What does it mean, the Chinese-style dragon adorning his shoulder and bicep? The rose and thorns on his chest? The words above the flower: Be Brave, Live?
I wish I was brave enough to draw my soul on my skin. To offer up my pain in a song for the whole world to see.
I trace the words with my fingers. "When did you get that one?"
"About a year ago."
"No women's names?"
"Love is temporary. Ink is forever."
His chest and shoulders are strong. Not an ounce of fat to cover a perfect six-pack. I run my finger down his torso to that sexy v-line guys get.
I look back into his eyes. "You won't fall in love, or you won't fall in love with me?"
"I won't fall in love."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I am."
"But how?"
"Because I know."
I press my hand against his stomach to remind myself why I invited him in. "That's not an answer."
"I'll make you a deal. You accept my answer and—"
"You can believe whatever you want." Even if it doesn't make sense. The Miles in that song, the Miles who tattoos a mantra on his chest—that Miles is committed, passionate, vulnerable.
The one sitting next to me… If I didn't know better, I'd be sure that nothing had ever hurt him.
Miles ignores my objection. "
If I ever do fall in love, I'll add her name to my collection."
"Whatever makes you happy."
He digs his hand through my hair. "This makes me happy."
A blush spreads across my cheeks. He's in control again, and I'm the prey again. I need to do something to affect him, too.
I brush my hand against the waist of his jeans.
"Doing some more investigative work there?" he asks.
I nod.
His breath gets heavy. "What are you hoping to find?"
I tilt my head so my lips are inches from his. "The reason why you're so arrogant."
"You already saw me naked."
"It was too dark. I didn't get a good look."
I cup the bulge in his jeans. Words flee my brain at an alarming rate. My body takes over. It knows one thing: it needs to touch him.