They’re not large droplets, just small specs that dot my arm and shoulder, but they turn the paper towel pink as he scrubs it over my skin.
There’s blood on my shirt too, and I lift my arms willingly as Marcus tugs it off over my head. He lets it fall to the floor before rubbing the paper towel over my neck and shoulder. He drops it into the sink when he’s finished, but his gaze keeps roaming over me, his fingertips tracing the same paths the paper towel just traveled.
His focus switches from my good arm to my damaged one, and I shiver pleasurably as he follows the outline of the red flowers.
“It’s so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs. “Just like you are.” His gaze flashes up to mine before returning to my truncated limb, and he lifts it a little so he can examine the full tattoo. “I was there when you got it. Every single session. I could tell some parts hurt more than others, but you never told him to stop.”
I blink at him, my heart skipping a beat in my chest.
Things have changed so radically between us since Marcus and his brothers first exploded back into my life. Sometimes I forget how long they watched me, how many months they spent hovering at the periphery of my life like dark, ruthless angels.
And sometimes I forget that I didn’t know they were there.
When I look back on those times, it’s hard not to feel them watching over me, to feel their presence in my life as if they were a part of it all along. As if I knew them, even before I knew them.
I catch Marcus’s hand as it traces the ink on my damaged arm, and he looks up from his examination of my tattoo. His hand is large and calloused, and I interlace my fingers with his, brushing my thumb over the finger that pulled the trigger.
“Marcus?” I whisper.
“Yeah, angel?”
“Will Luca be pissed?”
“Yes.”
His answer is honest and simple. There’s no fear in his voice though. Not a hint of regret.
“Marcus.” I repeat his name, but it’s not a question this time.
It’s a call.
An invocation.
His gaze flicks up from our joined hands to my face, and he takes a step closer to me. “Yeah, angel?”
“I love you.”
Something shifts in his face, and his smile is fucking breathtaking. It’s like his features have been half in shadow ever since I met him, and now I’m looking at them in full light, seeing every single detail clearly.
Seeing all of him.
I remember thinking once that the word “love” wasn’t enough to contain everything I feel for this man and the two friends he calls his brothers. But it turns out the word can grow to fit the need, because as soon as I say it, I realize it is enough.
I love Marcus Constantine.
The truth is both as simple and as complex as that.
“Angel?” he murmurs, still beaming that heart-stopping smile at me.
“Yeah?”
“I fuckin’ love you too.”
Then his arms slide around my back, hauling me toward him as his lips crash down on mine.
This kiss is everything all at once.
It’s tender.
It’s fierce.
It’s possessive.
It’s sweet.
It makes my knees go weak, but that hardly matters, because Marcus is holding me so tightly that I don’t need to stand on my own. He half walks and half carries me backward, and when my ass bumps against the kitchen island, he lifts me onto it as if I weigh nothing.
He already got my shirt off, and he growls hungrily into my mouth as he skims his hands over my bare skin, shoving my bra cups up so he can squeeze my breasts, kneading them and tugging at my nipples.
Little zings of sensation shoot through my body with every pull, and I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him closer.
The numbness in my body from earlier, the fear of being touched, feels like a distant memory right now. So much has happened that it’s hard to believe it’s only been hours since Theo found me pressed against the wall upstairs and not weeks.
“I love you, angel,” Marcus repeats, murmuring the words against my skin as he pulls away from my mouth and begins to trail his lips down the line of my throat.
I tilt my head back, my eyelids drooping as he bites the tender skin over my collarbone then licks away the sting. He continues down between my breasts, reaching behind me to unhook the clasp before drawing it off my arms and tossing it carelessly away. His hands are rough as he massages my breasts, smashing them together so he can draw both nipples into his mouth at once.
The overload of sensation makes me gasp, and he growls softly, releasing my tender, swollen flesh and pressing kisses down my abdomen as he moves lower. I’m squirming on the counter now, my clit throbbing as my body anticipates where he’s headed, desperate to feel him there.
When he reaches my jeans, he pops the button and draws the zipper down, and I shift my weight to help him pull the material over my hips and off my legs. They disappear to wherever my bra went, and Marcus’s eyes burn with hunger as he grips my thighs in both hands, sliding his large palms over my delicate flesh.
Cool air hits my clothed pussy when he spreads my legs wide, making me viscerally aware of just how wet my panties are. Marcus’s gaze drops to the apex of my thighs, and he groans.
“I have to taste you. Fuck, I’m addicted to you.”
He throws my legs over his shoulders, dropping his head to bury his face between my thighs. His hot mouth latches onto the fabric of my panties
