Page 50 of Scars of Silk

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, pausing before answering, her dark green gaze watching me in the dim light. “Yeah, I guess.” Reaching up, she pecks a kiss on my mouth. “Anyway, have you thought about what you will do with the shop?” Her lips tease into a smile. “I’ve been hanging around here for two weeks and I haven’t once seen you open the front door.”

My shoulders lift, shifting our bodies tighter together. “I haven’t been in there since Faith left.”

“Because it’s something you do with her?”

I stare at the ceiling, my thoughts rolling as they have been for the last couple of months. “No. It’s not her, or because it’s something I did with her. It’s just because it’s dad’s and now he’s not here. I only opened it when Faith came back because I guess when she was here, I felt like he was too.”

Her lips press into my cheek. “I’m sorry you lost your dad.”

I sweep my fingers over her face, finding only heartfelt sincerity there. “And I’m sorry about your brother. I guess these things are sent to define us.”

I watch as her lips turn down at the corners. “I hate the way Will dying has defined me.”

“What do you mean?”

She pauses, nibbling her lip. “Since he’s been gone, I’ve been tied in knots. Unable to escape. Always trying to make up for the both of us even though I often feel like I’m failing myself.”

“Not when you’re here though?” My chest constricts another notch.

“No, when I’m here, I don’t want to be anyone else, or anywhere else.”

Her confession turns the edges of my lips into a wide smile. I can’t remember the last time I smiled that hard.

“Will you tattoo me? We could open your shop together tomorrow and then you could be the first.”

I shake my head, my answer instant. Running a hand down her smooth skin I relish the silkiness beneath my touch. “No. You are too perfect to ruin.”

“You don’t think Faith is ruined.”

My fingers continue their exploration of the surface of perfection. “I wasn’t the one to ruin her. And I won’t be the one to ruin you.”

Sienna chuckles. “That’s a strange mindset for a tattoo artist.”

“Oh now.” I pull her closer and breathe in the combined musk and perfume lingering between us. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to take money from anyone else. I just know I won’t ever press a pen against your skin.”

“Maybe I’ll get someone else to do it…”

“Well then, maybe I’ll have to kill them.”

We grin at one another for a long moment. “Come,” I say. “We’d better get some sleep. Especially if you want to come to work with me tomorrow.”

“I do.”

I turn her and wrap my arms tight around her middle.

“Tell me a story.”

“What do you want to hear?” I’ve never told a story in my life, but I’ll give her anything she wants. It’s a deep and dark need that rests in my soul. I’ll give her anything. Even me.

Her fingers trail across my ink, her delicate touch dancing over the patterns. “Tell me what these are.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.” She yawns heavily and I know she won’t even hear one story. “All of them.”

“We will need longer than the end of this week then.”

I hold my breath and wait for her answer.