“Wow,” Jasmine states.
“That’s gorgeous,” Haven says.
“Who drew this for you?” Emilee asks, taking the framed picture from my hands.
My heart beats wildly in my chest. “I did.”
“Cross is a tattoo artist,” Grave tells me.
“He is?” My eyes widen while I straddle him, naked. We haven’t left my house all weekend. After our dinner, we came back here. You know when you sleep with a guy for the first time, and it can be awkward afterward? Like, is he going to leave on his own? Or will I have to go crazy on his ass, so I don’t have to put up with him again? It’s not like that with Grave. Not only is the guy hot and great in bed, but he also has this relaxed vibe about him. Just a go-with-the-flow type of personality. And I like it. He’s easy to talk to, and he seems truly interested in what I have to say.
He nods. “Yep. He has a shop inside of Kingdom. If you were to draw him what you want, he’ll do it for you.”
“That would be so cool.”
His hand goes behind my neck and pulls my chest down to his. “It would be,” he whispers against my lips.
“Will you help me?” I ask, lifting my hips to reach between our bodies.
He groans when my hand wraps around the base of his cock. “Whatever you need,” he promises. His right hand finds its way into my already tangled hair.
“Help me decide what tattoo to put where?” I arch a brow. I wasn’t lying to him. I’ve always wanted a tattoo. But you hear how addictive they are, and I was afraid that once I started, I’d never stop. I love all of his. How free he must feel to express himself with such beautiful art.
That’s why I paint on vases—to express feelings. Wants. Needs. My thoughts. It’s like cleansing the soul. I want to know that feeling.
“Absolutely.” He licks his lips.
I sit up and release his dick.
His arms fall to his sides, and he lets out a growl of frustration.
“Let’s do it. Right now.” I make a move to jump off the bed, but he grabs my arm and yanks me down onto my back. His hands push mine above my head while he straddles me.
“First, I’m going to fuck you.” He gives me a grin, and his eyes drop to my chest. “I need to learn your body before we draw it.”
I laugh. “You should know it by now.”
I blink at my drawing. A self-portrait I painted on a white canvas I had in my spare art room in my house. It’s got my purple hair and a full face of makeup. I recreated how I always wear it—black eyeliner, lips matching my hair, and my septum piercing glinting beneath my nose.
Ink covers my neck, detailed with multiple colors of pink, blue, and purple petals. I drew myself topless, but have my armscrossed over my chest to cover my breasts, pushing them up in the process. Vines the color of night wrap around my arms, creeping up to my shoulders. Red roses cover my upper chest. They look like they’re floating on top of a crystal blue lake.
“I love that,” Grave says standing behind me, wrapping his arms around my chest.
I tilt my head, looking at the canvas. I just started drawing random things on my skin since I had my portrait painted. “I think it’s too much. The water looks out of place.”
“No,” he disagrees. “They match your eyes perfectly.”
The water fades at the end of the canvas. I chose to only paint above my crossed arms, but something covers every inch of the skin I show.
“He kept it,” I whisper, my throat closing. I haven’t looked at it since I drew it over a month ago. “How did he…?”
“Who?” Jasmine asks.
I would never have the balls to go through with the tattoos. That’s why we did this.
“So you know what you’d look like if you ever decided to wear your own art,”he had said.
Tears sting my eyes. “Grave.” I swallow. “I drew this with Grave. He must have taken it with him and framed it.”
