“Why do you care?” I ask roughly.
I don’t usually take off my clothes around the recruits. The girls always make a fuss about it, and I don’t like the drama. It’s why I train alone during the morning. She must have seen it the day she crashed my session and demanded to see her sister.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she says with a frown. “I’m not talking to you anymore!”
True to her word, she keeps quiet. I let out a deep sigh before I respond, against my will.
“I was sixteen.”
“Which one was your first?” she asks.
We’ve reached her bedroom in Block A. I hesitate just outside her door. She’s drunk. What if she falls off her bed and hits her head? Or slips on the way to the bathroom.
I can’t risk it. I have to look after her.
I spin on my heels and turn towards the opposite wing where my bedroom lies. I unlock the door with my thumbprint, eye scan, and then type in the numerical access code after. It’s the most secure room in the building. Nothing will hurt her here.
“Can I see your first tattoo?” Her fingers trace my neck. Whisper-soft and maddening. “Please.”
I set her gently on the bed.
“You’re tired,” I say. “Go to sleep.”
“I want to see it.” Haven pouts. “Right now!”
She’s a stubborn little thing. I’m not sure why I find her demanding tone so amusing. Anyone else, and I would have cut their tongue out for the disrespect.
“Will you sleep if I show you?”
“Yes,” she says, nodding with ridiculous enthusiasm.
I wonder, briefly, if bringing her here is a mistake. I’ve never brought anyone to my room. She sits on the corner of my bed, kicking her feet and staring at me with her big, moss-green eyes. Something in my chest lurches at the sight. I like her here, in my space, far more than I care to admit.
I unbutton my shirt slowly, giving in to her demands. Haven straightens, her eyes following my hands with unguarded interest.
My breath leaves me in a sharp exhale. She likes this.
“Don’t look at me like that, Warrick,” I say roughly.
“Why not?” she whispers.
“Because I only have so much self-control.”
I pull my shirt off my shoulder, then unbuckle my trousers just enough for her to see. The room is dim, forcing me to come closer so she can look. She leans forward, bracing her fingers onmy hip to keep steady, staring in fascination at the word inked on my waistline in a small, crooked font.
Her breath stutters. The silence elongates.
Then she laughs.
She falls back against the mattress, laughing so hard that tears streak down her cheekbones.
“Youcannotbe serious,” she says between gasping breaths.
“It was the aftermath of a dare,” I reply flatly. “One I lost to Knox, of course.”
Years ago, I lost a stupid dare, before Spider began to indulge Knox’s silly games. The outcome resulted in me being forced to get the words ‘suck me’ inked just above my pelvis.
She pushes herself upright.
