beneath his head and stared at the ceiling fan while it made lazy circles above us. He was so handsome, a perfect example of male beauty. He was simple yet rugged. He wasn't one of those pretty boys plastered all over the teen magazines. He was the exact personification of a bad boy—the kind daughters were always told to stay away from. And I'd just enjoyed every single inch of him —twice.
As my eyes roamed over his body, I focused on the tattoo centered over his heart. My fingers grazed over it, causing his attention to flitter back to me.
"What does it mean?" I asked as I traced the Celtic knot.
It was a circular design of twisting knots that wove their way over the middle of his chest, directly over his heart. The center of the tattoo was open, empty as if it were waiting for something.
He gave me a look that conveyed confusion and a bit of amusement. It'd been a few weeks since our little arrangement started, and this was probably the first personal question I'd asked. So, sue me. I was curious.
"Well, you know what it is, don't you?"
"Yeah, it's a Celtic knot. But I always thought a Celtic knot traditionally stood for love. So, did you have this tattoo done in honor of someone?" I asked, hoping like hell he wasn't going to tell me a story about some long lost love. I knew what we were doing here wasn't a relationship, but I wasn't keen on lying in bed, naked, while the guy I'd just fucked bared his soul about his broken heart.
Shit, why did I even ask?
"Yes. Me."
"What?" I asked, completely astonished as I slapped him on the chest. "You're so full of shit!"
"No." He laughed. "I'm serious. I got it to remind myself that when it comes down to it, out of everyone on this Earth, we will always choose ourselves."
"That's not true," I whispered.
"No?" he questioned. "We are a very selfish species. We might say we do things for one reason or another, but when push comes to shove, we do what we do for one specific reason —to put ourselves ahead. When a relationship falls apart and one person says it's for the best,, they're really just looking out for their own best interest.
I began to protest, but he just continued on.
"When you offer someone your space in line at the coffee shop, it's not out of the goodness of your heart. It's because you were hoping that person would notice you, or you wanted to be closer to the person behind them. Nothing we ever do is selfless. We love ourselves first."
"You sound like you speak from experience," I said softly.
"Don't we all? I come from a very selfish family. My dad snuck around on my mother and left her with nothing when he died. When I finally got out of there, I convinced myself that I'd never make the same mistake and fall in love, but I did. We all do. I met Heather the first week of my freshman year, and I was hooked. I thought we'd spend the rest of our lives together, but when I wanted to pursue my dreams and move to Hollywood, she told me she wasn't willing to make it work. She didn't want to come with me, and she wasn't willing to wait. Seven years together were gone like that...because she didn't want to take a chance on us. She chose herself instead," he said, keeping his focus on the fan as it continued its endless cycle of motion.
"Have you spoken to her since?" I asked, still running my fingers over his skin where the ink ran underneath.
"Not a single word," he answered with a bit of finality.
I knew the conversation was done then. I glanced out the window and saw the sun had set in the sky while we had been busy under the sheets.
It was a good thing I didn't have to work. We had wasted the entire day.
Shit! I did have to babysit though. I frantically whipped my head around, searching for the alarm clock on my nightstand. I didn't know why it took me so long to find it. It wasn't like it had taken a four-hour walk while I had been busy orgasming my brains out. Finally locating the clock, I sighed, seeing I had an hour before I had to be at Clare
As my eyes roamed over his body, I focused on the tattoo centered over his heart. My fingers grazed over it, causing his attention to flitter back to me.
"What does it mean?" I asked as I traced the Celtic knot.
It was a circular design of twisting knots that wove their way over the middle of his chest, directly over his heart. The center of the tattoo was open, empty as if it were waiting for something.
He gave me a look that conveyed confusion and a bit of amusement. It'd been a few weeks since our little arrangement started, and this was probably the first personal question I'd asked. So, sue me. I was curious.
"Well, you know what it is, don't you?"
"Yeah, it's a Celtic knot. But I always thought a Celtic knot traditionally stood for love. So, did you have this tattoo done in honor of someone?" I asked, hoping like hell he wasn't going to tell me a story about some long lost love. I knew what we were doing here wasn't a relationship, but I wasn't keen on lying in bed, naked, while the guy I'd just fucked bared his soul about his broken heart.
Shit, why did I even ask?
"Yes. Me."
"What?" I asked, completely astonished as I slapped him on the chest. "You're so full of shit!"
"No." He laughed. "I'm serious. I got it to remind myself that when it comes down to it, out of everyone on this Earth, we will always choose ourselves."
"That's not true," I whispered.
"No?" he questioned. "We are a very selfish species. We might say we do things for one reason or another, but when push comes to shove, we do what we do for one specific reason —to put ourselves ahead. When a relationship falls apart and one person says it's for the best,, they're really just looking out for their own best interest.
I began to protest, but he just continued on.
"When you offer someone your space in line at the coffee shop, it's not out of the goodness of your heart. It's because you were hoping that person would notice you, or you wanted to be closer to the person behind them. Nothing we ever do is selfless. We love ourselves first."
"You sound like you speak from experience," I said softly.
"Don't we all? I come from a very selfish family. My dad snuck around on my mother and left her with nothing when he died. When I finally got out of there, I convinced myself that I'd never make the same mistake and fall in love, but I did. We all do. I met Heather the first week of my freshman year, and I was hooked. I thought we'd spend the rest of our lives together, but when I wanted to pursue my dreams and move to Hollywood, she told me she wasn't willing to make it work. She didn't want to come with me, and she wasn't willing to wait. Seven years together were gone like that...because she didn't want to take a chance on us. She chose herself instead," he said, keeping his focus on the fan as it continued its endless cycle of motion.
"Have you spoken to her since?" I asked, still running my fingers over his skin where the ink ran underneath.
"Not a single word," he answered with a bit of finality.
I knew the conversation was done then. I glanced out the window and saw the sun had set in the sky while we had been busy under the sheets.
It was a good thing I didn't have to work. We had wasted the entire day.
Shit! I did have to babysit though. I frantically whipped my head around, searching for the alarm clock on my nightstand. I didn't know why it took me so long to find it. It wasn't like it had taken a four-hour walk while I had been busy orgasming my brains out. Finally locating the clock, I sighed, seeing I had an hour before I had to be at Clare
Similar Books
