Page 51 of You Rock My World
“Why all the thorns?”
“Sometimes, my inspiration comes from things that cut deep.”
“So tormented, rockstar. Do you ever sing about things that don’t hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Will I ever get a song?”
I laugh, not ready to tell her how many of my latest songs are already about her. “Be a good girl, and maybe you’ll get an entire album.”
She drags her nails lightly over my skin, just enough to turn me insane. “So, I can’t be even a little bad?”
“Oh, you can. But then I’d have to write a very different kind of song. Not sure I could release it.”
She shrugs. “I don’t mind private performances.”
“I know.”
She blushes at that and looks away. I love how she’s sassy but almost always falls back into shyness. Her attention drifts to my inner wrist, where she follows the loops of a small treble clef. “And this one?”
“It was my first tattoo,” I confess. “A simple nod to music.”
She keeps holding my hand and looks up at me. “I can imagine a younger version of you, impatient to get it done as soon as you turned eighteen.”
“That’s exactly what happened.” I smile, the memory bittersweet. “My mom wasn’t thrilled about it.”
“Did she love it, eventually?”
Josie is the only person in the world I could tell without breaking apart. Mom would’ve adored her. “She always joked that it was my most tame one, and she should have appreciated it more.”
Josie holds my gaze with a quiet understanding that makes it easier to talk about my mom. I don’t have to explain too much. She already gets it, what it’s like to carry memories that ache but are still good to share.
“She was right. It’s angelic compared to some of these others.” Josie chases the ink up my left arm, pausing on the minimalist infinity symbol. “Except maybe this one?” She flips my palms upside down, eyes searching. “Please tell me you have ‘live, laugh, love’ tattooed somewhere to go with this.”
I mock-scold. “I don’t.”
Her lips part in a goofy grin. “One day, Phoenix. There’s still time.”
Josie’s fingers continue their exploration, rolling up the short sleeves of my T-shirt and baring my shoulders.
I’m hyperaware of every point of contact between us, of the way her breath hitches as her fingertips graze over the faint ridges of an old scar hidden under the ink. She doesn’t ask how I got it, and just as well. I don’t want to think about Billie now.
Her gaze drifts lower, settling on my chest. “What’s hiding under there? More ink I should interrogate you about?”
My smirk grows. “You’ll have to see for yourself.”
In one swift motion, I grab the hem of my T-shirt and tug it over my head, revealing the intricate tattoos adorning my torso. Josie gasps, her eyes widening as they roam over the newly exposed skin.
“Dorian! You should give me a warning before doing something like that.”
I enjoy the flush of color on her cheeks, maybe too much. “Still too hot for you?”
She shakes her head, exasperated, but her gaze remains fixed on my chest, a hint of hunger swirling in the whiskey of her irises. Her hand hovers above the intricate Japanese waves on my right side, hesitating before her fingertips make contact with my skin.
I inhale sharply at her touch.
“They’re waves,” she murmurs, more to herself. “I wasn’t sure if it was a sea or a forest.”
