I didn’t want Sully to leave yet.

I maybe didn’t want him to leave at all.

I was sure if I dug deep enough, I could conclude that I wanted him around because we had a trauma bond from thewhole bomb thing. We could have died together. And he’d stayed there with me, ready to go if he couldn’t disarm the vest.

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