Page 53 of Ink

I jerk back as if he struck me.

“I’m sorry,” Ink blows out a gush of air between his lips as he runs a hand roughly through his hair.

When I first met him, I was so sure that he styled it in a million different directions on purpose to bring the whole bad boy look he has going on together, but nope. I’m now convinced it’s from him touching it whenever he feels any sort of emotion. If you pay close enough attention, you can tell this man wears his heart on his sleeve.

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to lose it like that. I’ll check it.”

“I’m fine,” I assure.

And I was.

This is the first time I’ve told someone what’s happened to me outside of my dad. I’m starting to realize there’s a huge difference between an outburst at you and an outburst for you. I don’t think Ink would ever intentionally hurt me.

Ink slides his arm underneath my shoulders and pulls me to him until I’m flush against his side. I have no choice but to rest my head against his chest. It’s hard, but I’ve never felt more comfortable in my life. I can’t help but notice how perfectly we fit together, like I was meant to be in this exact spot.

This isn’t romantic though, and I need to remember that. Ink’s just a good guy and that’s what they do.

“Did your dad know about the burns?” he asks, breaking the silence we had settled into.

“Yeah,” I admit, my voice just above a whisper. “The music stopped.”

Ink squeezes me to him in the way all the guys in the movies do. “Party’s winding down. It’s almost four in the mornin’.”

A long yawn escapes me. I’m so freaking tired. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this exhausted. I feel it in my bones. My eyes slowly open and close as I start to fade out. The faint sound of people coming upstairs and doors shutting can be heard in the distance.

Just as I’m drifting off, cool lips press against my forehead. “Sleep, bunny. I’ll take it from here.”

Chapter

Twenty

SUTTON

Iwake up a few hours later feeling like death.

There’s no other way to describe it. If I didn’t have to start my life over again, I would sleep for the next three days. Ink’s bed is surprisingly comfortable. The mattress just kind of contorts to your body in the softest way. And not in a ‘it’s twenty years old and no longer has any support’ type of way.

The spot Ink was in on the bed before I was dead to the world is now empty. Rolling over, I can feel that it’s still warm. Sticking my nose into his pillow, I take a deep inhale. I can’t help but snuggle in a little deeper, basking in the tobacco vanilla scent.

I hear a toilet flush seconds before the bathroom door opens and a shirtless Ink comes strutting through. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. The beautiful swirls of ink cover his entire chest and abdomen. A skull with a helmet and the words Dirty Devils directly underneath that expands across his chest is staring back me, just begging to be traced.

I’ve never seen a man with so many tattoos before. Zach didn’t have any, and obviously, I don’t either. Everything about Ink’s life was beneath Zach. It’s kind of ironic that I left a version of hell where Zach is my devil to end up in my own version of paradise with a devil that will pick me up off the floor when I’m at my worst.

All devils aren’t created equal.

“Sleep good?” Ink asks. The smirk toying at the corner of his lips tells me that he knows I was staring.

Busted.

The familiar heat returns to my cheeks. “Yeah. I feel like I could sleep for days.”

“So sleep.” He says it as if it’s the most obvious solution in the world. “I told you that you’re safe here.”

My heart warms at him, thinking that’s why I’m not sleeping more. He wouldn’t have to tell me that. It’s blatantly obvious Ink isn’t the type of man that would let a random person storm into his space. Shop or this place.

“I have too much I need to do to just lie in bed all day.”

“Told you I’ll talk to Evan about a place for you to stay. What else is there?”