She lifts a shoulder. “I just don’t have an appendix.”
Bella’s brown eyes fix on the ink covering my skin. She purses her lips as she runs her nimble fingers over the bear standing on its hind legs on my thigh, to the snake coiled around my wrist, then the tiger crawling down my shoulder, to the mouse on my chest, and finally, the bullet wound just under her name. She ends on my inner bicep, where I have a mouse wearing a tiara, her signature on any street art we’d do together.
She traces each one she can reach, even the pieces I’ve drawn, like the one of the barn house, the design on her locket, and the trip we did to Yellowstone—which she hated because of how much walking we had to do, but loved because she was stalked by a stray cat for three hours. She called herself a cat mom for a solid month after.
“Do they have meaning?” she whispers as her hand skates over a fox.
“Yes.”
She looks up at me through her lashes. “Why did you get them?”
“So when you look at me, there isn’t an inch of me you don’t like.”
Realization unfolds behind her brown eyes. Everything she’s ever liked is marked on my skin for the rest of my life: her favorite animals, the trips we’ve done, things that matter to her.
Her bottom lip trembles for the briefest moment before she tears her eyes away from the tattoos and to the chain around my neck.
Fingering the pendant, she turns it over, narrowing her eyes to read the date engraved into the silver coin.
“My first day at Woodside Elementary,” I say before she can ask.
She looks at me in question.
“The first time we met.”
Her lips form into an ‘O,’ and she slowly settles back against my chest so I can’t see her, stiff with tension. Did I do something wrong? I’m pretty sure I didn’t say anything to piss her off.
I turn her around and settle her between my legs. “While I was in prison, I also learned how to play guitar,” I add, to lighten the mood.
“Oh, really?” There’s an air of disinterest in her response. Seriously, what did I do wrong now?
“Yeah,” I say coolly. “I can play Mary Had a Little Lamb with my eyes closed.”
Her chuckle is half-hearted at best.
Fuck it, we’re going in for the kill. What’s she going to do? Get madder? That’s fine. She’s still stuck with me.
Grabbing a cloth, I say, “Oh, that’s right, how silly of me.”
“Huh?”
“I missed a spot.” She all but lurches out of the bathtub when I gently press the cloth against her pussy. Squealing, she tries to push my arms away, but she isn’t sure which one to focus on; the one squeezing her nipple or the one getting nice and thorough with the cleaning.
She clamps down around my fingers, making me groan. “Settle down. You don’t want to get me excited.”
“Mickey,” she gasps. “I’m serious! I need a break.”
“I’m not doing anything.” I chuckle as she bucks her hips, practically grinding her ass against me as I slowly move my fingers in and out of her. “What type of person would that make me if I didn’t make sure you’re squeaky clean?”
Bella whimpers and digs her nails into my wrist, but she’s hardly trying to push me away. Ribbons of red are drawn all over my arms and chest. If I wasn't already tattooed, I’d get her claw marks permanently etched into my skin.
“Oh, I think I missed another spot.” I curl my fingers, and she moans—God, I can’t get enough of that sound—pushing farther back against my cock. I may potentially die from blue balls, but it’ll be worth it if I can feel her choke my fingers.
I twist her nipple between my fingers, watching how her chest rises and falls and the outline of her sweet pussy through the rippling water.
“Mickey.” She draws out my name on a whimper when I thumb her clit.
“I’ll be gentle. I promise.”
She trembles. “I’m sensitive.”
“Then tell me to stop.” Other than her hiccupping moans, she doesn’t make a sound. “That’s it. You like it, don’t you? It feels too good. Do you know why, Bella? Do you know why your cunt isn’t letting me go?”
I tip her head up by her chin and brush my lips against hers, smiling when she leans forward to chase my touch.
“Your body is made for me. It knows only I can give you what it wants—what it craves. You belong to me. All of you. And you know what the best part is?”
She stares up at me with heavy lids without responding.
“Answer me,” I growl, plunging into her faster.
“No,” she pants, gripping onto my arms.
A smile drags across my lips, eliciting a glimmer of fear in her eyes. “You’re going to come on my fingers because I fucking say you will.”
I don’t give her a chance to argue before I pinch her nipples and latch my mouth onto the soft skin of her neck. She cries out, tightening around my fingers as I increase my speed, keeping them curled and my thumb on her clit.
Bella releases a beautiful, guttural cry as her entire body spasms against me. But I don’t stop fucking her with my fingers—not until she’s screaming and pushing away my hand like I might kill her if I keep going.
My balls are so tight that it’s painful, but I try to keep distracted by massaging out her muscles even though she’s practically shattered against me.
Fuck, for the first time in years, I feel like I can finally relax. I’m out of prison, Bella is in my arms—reluctantly, but she’ll be volunteering soon enough—we’ve got a house, food, and nothing but time on our hands.
“We should get out before we prune,” Bella says, pulling away from me.
“In a second.” I draw her back, even though the water is going cold.
“But I want—never mind,” she finishes with a whisper.
“You do mind. Tell me what you want.”
“I’m hungry.”
Well, that’s enough to convince me to get out. Come to think of it, I’m starving, too. “Okay,” I say, slowly releasing her, even though I really don’t want to.
I help her out of the tub and let her get dressed herself, because I’ll jump her if I have to look at her naked again. She locks herself away in our room while I fix our late lunch, and pop a packet of Plan B next to a glass of water—I’m down for kids, but after three years without Bella, I’d rather have her undivided attention.
As I put food on the bench, movement catches my attention from outside the window. My senses kick into overdrive. Keeping my steps light, I creep toward the coat hooks next to the front door and grab the gun from my jacket.
Walking past window after window, no one comes into view. Then I see him, some brawny fucker who looks like he could crush my head with his bare hands. White-hot rage burns through me when I realize he’s heading toward the bedroom.
I don’t think twice before sprinting to Bella. The door swings open, and she jolts back with a gasp, crossing her arms over her bare chest. “What—”
Her words die when I clamp my hand over her mouth and drag her back into the bathroom. She kicks her legs out and the start of a scream vibrates against my skin.
“Someone’s here,” I whisper. As I push her down into the corner, she freezes like a deer caught in headlights. “I need you to stay very silent for me, okay?”
Removing my hand, she nods.
“You don’t move from this spot, no matter what you hear.”
Her breath comes out in ragged bursts as she bobs her head up and down.
“There’s a knife hidden in the second drawer.” I nod to the vanity and rush onto the porch, gun ready.
My pulse hammers away, roaring in my ears. This asshole must have a fucking death wish coming around here when Bella is in the house. The cold air stings my bare chest, and the ground is no less vicious on my feet as I stalk to the back of the house.