“That’s it.” He watches my face, eyes burning. “Come for me, baby. I’ve got you.”
My orgasm crashes through me in waves, my whole body clenching around him. I cry out, and he swallows the sound with a kiss. His hips shake against me, and three more thrusts send him over the edge with me. He groans into my mouth, body shuddering, and I wrap my arms tight around his shoulders.
We collapse together, hearts pounding in tandem. He’s still inside me, and I don’t want him to move. I don’t want this moment to end.
Knight emerges from the bathroom,hair damp from the shower, wearing nothing but low-slung sweatpants. My mouth goes dry all over again.
The man is sinfully hot. I watch him walk across the room, speechless that a man like him wanted to make love with me.
I stop watching him when my eyes land on the canvases stacked along the wall. Canvases I was too distracted to notice earlier.
They’re everywhere. Dozens of them. And every single one features the same subject.
Cats. Kittens with big eyes and crossed paws. The exact style I’ve been obsessing over for months. The exact artist whose design is permanently inked on my skin.
“Knight.” My voice comes out strange. “Those paintings.”
He goes still where he stands by the kitchen.
I walk to the nearest canvas. A kitten with blue eyes stares back at me, paws pressed over its heart. It’s wearing tiny glasses. Librarian glasses.
“Those are...” I turn to face him. “You’re Purrfect Kitten.”
He doesn’t deny it. Just stands there, tension radiating from every line of his body.
The pieces click together. The way he handled my design with such familiarity.My art on you, he said last night. I thought he meant the tattoo in general, not that he was the artist behind Purrfect Kitten.
I press my hand to the half-finished tattoo on my chest.
“You made all of this.” The wonder in my voice surprises even me. I reach under my collar and trace the tattoo. “This isyourdesign! You made this!”
“Daisy—” His voice is so quiet I almost don’t hear him.
His expression softens, and his forehead creases as he looks at me. “I painted it after the woman who fostered me died. She was the only one who ever...” He stops, swallows. “When she was gone, I needed something to hold on to. This is what happened.”
I cross the room in three steps and throw my arms around him.
He catches me, holds me tight, face buried in my hair.
“We need to finish it,” I whisper. “The tattoo. Today.”
He pulls back to look at me. “Today?”
“You need to complete it.” I touch his face, tracing the line of his jaw. “And I need it to be complete.”
He kisses me softly, and my heart expands so much I’m not sure my chest can hold it.
“Okay. Let’s head back to the shop.”
CHAPTER 7
KNIGHT
Ready?”
Daisy sits in my chair, but everything about her is different now. She’s calm. Certain. Wearing a button-down shirt she can open at the collar, her long hair twisted up to keep it out of the way.
King Ink hums with its usual energy. Clancy’s working on a back piece two stations over, classic rock competing with the buzz of his needle. Ford is doing a consultation by the window. The familiar smell of ink and antiseptic hangs in the air.
