“It started fine, maybe even a little fun. But soon, everything changed. Gradual at first. The petty arguments, the grandstanding for the cameras. The social media wars. Things like that supposedly bring in higher ratings. But what do they do to friendships? To trust? It erodes them.” His head bent over hers, his lips moving over her hair, brushing the rim of her ear. Those large hands rubbed up and down her back as if soothing her. But maybe it was himself he tried to calm. To comfort. “One day I had a family, and it seemed like the next, I didn’t. The petty arguments turned into bigger ones. Resentment toward me festered and then the people I called friends were trying to ruin my shop behind my back to get their own show. Like I gave a fuck about a show.”
At some point, they’d stopped moving, and she could just imagine what they looked like. The two of them, standing there, arms wrapped around one another, his lips buried in her hair. Lovers. They looked like lovers. She hadn’t had him inside her, but they definitely were intimate. In this moment, he shared part of himself with her, and she’d remain in this one spot all night if he needed to purge himself.
“I walked away. From the shop. From the only family I’d had since my mother died. From the show that started it all. I wanted nothing to do with the cameras, fame or being the day’s topic on some tabloid site. I came to Rose Bend to start over, and I have. My place, tattooing and peace. I don’t want anything else. I definitely don’t need any of what happened back there. That was my past.”
Camille leaned back, staring up into his face for the first time since he led her to the dance area. The strain of reciting his past was evident in the taut pull of skin over his honed features and in his hooded gaze.
“You say start over, but it sounds like you came here to disappear,” she whispered.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said in return, just as quietly.
She slowly shook her head. “That’s a shame then. You shine too bright to ever disappear.”
If possible, his features sharpened even more, and a tension entered his body, transforming him into a flesh and blood statue. Warmth flooded her face, and she swallowed a groan. God, why had she said that? She should’ve shut up because now he probably thought she was a—hell, she didn’t know what ideas lurked behind that beautiful, cold facade.
“Look, I’m—”
“Thank you,” he said.
The low, rough timbre of those two words rubbed over her skin, vibrated against her chest, affecting her body as much as her heart.
“You’re welcome.”
With her pulse pounding in her ears and at her throat, she brushed the backs of her fingers along his strong jaw and stubborn chin. And when a shudder rippled through his big body, she closed her eyes, absorbing it. Part of her wished she hadn’t noticed it, hadn’t felt it. And the other part... The other part longed to elicit another one from him.
Step back. Walk away. Don’t do anything foolish that you can’t take back.
The warnings filtered through her head, but the desire pumping through her veins muffled them. Even knowing she didn’t return home for this...complication didn’t compel her to back out of his embrace and insert much-needed distance between them.
Because as unwise as that decision was, she stood right where she wanted to be. Her gaze dropped to his beautiful, made-for-all-things-dirty mouth...
The loud swell of applause and whistles rose on the night, shattering the cocoon that had wrapped around them. She blinked, glanced around them. People cheered for the band as they ended their set, not noticing she’d been so close to granting them another show.
“I should...” She cleared her throat, finally shifting backward and away from Erik. Dipping her head, she glanced away from him on the pretense of searching the crowds. “I should get back to everyone. They’re probably wondering where I’ve gone.”
As far as excuses went, hers was pretty lame. But it would do the job, and dammit, she was desperate. Desperate for distance. Desperate to regain control of her rebelling body. Desperate to remember why putting her mouth on him in front of half the town was a bad idea.
“I’ll see you at the shop Monday,” she said.
Not waiting for his response, she walked away from him. Relief should’ve filled her. But it didn’t. Instead, a need to turn around, return to Erik and bury her face against his chest rose inside her like a piercing howl.
That dangerous hunger forced her to walk faster.
CHAPTER FOUR
“AREYOUSUREyou won’t hang?” Jake wrapped an arm around Patrick’s neck, another tattoo artist at Forever Ink.
“Yeah, Camille. It’s just eleven. Too early for bedtime.” Dara, another artist, slid her arm around Jake’s waist and grinned. “Have you been to Road’s End yet?”
Camille shook her head. “Not yet, but I’ve heard about it.”
“And everything you’ve heard is true and probably more,” Jake bragged. “A good friend owns it and not only does it have great beer and a greater game room, he pulled in a band for tonight. So live music. You wouldn’t think li’l Rose Bend would have one of the best dive bars in the Berkshires.”
Laughing, Camille held up her hands, palms out. “You guys are really convincing but I’m going to pass. But next time, I’m in. I promise.”
With some grumbling and good-natured teasing, her coworkers strode off toward the parking lot. Giving her head another shake, she headed in the opposite direction. She’d left her car near the tattoo shop, having headed over to The Glen right after work.
The Glen emptied of people, and she joined the exodus. The chatter and laughter, and some whines from children, surrounded her, and she allowed herself to sink into it. This, too, she’d missed. Living in the city had its advantages—nightlife, easy access to malls, restaurants and other entertainment. But she’d let herself forget about the charm and comfort of small town living. Of community events like this, of calling out to people you knew and walking outside at nearly midnight with little fear.
