Page 82 of Faithful

Then we spend a few minutes flipping through the catalogs on the shelf nearby.

“Do you ever just know what it is that you want to get or is it always different?” I ask him quietly as he starts a stroll along the collection of small flipbooks attached to the wall. The pages are filled with various hand-drawn designs.

“Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t,” Kai explains with his gaze firmly on the artwork. “Sometimes it’s a feeling. You want it embedded into your skin, but you don’t exactly know how it’s supposed to look until you either see it with your own eyes or get help defining it.”

He comes to a halt and turns his head to look at me.

There’s the distant rattle of instruments and cups in another part of the studio, but we are still alone in the room.

“So, which one is it today?” I ask, taking a step forward and closing the distance between us.

Anyone watching us now would have no illusions about the kind of relationship we share. And truthfully, I’m tired of playing a role. If I can be myself for a couple of hours in front of two strangers who are legally bound to keep my secret, then why the fuck not?

Kai absently chews his bottom lip and continues to stare at me with those goddamn eyes that make my stomach curl into itself. “A feeling,” he whispers eventually.

“What kind?”

“I think you know.”

My heart lurches. I’m not sure what to say, so I wait, and the wait becomes a loaded silence.

“You should get more ink too,” he adds and it’s so random. “If you want.”

“Do you want me to?”

“It’s your body. I can’t tell you what to do with it.” A smirk. “But you’d look hot. And don’t worry about the money. I got it.”

“Am I not hot enough for you now?” I joke, deciding not to bring up the last bit.

“Do you think I’m with you only because of your looks?” He steps into my space, reaching behind me to cup my butt cheek. “Or because of your fine ass?”

I do and say nothing. I kinda like his hand on my person and I kinda don’t care that KC may see us. Possibly because I’m still drunk.

“You think me shallow, baby?” Kai asks, flipping through the pages fanned out on the wall with his free hand.

“Shallow is the last thing I think of you.” My gaze lands on the images he’s studying from the corner of his eye now. They are some tiny lovey-dovey flowers in color.

“And if this feeling you’re talking about…” I whisper as I watch the small changes in his expression when he sees the drawing of a heart, “if it’s the same…?”

“It is.”

My throat tightens and I’m having trouble breathing, so instead of forcing myself to speak, I reach for the pages and flick through them one by one, looking for something to shoutthat’s the one. To declare its significance. To cement the bond.

I find it on the last page of the booklet. It’s black and it’s broken in half. It’s perfect. And it’s so very Kai.

There’s silence in the room, and it seems as though even KC and Estrella have vanished because we’re at the point where an important decision needs to be made, and they’ve sensed that a bit of privacy is imperative.

Wordlessly, Kai takes my left hand and pulls up the sleeve of my jacket. His gaze drops to my inner wrist, to the clean skin there, untouched by a needle.

He then rolls up the sleeves of his own coat and T-shirt and shows me the identical patch of skin unoccupied by any designs.

My pulse ratchets up.

“It’s all we’ve got… this moment, right?” I ask quietly, my words meant only for his ears.

Kai nods. “And you want to make it count.”

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