Page 240 of Vicious Temptation

“You shouldn’t.”

She’s smiling when the first tear rolls down her cheek. I wipe it away with my thumb, and her attention returns to the photograph resting in my lap. Picking it up, she runs a finger along the edge.

“I hated this picture for a while,” she admits. “Not because I was ashamed, but because everyone else got to take it and turn it into whatever they wanted. People who didn’t know me looked at one picture and decided who I was.”

I know. I read enough of their comments to want to hunt down half the fucking city.

“But you...” Her attention returns to my neck. “You look at it and think of us.”

“Every fucking time.”

She wipes beneath her eye and gives a watery laugh. “God, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I really fucking don’t.” She cups my face and kisses me. There’s none of our usual teasing as her mouth moves slowly against mine and her hands cradle my face. When she pulls away, she stays close, resting her forehead against mine.

“That night was a mess,” she whispers. “My arrest. That picture. Everything that came after.”

“I know.”

“But you were the one good thing in the middle of it.”

I want so badly to deserve that.

She glances at the tattoo once more and shakes her head with another disbelieving laugh. “You’re going to have my mugshot number on your neck when you’re eighty.”

“Hopefully, you’ll still be around to explain it to people.”

Her laughter fades, and for a second, I wonder if I went too far. But then she climbs onto my lap and wraps her arms around my shoulders, careful to avoid the fresh ink.

“I better be.”

Those three simple words leave me without a damn thing to say.

I squeeze her, and she buries her face against me, holding me so close that I feel each breath she takes.

“You should have told me,” she murmurs after a while. “I would’ve tried to talk you out of it.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t.”

“What if you wake up tomorrow and regret it?”

I slide my hand along the side of her neck. “A lot of things can happen tomorrow, chama, but regretting this won’t be one of them.”

She searches my face for any sign that I don’t mean it. She won’t find one.

“There’s one more thing.”

“Look, my juvie records are sealed. No more mugshots for you.”

I laugh. “That’s disappointing. I was thinking about starting a collection.”

“You get one, stalker.” Her smile lingers as I run my hand along her back, trying to figure out how to ask for something I’ve spent the last few days convincing myself I’m ready to do.

“I’m flying to Miami.”

“Miami?”