I stayed.
Violet watched me with those expressive eyes of hers, her pulse only just settling once I’d slipped into the sheets beside her. She didn’t protest when I pulled her against myside, and I went rigid. But she did immediately try to pull away.
“Don’t,” I whispered, the word strangled as I tried to release the pressure cinching tighter and tighter around my lungs.
The panic threatened to spiral, as did the need to shove away and scrub until it stung. Sex was different. There, I held the power. Always. I decided the position, the pace, even which part of her body I’d take. Every detail was mine to control.
But this… this was affection, and that was completely fucking foreign. Something I’d always considered pointless with the women I fucked.
But Violet was more, so for her, I had to try.
Tangling my slightly shaking fingers into her hair, I brushed through the strands with a tenderness I didn’t know I was capable of. A cuddle, the entire concept alien and yes, it started off a little stiff. I expected her to try and push me away again, or even comment with that wicked tongue of hers.
But she didn’t.
The first time it happened, I’d woken up in the middle of the night with her body curled into mine, my arms wrapped tightly around her. I hadn’t fallen asleep like that; in fact, I’d made sure there was a distinctive space between us.
But somehow, in sleep, my body had reached for hers anyway.
And… I hadn’t… hated it.
In fact, my cock had done a full salute, the hedonistic bastard.
I could see the wheels turning behind her eyes, even as she tried to hide it. “Why black and grey?” she asked, hervoice that throaty post-sex husky that made my cock twitch, readying for round two.
“What?”
“Your tattoos,” she murmured, exhaustion softening her expression. “Why are they all black and grey?”
“I never saw the point of colour. Most of my tattoos weren’t chosen for the art,” I said quietly. “They were chosen to hide the worst scars.”
“I want to paint them,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed.
For a moment I thought she’d fallen asleep, until her fingers brushed my forearm, barely a touch, but I still stiffened before forcing myself to relax.
“Colour would look good on you,” she added quietly. “Something soft… something warm.”
I huffed a laugh despite myself, tightening my arms around her. “Soft and warm isn’t usually my thing.”
“Hmm,” Violet hummed, and I was one hundred percent smug at wearing her out when I knew she struggled to drift off. Her breathing slowed, finally giving into sleep, but I found myself awake, counting the freckles along the bridge of her nose and her shoulders.
This woman was tearing down every wall I’d spent years building, brick by careful brick.
And I was letting her.
I didn’t bother knocking, opening the door to Hendrix’s home office to find Roman standing over the desk.
“Good, you’re still here.” My fist connected with his face before he had the chance to flinch.
Roman didn’t even try to block. He either didn’t expect it or actually allowed me to land the blow. Knowing him, and the fact he fought in the underground rings because he found itfun, it was probably the latter.
“Stay the fuck away from Violet,” I snarled, ignoring the flicker of a smile at the corner of his lips.
“Ostav'te nas.”Roman glanced over my shoulder, and I turned to find Max with his pistol out, pointed straight at my head.
Leave us.
See? My Russian lessons were coming in handy.
