“They’re not gang tattoos.”
“Club tattoos, whatever you want to call it.” I raised my eyebrows and wiggled my fingers in the sliver of space between our bodies. “Show me the goods.”
His laugh took the edge off his word. “Luna—”
“I’m being serious,” I told him carefully. “I don’t care.” I held my hand out for him and opened and closed it to get him to come closer to me. “None of us are who we used to be, and luckily for you, I think you’re the hottest man on the entire planet, and that’s with me only seeing you fully clothed.” I smiled. “Show me.”
Rip watched me with those heavy eyes, and the breath he took in and then out was deep and rough.
I recognized the uncertain expression that made the lines at his eyes deepen, and it made my heart clench up again.
I loved this man. I had loved this man for a long time, but I had never loved him more than I did right in that moment as he stood there, with dread in his eyes. Because he was worried what I would think.
“Come here,” I said again, smiling.
The tiny little breath he took in through his nose just made me love him even more.
So I gestured him toward me again. “I don’t think I ever told you about how many times I stole things from the grocery store or from people’s wallets.”
This huge man blinked. “You?” he asked, but it sounded more like he didn’t believe me.
And that only made me smile wider as I nodded. “Yeah, me. If it was small enough for me to hide it in my hoodie pocket, I was taking it. I was hungry, and I didn’t want to spend my money when I started to run out,” I explained, not struggling at all to remember what that Luna had felt when I’d gotten to the last of my money.
“I stole all kinds of things before that too. Usually candy from the convenience store since no one ever took me to the store or anything like that. And when I could take money from my parents, I’d go back and give the owner money. I’m pretty sure that old man knew exactly what I was doing, but he never called me out on it or called the police on me.”
Ripley took a step forward as his fingers dropped away from the collar of his shirt. “They never got you candy?”
I shook my head. “I used to make my own birthday cakes.” I shrugged. “After I stole the cake mixes from the grocery store. My dad loved milk and eggs, so there was always some at the house. He’d always give me money for that.” I blinked. “He’d ask for his receipt and make sure I brought every penny back.”
This man took another step closer to me. “February thirteenth, yeah?”
He was asking me for my birthday, and the fact that he even knew what day my birthday was…. “Yeah.”
He took another step forward. “I’ve got you from now on.”
“For birthday cakes?” I asked, hoping that I didn’t sound as… hopeful as I was sure I did.
“Yeah.” He took another step. “I’ll make you that red velvet cake you like.”
“Okay.” I smiled. “Now let me see what you’ve got since you know you’re not the only one who’s done some shady things.”
He took another step closer, another step that got him to stop directly in front of me, his fingers coming up to nudge me under the chin. “You are a shady shit under there, aren’t you?”
“When I’ve needed to.”
His finger traced along the line of my jaw up to my ear, and his voice was low as he said, “Yeah, I noticed when you had me break your cousin’s hand. I’m not gonna lie, Luna, I was ready to kill his ass, but I was too busy thinking about how you kicking his ass and throwing that fucking shoe like a ninja star was the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Reaching forward, I pressed my fingertips against the band along the top of his jeans where the belt loops went. “You still like me even after that?”
His smile was gentle. “You could steal the Mona Lisa, and I know you’d do it for a good reason. I don’t think there’s anything you could do that I wouldn’t be all about, baby girl.”
I laughed, and that just made him smile wider and drag his finger the opposite direction of my jaw, his thumb just lightly brushing the skin under my throat.
“You are the goodest, sweetest thing I have ever had in my life, and I don’t want you to go screaming the other way, you understand me? One day I’ll tell you about everything,” he said softly.
I just stared up at him, and if he would have taken a picture, I’m sure my mouth would have been partially open, and if there could have been big, pink hearts behind my head, they would have been there.
I couldn’t even find it in me a little bit to be embarrassed as I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I’ve wanted to do this a hundred times.”
“What?” he asked quietly.
“Hug you.”
It took a moment, but the second his palms landed on the top of my head, I pressed my cheek against him. One of those big palms cupped the back of my head while the other landed right between my shoulder blades, and his voice was hoarse as he whispered, “Baby girl.”
“You are the sweetest thing I’ve ever had in my life,” I told him.
Something that sounded like a laugh that had gone through a meat grinder trickled out of his mouth.
“You are. Don’t argue with me.”
That meat grinder laugh came out of his mouth again, and I hugged him so tight, it was easy to ignore that my forearm was pressed right up against his butt cheeks.
“I’m not saying any of it either to get you to show me your tattoos.”
“I know.”
“Can I see them now though?”
His laugh was lighter, but I felt him moving, felt his fingers leave me before sensing him pulling his shirt over his head. He just barely moved away from me.
I squeezed him one more time before I finally lifted my face and instantly spotted the almost olive skin at his waist…
Covered by thick lines and shapes in faded black ink.
I held my breath as I dragged my eyes over the ink on him, beneath his belly button letters spelled out ENFORCER, big and shaped in half a circle. Above the word, on top of his ribs were two skulls with wings on them. The lines were thin and detailed. And everything above that were these massive tribal lines that spread out across his pectorals, his shoulders, biceps, going up over his throat….
They weren’t pretty.
They weren’t pretty at all.
Without saying a word, Rip turned in front of me, showing me his back.
And that’s where the oversized skeleton holding an umbrella within an imperfect circle was. The word REAPERS MC 1978 were tattooed directly before it, the lettering uneven and tilted up higher on one side than the other. Wrapped around all that were the same giant tribal curves and lines.
I reached up to trail my fingers over the smooth skin pulled tight over his muscles.
And I heard him let out a deep breath.
Dragging my fingers up higher, over the dip of his spine and higher up over where the notches of his spine were underneath him, I said, “I’m a little disappointed there isn’t a Chinese symbol for strength.”
The laugh that exploded out of him only made me laugh too.
“Your skin is really soft too, do you moisturize?”
He kept on laughing. “No. They aren’t something I want to last. Not anymore.”
“So what you’re trying to say is that your skin is just naturally soft?”
His “mm-hmm” was low.
I dragged the pads of my fingers up higher along the curve of where his spine went, leading up to his shoulders. Ink crisscrossed his spine, and it didn’t take a genius to know that it must have hurt like hell to have that tattooed.
“I have a tattoo.”
His head tilted up and his eyes focused on mine. “You do?”
“Yup.”
“Where?”
“On my ribs. I wanted it on my hip, but the artist talked me out of it.”
“It small?”
I shook my head, and that only earned me another blink. A slow one.
“What is it?”
“It’s a fox.”
“A fox?”