His gaze locked with mine. “I needed that reminder a lot.”
“And this…”
“Not all those who wander are lost.”
“And this…”
“Turn the pain into power.”
My fingers trembled. “Dane…”
“There’s more,” he said. “If you want to see.”
“I want everything.”
He rolled onto his back, pulling me with him. My thigh slid across his hip, settling me exactly where he wanted me. His hands held my waist, strong and reverent, as if touching me was a prayer.
“Here,” he whispered, guiding my hand to the tattoo along his ribs on the other side. “In Italian. Insanity.”
I let out a breath that wasn’t really a laugh, more an exhale that cracked open the softer parts of me. “Why?”
“Because my life has been everything but calm.” His hand stroked the inside of my thigh. “And somehow… you’ve always been the quiet in it. Even when we were kids.”
My heart paused. Stopped. Restarted with a stutter.
“Dane…”
He shook his head gently, like he already knew I wasn’t ready to hear the rest of that sentence.
But the memories… God, they fluttered like trapped birds behind my ribs. Soft flashes. Schoolyard laughter. Rain. A boy with dark eyes who always sat near me. A boy who watched. A boy who protected.
“I’m remembering things,” I whispered. “Small things. Fragments.”
“Take your time,” he said, thumb brushing the curve of my hip. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The quiet between us thickened.
Slow.
Charged.
Alive.
I lowered my mouth to the tattoo along his ribs—her chaos, never silence her storm—and kissed it. Light. Barely there. A vow disguised as breath.
His jaw clenched.
“Peach.”
I kissed it again, slower.
He sucked in a shaky breath. “You keep doing that, and every good intention I have is going to die right here.”
“Maybe I want them to die.”
His hands tightened on my hips. I felt him growing hard beneath me.
Heat.
