On and on we keep drawing pictures of each other. Each time I want to make her laugh more because I love the sound and it makes me feel amazing that I’m the one making her sound so happy. We draw each other for two hours before she tosses her pencil to the table and says, “I’m done. I won.”

For some reason, I don’t argue with her.

“It’s getting late.” Bee stands and stretches, her shirt lifting to show her flat stomach and belly button piercing. My fingers itch to play with it.

Instead, I stand too. “You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Before I finish getting all the words out, she’s already shaking her head. “No. That’s not fair.”

“And I don’t work that way. You’re not sleeping on the couch while I sleep in a bed.” I’m used to sleeping on couches anyway. After Dad went to prison, I didn’t have my own room anymore. Mom got pissed but I always gave the extra bedroom to Laney.

“I can go home—”

“No. It’s late. You’re here.” My pulse is speeding.

“Then we’ll share the bed. I can handle keeping my hands to myself. Can you?”

No. “Yes.”

She’s right behind me as I turn everything off. I could be a gentleman. Maybe I fucking should but the thought of being next to someone like that, the thought of being next to her, fills me up a little when I’ve been used to being empty for so long.

My stomach is in knots, but I ignore it. I show Bee the bathroom and give her a pair of my sweats and a T-shirt. She lets me in the bathroom first to clean up and then she goes in. I’m in my room when she steps in. My clothes drown her, but my cock instantly gets hard. There’s something sexy as hell about seeing a woman in your clothes. I want to savor it and strip her out of them at the same time.

“It’s not much,” finds its way out of my mouth even though it has nothing to do with how gorgeous she looks. “My room.”

It smells slightly of cigarettes. There’s no headboard on the bed, just a queen mattress, dresser, side table, and more art stuff.

“Who said something has to be extravagant to be something?”

There’s this strange thump in my chest and this urge to grab her and pull her to me that has nothing to do with how beautiful she is. I want to hold her and I’ve never wanted to fucking hold anyone in my life.

Speak, say something. Like they so often are, my words are lost, so Bee fills the space with hers.

Her eyes dart around, suddenly looking a little insecure. You wouldn’t be able to tell by the sound of her voice, which doesn’t waiver as she speaks. “On my ninth birthday, Rex and Melody forgot. They were both busy working on a painting. I knew it wasn’t because they didn’t care. They were just like that sometimes. They got in the zone and everything else left their heads. To make it up to me, Melody made really shitty chocolate chip cookies and we put up a tent in the backyard. The cookies were so bad we built a fire and made s’mores and looked at the stars all night. It was so simple, Maddox, but it was perfect.”

Simple. Perfect. That’s what I want. Not to stress about shit or have my mom try to kill herself or my sister who’s always been so emotional. I love her but it’s hard, so fucking hard when I’m the only one to deal with it, especially when I know it’s my fault.

Suddenly, I really wish I could see those stars on her side again. Wish I could make s’mores with her and sit outside all night. “Who are Rex and Melody?”

Bee shakes her head. “Not tonight. Maybe… I don’t know but not tonight. Okay?”

I nod and walk over to my bed. “I get it. I’ll never push you to talk.” And then I pull the blanket back. Bee crawls into my bed. My bed. After pulling off my T-shirt, I toss it to the floor.

“Did you clean your piercing?”

“Yes.” The light flickers out with the push of a button and then I am in my bed with a woman. With Bee, in nothing except a pair of sweats, knowing I’ll stay in them.

We’re both quiet in the dark for what feels like forever.

“It feels good… to have someone,” she whispers. “Someone who doesn’t push or expect me to be anyone I’m not. Just Bee…”

Without replying, I reach for her and pull her against me. My arm around her waist as the back of her molds to the front of me. She tenses for a second before it melts away.

Bee lets me hold her all night, and I don’t let go.

Chapter Nineteen ~Bee~

It’s been almost a week since I woke up in Maddox’s bed. Since I woke up in his arms after talking to him about Rex and Melody and telling him my name.

Even though those things are small in some ways, I still can’t believe I told him.

And he hasn’t brought it up since. I’m not sure what I would do if he did. Probably be a bitch because that’s easy for me. But he hasn’t and I wish I could thank him for it—wish I would have the next day when we got up, got dressed, and he drove me to Masquerade like nothing happened.

Nothing did happen, I remind myself. It feels like it did and that has me slightly stressed out.

Glancing toward my computer, I look at the time. My next tattoo will be here in ten minutes, so I pull out a piece of paper and start the sketch. It’s nothing big, just a name, so it doesn’t take me long to come up with a couple ideas while I’m waiting for the girl to show.

A couple minutes later, a girl with short black hair walks in. “Hi. We spoke last week. I have an appointment for a tattoo.” She smiles at me.

“Yep. I have a few ideas here if you want to check them out. I’m not sure exactly what kind of look you’re going for.” She walks over to my desk and looks down. There are a couple aspects of two designs she likes, so after we chat for a minute, I put together another quick drawing for her.

“You can have a seat.” I nod toward the chair. “Maddox will set everything up for us…” My feet plant in place on my way to the sink as my words die off. Maddox won’t be doing anything for us today because he’s not here. Goose bumps pebble across my arms. I wanted nothing more than Masquerade to be only mine, and now my brain is automatically going to Maddox being here to help me like working with him is something I’ve always done.

The bumps spread up my neck but I fight to ignore them. It’s a slipup, that’s all.

“Scratch that. I’m setting up. I forgot he’s not here today.” I hand the girl the release and get a copy of her ID. After things are signed and taken care of, I lay the drawing on her ankle so the ink transfers to her skin.

“Right here?” Scooting back, I nod at her leg.

“Perfect.”

The rest of the routine happens as easily as breathing: getting the ink, washing my hands, paper towels, Vaseline, putting together the gun, opening a new needle, gloves. And then I rub Vaseline on her and it’s needle to skin. She gives a small jump at first, then relaxes comfortably.

“Is this your first ink?” The needle skates a line. Her skin is easy, like butter. It’s perfect for tattooing.

“Yeah. I’ve always wanted a tattoo, though.”

“Whose name is it?” Glancing up at her, I see her cheeks go pink.

“You don’t want to know.”

Which means it’s a boyfriend. I smile as I continue concentrating on what I’m doing. “Don’t let anyone give you shit. Some people are like that no matter what your tattoo is of. You might regret it one day, and you might not, but at this point in time it’s important to you. Even if that changes, this will be a memory. If he turns out to be an asshole, it will be your reminder about the kind of guy you don’t want or if you stay together, then there’s the obvious there.” After pulling the gun from her skin, I wipe her leg, dip in my ink, and then rub more Vaseline on her before starting again. “And if you want it gone, it’s not like we can’t come up with something kick-ass to cover it up.” I wink at her and she looks relieved.