I should say something. I should ask him what this is, what he wants, but I already know.
He brushes a strand of hair from my face, slow and deliberate. His fingers trail down, grazing my jaw, and I shiver.
“I brought you home,” he murmurs, “because you belong here. Because I wanted you to see the parts of me no one else gets to.”
“I think I’ve always seen those parts,” I whisper back.
His hand slips around the back of my neck, drawing me in. “Then tell me you want this.”
“I want this.”
I close the rest of the space and kiss him. It’s not soft. It’s not tentative. It’s years of silence and longing, compressed into a moment that crackles like a live wire. He kisses like he’s making up for lost time, like he’s staking a claim and apologizing in the same breath. One hand fists the back of my shirt like he’s scared I’ll run. The other cups my cheek with surprising gentleness.
I press closer, gasping when his mouth drags along my neck, heat blooming under my skin. He exhales hard, forcing himself to pull back, both of us trying to slow down and failing.
He retreats just enough to look at me. My hands grip his wrists, not wanting to let him go, but the feel of leather under my fingers draws my gaze.
I gasp. “You still have it?”
“Of course I do,” he says quietly. Almost shyly, which is strange. Nik was never unsure.
On his wrist is the braided leather bracelet I gave him for Christmas all those years ago. It’s faded and a little scuffed, but it’s the same one. The sight of it makes my eyes sting.
“You good?” he asks, voice low and gravel-edged.
I nod, my voice hoarse. “Better than good.”
He smirks, thumb brushing my bottom lip. “Then we should stop before we end up naked on the workshop floor.”
I laugh, breathless. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Nothing about that would be bad,” he says, kissing me again, slower this time. Then, he pulls me against his chest, arms wrapped tight around me.
We stay like that for a minute, letting everything settle.
Axel whistles from the doorway. “Hope I’m not interrupting the foreplay.”
I flush.
Nik doesn’t even spare him a glance. “You are,” he says flatly.
Axel grins, showing off those damn dimples that I used to love. Still love.
“Good. Because we’ve got things to show our girl.”
∞∞∞
The rest of the morning is slower. Easier. Nik shows me around the space properly. Tools, blueprints, and sketches are tacked to the walls. Their apartment above the workshop is quiet and masculine. Clean, but lived in. I can see pieces of both of them here. Nik’s precision. Axel’s chaos.
They take turns telling stories about the places they’ve been, the trouble they’ve caused, and the things they’ve built. It’s both fascinating and devastating. Hearing about the last eight years and not having been a part of it... it’s impossible not to wonder what might’ve been if I never had to run.
A few hours later, Axel drives us downtown. The energy shifts again, becoming louder and looser as we pull up to anarrow brick storefront with blacked-out windows and glowing neon signage.
He throws an arm around my shoulder. “Welcome to my kingdom.”
I raise a brow. “You’re a tattoo artist now?”
“Damn right I am,” he says proudly.
