"Okay," he said, and I stared at him nonplused. Just okay? Isn't he going to question me further? I should be relieved he didn't press the issue, but I found it hard. Dace is usually someone who doesn't let things go easily.
I'll just play along then... because I don't want to push it either. It's best if we're just in our heads. I need time and for Dace to believe nothing is going on.
I want him to feel I'm still mad at him, that's why I'm pulling away and acting like a brat. I'm still mad though.
My hand brushed against his lower abdomen, feeling the hardness of his muscles beneath my fingertips. I traced the ridges of his abs up his chest, letting each fingertip memorize every line of ink my eyes followed. His tattoos always amazed me they weren't like something you get at a regular tattoo shop, they were otherworldly and alluring. My hands always itched to trace them all the time.
