Red leaned over, reaching out and looking down Neon’s shirt at the back. “Oh, I can totally work with this.”
“Okay,” Neon objected and swirled her shoulders so Red could back off. “I think I need a drink.”
Manic passed her a beer, and Neon’s face relaxed with relief. I had to smile at the way she handled Red’s blatant disregard for personal space, and Alyx’s very forward suggestion. If it was me, and Alyx and Red were dudes, I’d punch them both in the face. But not Neon. She knew how to keep a tight grip on her emotions—which was why her showing me her tears, telling me her fear of never feeling again, and our kiss made the moment we shared so fucking powerful. My insides were still coiled tight, and my black heart skipped a beat every goddamn time I thought about it.
Red sat back down. “I’m thinking something delicate, lots of lines and shades, maybe some poison ivy—”
“Like this?” Wraith lifted the side of her shirt, showing Red her tattoo.
“Yes. Like that. Wow,” Red tilted her head, “that tattoo is stunning. Where’d you get it done?”
I zoned out when Wraith and Red started to swap tattoo stories, chatting like they had known each other since fucking kindergarten. Nursing my beer, my gaze fell on Neon—of course it did. Her glossy purple hair looked radiant under the sun, and I had to admit I preferred the longer locks that flowed just below her shoulders. The dark brown swirls in her eyes gleamed, curtained by long, ink-black lashes. Her eyes always reminded me of mountaintops, strong yet subtle in every shape or form. Goddammit, this woman was just all kinds of perfect, and I hated that I never had the words to tell her just how fucking flawless she was—even with the scars she carried.
I placed the empty can of beer on the table. “I like the idea.”
Her gaze cut my way. “Of what? Me getting a tattoo?”
“Yeah.” I leaned back, leisurely crossing my arms.
“It won’t hide all the scars, Ink.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
She frowned. “Then why get it inked at all if it doesn’t cover all the scars?”
“It’s about taking that thing you didn’t ask for and turning it into something you choose.”
Our gazes were locked for what seemed like an eternity, and I knew that strong mind of hers was playing around with what I had just said. The way her heart-shaped lips pouted as she chewed the inside of her cheek, I knew was considering it.
“Okay, let’s say I agree to get inked—”
Manic snickered next to me. “Pun intended?”
Both Neon and I glared his way, and he shrugged. “What? Jesus. Am I the only one with a goddamn sense of humor around here?” He got up and grabbed his beer. “It was funny. I laughed. Sue me.” And then he went to join Onyx by the grill.
I focused my attention back on the woman in front of me. “You were saying?”
She shook her head lightly. “As I was saying, let’s say I agree to get a tattoo, what would I possibly get that would be large enough to cover my entire back and not look like I’m a fucking walking canvas?”
“When it comes to tats, the sky’s your limit. I mean,” I held up my hands inked from the fingers and up my arms, “look at me. The only part of me that’s not inked is my—”
“Dude.” Manic walked past behind me. “We don’t want to know.”
Neon smiled, and the sight fucking wrecked me. It was a smile that reached her eyes, one that had her entire face light up. It’d been so fucking long since I saw that look on her face, the look of a smile that wasn’t forced, or part of the brave face she felt she always had to put on around us.
Caught up in the moment, I refused to take my eyes off her. “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”
Voices around the table quieted, but I didn’t give a fuck. All I cared about was this gorgeous angel in front of me, a woman who held an immense amount of power over me just by fucking breathing.
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down while tucking a strand of violet hair behind her ear. I’d never seen this look on her before—shy, uncertain, and vulnerable. Neon was the type of woman who never shied at flirtatious compliments. In fact, she was pretty good at shrugging them off, cracking a joke of dismissing it with cheeky banter. But not today. She took my words and allowed them to sink in, the faint pink tint on her cheeks proof of that.
“Ink,” she started, but her voice faltered.
“I’m serious.” I didn’t care that there were people standing around us, the silence a sign that I managed to get everyone’s attention on us. I didn’t give a shit. All I cared about was her, and her alone. To me she was fucking everything. Fuck the sun. Fuck the moon and the stars and the air I breathed. She was my heartbeat. She was the blood in my veins. And the more I accepted just how much she meant to me, how in love I was with her, the easier it became to no longer hide it. The only thing holding me back from reaching for her and making her mine with zero intention of ever letting her go was the fact that I knew she wasn’t ready. Not yet. I had to constantly remind myself of that, stop myself from turning savage and claiming her in a way any man desired to claim his woman.
I leaned forward, an attempt for a little privacy. “You’ve always been fucking beautiful to me. You were beautiful before all this fucked up shit happened…and you’re beautiful now. Nobody can change that. Ever.”
I could see she was still digesting my words when I straightened from my seat, my eyes never leaving hers. My heart was screaming at me to tell her more, to tell her every fucking thought I’d ever had about her. How I lay awake at night thinking of her, wondering what it would feel like to have her next to me sleeping in my arms while I watched her take every breath. The words were burning on the tip of my tongue, begging to be spoken. But it wasn’t the right time.