I would be silly not to.
Arlo is cracking his knuckles from the seat next to me as the man tattoos Delaney’s name onto my skin. I reach over and grip his hand to make him stop, and he looks down as if he just now realized he was doing it.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I don’t like another man touching you,” he grumbles.
The tattooist pauses and quickly glances up at Arlo, but I give him a reassuring smile, and with a head nod from Arlo, he bends back to his work.
“That’s a red flag, you know,” I say, and he grips my hand in his.
“We can go to Six Flags, and I can show you them all,” he replies sarcastically, making me laugh. And when I do, he smiles at me.
“Do you have any tattoos?” I ask him. “I mean, I’ve seen you naked, but maybe I missed them?”
“No,” he says, then adds, “But I plan to change that once yours is done.”
When my ink is complete and I stand to look in the mirror, he takes my seat. I stare down at Delaney’s name on my arm, a permanent reminder that she is always with me, even if she’s not here physically.
When I turn back, I see Arlo pulling down his bottom lip. I’m confused at first until the tattooist lifts the gun and begins a freehand tattoo on the inside of Arlo’s lip. Curious, I step closer. It doesn’t take long for him to finish, and when he rolls back on his stool, I see one word inked there.
Hers.
Arlo wipes his mouth and then turns to face me.
“Did it hurt?”
“No, surprisingly not.” He stands and pays the tattooist before we leave.
“What does it mean?” I ask, nervous excitement vibrating through me.
“Yours” is all he says in response. I’m so stunned by his words that, without thinking, I grab him by his collar, take him around the corner of the tattoo shop, and lean in to kiss his neck. He lets me, and his mouth finds mine as I push him against the brick wall and start to grind myself on him. He takes that invitation as all he needs, lifting me and slamming my back against the wall. The skirt I was wearing bunches up, and I try but fail to reach between us so I can feel him. Instead, he knows exactly what I am doing, and I hear the sound of his zipper as he continues to kiss my neck before I feel him pull my underwear to the side, and he slams straight into me.
Relief floods through me, hard and long, filling every fiber of my being.
I love this man with every part of me.
And he loves me.
Arlo is what I have been chasing to feed my naughty ways, and I didn’t even know it.
But he knew it.
He slams into me as his mouth devours mine, and I have to remember not to bite his bottom lip as he fucks me up against the brick wall, which is scraping against my back.
But fuck, it’s hard not to do.
My nails dig into his back through his clothes as we both come hard and fast, neither of us able to catch our breath as our lips stay connected.
“And you didn’t even need the beads.” I joke.
And with those words, he pulls back and winks at me.
FORTY-SIX
ARLO
It’s been close to four weeks since we buried Delaney, and I haven’t had the urge to wrap anything around my hands since then. I think it’s because my mind is so preoccupied with a certain woman who constantly fills my thoughts. I literally can’t get enough of her, and I’m pretty sure she feels the same way about me.
