“Caden, I like this woman a lot. You’re welcome to bring her around absolutely any time,” he said with a wink.
Makenna laughed. “I mean it, it’s great. So much better than I even imagined.”
“Well, you’re welcome,” Heath said.
“Do I get to see it now?” Caden asked, curiosity getting the best of him.
“You do,” she said, her expression suddenly shy. She turned around, and Caden came closer.
The black ink was stunning against her fair skin. And she was right, Heath’s work was meticulous as always, crisp and clean and executed perfectly. The Celtic knots were beautiful, and the way the tree blended with them was interesting and unique. Across the bottom, six initials in an old-looking font formed a curve among the tree’s roots—M, E, P, I, M, C. Caden looked closer. The second M had a smaller letter hanging off of it on a little flourish. C.
“Say something,” she said.
He met her gaze in the mirror. “It’s incredible,” he said. “And it looks fantastic on you, just like I knew it would. What’s the little letter C?” That hadn’t been on the design she’d shown him earlier.
Meeting his gaze in the mirror, her expression went so, so soft, and she gave a shy little shrug. “The C…is for you.”
The words hung there for a moment, and it was like the room sucked in on him. “For me?” he heard himself say as if from a distance. Blood rushed through his ears.
She nodded.
“But…but this…this is your family tree,” he said, the room going a little Tilt-a-Whirl around him.
In an instant, she was right in front of him, hands on his chest and bright blue eyes staring up at him. “To me, it feels like you are part of my family, Caden. And I wanted you there.”
“I…I…don’t know….” He shook his head, entirely overwhelmed and overcome. “I mean, that’s amazing of you to do. I just can’t believe you did it,” he said, not exactly sure what he was saying.
And then something else occurred to him. She’d put his initial on her body. It wasn’t exactly the same as his name, but close enough. And he’d always heard that tattooing a lover’s name jinxed the relationship. It was bad luck. And for him, was there any other kind?
It was a stupid superstition, of course. But it was like him resisting telling her “I love you” because he didn’t want to tempt the fates, or the gods of mayhem, or whoever was responsible for bad things happening to good people. His brain was already imagining the ways that little curve of a C could be easily changed into something else—a heart, a clover, another knot.
And Jesus, here he was thinking about not wanting to tell her that he loved her when she’d permanently claimed him on her very skin.
“No one’s ever done something like that for me, Makenna,” he finally managed, his brain still only vaguely connected to his mouth. “It’s…it’s amazing.”
Her smile was pure joy. “I hope you don’t mind. Once I thought of it, it just felt so right. So I went with it. You’ll always be a part of me.”
“Let’s get you bandaged up,” Heath said, waving her over to the chair again.
Caden watched him work on Makenna and listened to him give her aftercare instructions, but he did it all as if he was watching it from across the room, from somewhere outside his body. His heart raced and his chest went tight.
Clearly, the tattoo of his initial plucked at his anxiety, but what he said was true—no one had ever done something this special for him. Ever. It was just that, offuckingcourse, that made him scared.
Terrified, actually.
After everything he’d lost, how could he have something so, so good for keeps?
CHAPTER TEN
Caden was ravenous for Makenna the minute they walked through her apartment door. He was on her in an instant. Pressing her back against the kitchen counter. Dropping her purse to the floor. Tugging off her coat.
He was using her. He knew he was. Using her to help shut down all the bullshit in his head. Because when he was with her, when he was in her, it all went away. It always fucking went away.
But she seemed to be right there with him. Shoving off his jacket, burrowing her hands under his shirt, jerking it up. They worked it off together.
Their kisses were urgent, deep, rough. He devoured her—her skin, her tongue, her moans. He couldn’t get enough of her.
“Still…too…many…clothes,” Makenna rasped around the edge of a kiss, her hands pulling at the button to his jeans.
“God, I need you,” he said, his mind an overwhelming blur, his chest still too tight from before.
“I’m right here,” she whispered. “Right here.”
But for how long?
The thought came out of nowhere and struck him stupid. He froze, then blinked. As if someone had just unexpectedly punched him in the face.
“Caden?” Breathing heavily, lips swollen, Makenna peered up at him in the dim glow thrown off by a light mounted on the bottom of one of the cabinets.