When he leans forward, picking up the second towel from the bed next to me, ready to dry his wet hair, I get a good look at the tattoos on his shoulders—the angry, bare rose thorns drawn over his skin in black ink. Where the thorns end, blood is splattered in red ink.
My chest tightens, and all the warmth and heat evaporates as I’m suddenly surrounded by a feeling of cold.
They look so real. Every time I see them, I imagine the thorns pricking his skin and drawing blood. I flinch at my imagination.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” Zander perches next to me on the bed.
I shake my head. My heart clenches just looking at his face.
“It’s my back, isn’t it?”
“No.” I shake my head, but I guess it’s not very convincing.
“Don’t lie.” His fingers run back and forth over my cheeks, making my throat scratchy.
I gulp down the pain, hating to see him this serious so early in the morning. “Does it hurt you too? To look at my back?” I grab his hands, which are resting on my face.
“Rose, your marks are different from mine. My art is self-inflicted. It’s a reminder of my suffering. While your marks are a reminder of how far you’ve come. They show your strength.” He squeezes my hand, trying to make me believe something I don’t feel.
I haven’t come that far.
I haven’t gathered the courage to decide on a wedding date or to think of a future beyond getting engaged.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing with Zander, dragging him along in this hope that someday we’ll get married.
Can I even do it? Marry him?
“Let’s talk about something else,” he says when he notices my hand gripping the cuff of my nightshirt. “What were you thinking before this?” Zander tilts his head toward his back before getting up and grabbing the glass of water on top of the nightstand. His neck bobs as he drinks.
“I was thinking you’re too sexy.”
The water he was drinking comes out of his mouth. “Holy fuck, couch girl,” he chokes out. “I’d have never guessed those words could even come out of your mouth.”
“Me neither.” I look away from his burning gaze, suddenly feeling shy around him.
“No, don’t you dare go back to being all cute and shy.” He grabs my face and forces me to look at him. “Now that I know you have a naughty bone, I’d certainly like to see it more.”
“I don’t have a naughty bone.” I shake my head, and his hand drops from my face. “I have the exact same number of bones as any other woman in this world.”
He flops down on the bed beside me. “Say something more.” His shining eyes blink fast, causing a tingling in my chest.
“Zander—”
“Please.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and my heart does a happy dance upon watching his amusement.
“I…” My hands twitch, pulling on the cuffs of my nightshirt, but this time for different reasons. “I want to do something.” I look at him from under my lashes.
“What is that?” He grabs my hands, displaying a wide grin. His left dimple makes me all mushy and crazy.
“Something…you wanted.”
“Oh, babe, you’ll have to give me more than that. If you ever get to know what all I want from you, with you, to do to you, you might run for the hills.” A low groan escapes his lips as his back hits the mattress and his arm covers his eyes.
My throat dries at the sight of him spread over my queen-sized bed, his broad bare chest on full display.
“Really?” I squeak. “I don’t want you to hold back.”
He removes his hand, and his steamy gaze meets mine. “Rose, I don’t hold back. Your cuteness, your shyness, it just forces my brain to create all these fantasies. And most of those we live, like in front of your bathroom mirror or near the fireplace.”