“Hey,” he says, dividing a terse greeting between the three of us before settling his gaze on me. “Can we talk?”

“Uh, sure. Later, bitches,” I tell them with a wink, hoping to dispel the duh duh duuuuuhh vibe Kenan ushered in. “We can talk back here.”

We walk past the curious seamstresses who inspect every foot and inch of Kenan as we pass. I open the door of the backroom, my usual haven. He walks past me, and I lock the door in case someone gets curious or wander-y.

“Welcome home, Lotus,” I say, clutching the knob in my hands behind me, my back pressed to the door. “Glad to see you, Lotus. How was Milan? Did you—”

“You have a nipple piercing.”

He says it almost like an accusation. I’m mystified, because we’ve had a few deep, shivery, drawn-out kisses, yes, but he hasn’t seen the girls yet, so far as I can recall.

“I do,” I agree quietly, frowning. “How do you know that?”

“Anyone in Soho could know that,” he says, walking in tight circles. “Step into the Gilded Bean and bam. It’s right there.”

Something prickles my memory. The Gilded Bean. Where have I heard . . .

“Chase,” I blurt. “He has some photos showing there.”

“Bingo.” He props his big body against an unsuspecting table I’m not sure can hold him. He’s not exactly sitting, but not quite standing. I worry for them both.

“Is there a photo of me in the collection or something?” I ask. “You think you saw something that—”

“I don’t think I saw shit, Lotus,” he snaps. “I would recognize my girlfriend in a photo that’s as tall as I am.”

His girlfriend.

It’s the first time he’s called me that and I can’t even appreciate it because of this interrogation.

“No, it can’t be.” I shake my head, unable to compute the data. “You saw my face?”

“I didn’t need to.”

“Then you could be mistaken.”

“The tattoo on your collar bone, the moons on your fingers, your gris-gris ring, the lotus flower around your belly button. Do I sound mistaken?”

“That doesn’t make sense. I didn’t sign a release for any nudity. I saw the photos he took. I’d remember that. I don’t have a problem with nudity in art, for the record, but I didn’t want to do it personally.”

“But you did pose for him?” Another accusation. One he isn’t entitled to, and it’s starting to irk me.

“Yes, I did,” I answer stiffly. “I was finishing up at FIT, and was basically an intern here making no real money. Chase paid me to sit for him. It’s not a secret, and it’s none of your business.”

He runs a hand over the back of his neck. “I know. You’re right. I just . . .” His head drops back, his eyes on the ceiling. “I hate people seeing you like that.”

“I don’t belong to you, Kenan,” I tell him. “You don’t get to criticize me posing for photos, even if there isn’t supposed to be any nudity. I’ll deal with Chase, believe that, but you don’t get to come up in here growling with some caveman shit over things that happened before we were . . . anything. It doesn’t work that way, and if you think you can tell me what to do, let me set you straight. I am not that chick.”

“I know you don’t belong to me, Lotus,” he growls. “Why do you think I’m acting like an asshole? It makes me crazy that you don’t. If I’m honest—”

“Yes, please, let’s try that.”

“If I’m honest,” he repeats, both brows raised meaningfully. “It makes me crazy that Chase had something with you that I haven’t yet. He knows you in ways I don’t.”

“You mean because we fucked?” I cross my arms over my chest. “In this little game where you and Chase keep score, it bothers you that you’re behind? We can fuck right now and your problem will be solved, right? You’ll be even? You want to fuck me, Kenan?”

“Of course I do, but not just that.” His frown softens. His voice softens. “You know not just that, Lotus.”

I push off the door and walk over until I’m standing in front of him. “Then what is this about?” I ask, my voice softening, too. “Chase and I had sex, yeah, but I thought you wanted more.”

“I do.” He cups my hips with huge hands, and pulls me to stand between his legs. “You know I do.”

“Then don’t ruin it,” I whisper. I press closer, and, with him sitting and me in my stilettos, I can more easily link my arms behind his neck. “Don’t let him ruin it.”

His hands shift from my hips to rubbing my back through the silk.

“I haven’t been jealous of him before,” he says. “I mean, I didn’t like that you’d been with him, but you’re a grown woman with a normal sex life, so I get it.”

“Things haven’t been exactly typical for me in the sex department lately.” I laugh dryly, “but go on.”

“The photo is so gorgeous, and he wouldn’t sell it to me.” He tucks my unruly hair back, tracking the shell of my ear like he does often. “You’re fantastic in it, so uninhibited. It’s decadent, and you look like you’re . . .”

“Like I’m what?”

“Coming.”

The word caresses my lips. “I realized he’s seen your face, how you look when you come, and I haven’t. He knows things about your body that I don’t. For instance, I have no idea what the ink is at the top of your thighs. I’ve seen flashes of it, but I don’t know. He does. I guess what I’m saying is he knows you intimately.”

“No, he knows me sexually. I draw a line between those two things, and no one has ever crossed it.”

I lift a little higher to kiss his jaw.

“But you could,” I whisper. “I think you could cross that line, Kenan, and it has scared me since the moment I met you.”

I draw back a few inches to peer into his face. “That, what I just told you, is intimacy. It’s truth that I’m trusting you with. Chase never had that.”

He nods and slides his fingers into my hair, angling my head closer and taking my bottom lip between his. His hand slides down my back, drawing me even closer until our chests touch, and I’m on fire from the brush of our bodies together. As much as I told him he had no right, his possessiveness turns me on, and I’m deepening the kiss, desperate for as much of him as I can have.

“I missed you,” he confesses into the kiss.

The words fist my heart, squeeze. I nod my agreement, needing to be close. Wanting more intimacy. Craving more trust between us. I hop up onto the table beside him. Curiosity is clear in his eyes. It turns to lust when I slowly work the silk dress up my thighs.

“Chantilly lace,” I say, tracing the intricate pattern of the tattoos ringing the tops of my thighs. “There were these stockings in a little shop in Paris. At the top was the most exquisite lace I’d ever seen. No way I could afford it, so I took a picture and had it inked here.”

I study the scrolls mimicking the lace pattern. The bands aren’t very wide. “I kept them really high in case I ended up hating them so no one would be able to see.”

“They’re beautiful.” He traces the intricate pattern with one finger. His knuckle brushes against my panties, and I lose my breath. He glances up at me sharply. “I’m sorry.” He clears his throat. “I should probably go.”

I grab his finger, staring at the contrast of the ink against my skin. “Do you want to see?” I ask, my voice raspy, husky, low.

“See what?” he asks, a perplexed frown pinching between his brows.

Am I really taking this step? Stepping off a building and believing I can fly? Do I have faith in the man I’m getting to know and care about? Can I trust him? Can I trust what’s happening between us?

Real faith requires bravery.

Provoked by my own words, I step off.

“Do you want to see me come?”

23

Kenan

The brazen question falls from her lips with the impact of a landslide, pelting me with a hundred responses and questions at once. She licks her bottom lip, flicking a glance at me through long, thick lashes.

“I thought you weren’t ready for—”

“I’m not, but last I checked you can come without having sex.” Her laugh is hollow. “I do it all the time.”

A deep breath expands my chest. Even the thought of seeing Lotus touch herself—of seeing her unravel that way under my hands . . . I’m seized by lust, in its grip. And I don’t need anything from her. I want her to take and take and take, and not even think about what would make me feel good. I’ve never wanted someone’s pleasure this way. To see it. To taste it. To make it.

“Are you sure, Lotus?”

“I’m sure I’d like to try,” she says softly. “The bleakness I’ve felt the last few times I had sex, the emptiness and meaninglessness, I don’t ever want to associate that with you.” She frames my face between her hands. She presses her lips to mine in a barely-there caress. “Touch me, Kenan.”

We open our mouths to each other at the same time, inviting each other in, prompted by an invisible harmony of need. I’m drawn into the heat and sweetness of her mouth—how she gasps and moans for me. She pulls back, holds my gaze, and tugs the top of her strapless dress down.

I swallow deeply at my first sight of her. The photo is gorgeous, but it can’t compare to this closeness—to the potential of touching and watching her body respond. Her warm, naked flesh stuns me, distended nipples begging for my touch and my kisses. Watching her face, making sure she’s fine, I brush my thumbs over her nipples. The breath whooshes from her, sharp and startled.

I flatten my palms against her breasts, rotating in circles that slowly build, faster until her nipples furl tight and round. Her head drops back, her hair a spill of platinum curls around copper shoulders. I caress her back, my hands meeting, overlapping at her spine. She feels so fragile. Not just the delicate bones, but the dark eyes aglow with trust as she waits for me to do what I’m longing to do. I take the pierced nipple into my mouth tenderly. God, reverently.