Page 124 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

“Would you complain if it was?”

“I thought no names was rule number one at a tattoo studio.”

“Since when are you a rule follower?”

“But what happens if you stop loving me?”

His brows tug at the center as if he’s convinced he heard me wrong, looking down at me with so much raw emotion, it takes my breath away.

“That’s why you wouldn’t want my name on you?” he rasps. “‘Cause you think I’ll be the one to stop loving you instead of the other way around?”

“I mean, is it so ridiculous?” I challenge, watching as he collapses onto a rolling chair, its wheels squeaking as he rolls it closer until our faces are mere inches from each other.

“I love you,” I continue. “I know I’ll keep loving you. But I can’t exactly guarantee how you’ll feel in the future or anything––”

He slams his mouth against mine with so much fervor, so much depth and emotion, I can feel it in my bones. I squeeze my eyes shut, savoring the bruising kiss the same way I’ve tried to savor the sweet ones, not knowing if it’ll be my last.

When he rips his mouth away from me, he growls, “Don’t youeverquestion whether or not you’re the only girl for me.” The promise sends tingles racing down my spine. “We clear?”

I nod.

“Forever, Mads. If it didn’t freak you out, I’d get down on one knee right now to prove it to you. You’re it for me.”

“No matter what?” I choke out, praying he can’t see past my phony façade. The one saying everything’s okay, and we’re one big, happy family. Because it might be a lie. I don’t know. I don’twantto know. Because if I ever find out the truth, if I ever find out Milo isn’t Penny’s real father, my world will be wrecked. Penny’s world will be wrecked. And a small part of me wonders if Milo’s world would be wrecked too.

With a soft kiss to my temple, he murmurs, “Always, Mads.”

“I love you,” I whisper.

“Love you too, babe. And it’s not my name, by the way. Although you’re making me want to change my original idea now,” he mutters.

I smile back at him, his scruff scratching my palm as I touch his cheek. “Maybe one day I’ll be lucky enough to wear your name. But as for right now, you should go with your initial idea so good ol’ Jos can get home and watchM*A*S*H.”

“All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

* * *

The needle doesn’t exactly feelgood, but it isn’t too bad, either. However, it’s the intermittent open-mouthed kisses along my spine and neck which really do me in. It’s official. I’m now addicted to tattoos, but only if they’re given by the right person.

And Milo? Well, he’s pretty damn perfect.

As the buzzing from Milo’s tattoo machine ceases a little while later, he announces, “Done.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

“Does this mean you’ll let me see it now?Pleeeease?”

His eyes shine with mirth as he offers his hand for me to take. Once my feet are firmly back on the ground, he guides me to the floor-length mirror inside his stall, making sure my hair stays over one shoulder to keep it from touching my fresh tattoo and tender skin.

“Take a look,” he offers.

I peek over my shoulder, staring at the reflection of a simple black and white dandelion. Part of its petals has turned white, begging to be blown and wished on, while the other half is still intact, growing wild and free. I love it.

“What do you think?” he asks, breaking through my awe as I study the perfect piece of art I’m lucky enough to carry with me for the rest of my life.

“It’s…” I look over my shoulder again, my gaze connecting with Milo’s through the mirror’s reflection. Turning around, I face him fully, unable to hide my grin for a single second longer.

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