Darby Carmichael does what I swore no woman would ever do—she owns me. Period. I offered nothing, yet she took everything, and I don’t fucking ever want it back.

“Let me,” she whispers as I start to remove my shirt.

I raise my arms, surrendering to her as the dark material is pulled from my body. Her eyes explore my marked flesh, and when her pink tongue slides out to wet those perfect cherry lips … dear God, I want to fall to my knees right here in her bedroom and beg for redemption. I’ll worship her until the day I die because only her touch can take away the sins that plague my jaded soul.

I clench my fists as she pulls down my pants. She wants this … me. She wants to see all of me. My control wavers on the edge of insanity because all I want is to touch her, taste her … inhale her like the addict I never knew I was. The addict I … Never. Knew. I. Was.

For a brief moment I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting to remember, dying to forget.

She’s clueless to the depths of her own beauty. I’ve hidden myself behind ink and makeup just like I’ve done for so many other people. But Darby has the purest, unmarked skin I’ve ever seen. Her auburn hair pulls the most incredible hues of blue from her eyes. She’s … stunning.

When she reaches behind and unzips her dress, letting it pool at her feet, I die a little. Subtle curves with definition and purpose exemplify the essence of female beauty exactly how it was meant to be. Stepping out of her dress, she moves behind me. I suck in a breath as her lips press to my back, fingertips tracing the ink all the way to my shoulder.

“This …” she whispers “…the colors are exquisite…” she moves her lips along my tattoo, “…but why a vulture?”

Pump, pump, pump.

I continue to clench my fists, feeling all my muscles go rigid in response. My God, the need to touch her is excruciating. “Unconventionality … destruction … death, but also patience…” I swallow “…renewal … protection.”

Her fingers ghost down my arm as she moves in front of me again. The softest gaze follows her touch over my diverse palate of feathers, flowers, and a river of flowing black letters and symbols all the way to my hand.

How will I ever tell her that I don’t know what half of them mean? How will I show her what I can’t see?

“I love you, Trick.” Soft eyes find mine, then fall to her finger tracing over the wide black sanskrit from my lower abs around to my back. “What does this mean?”

“Don’t look back in anger,” I whisper.

Her delicate brows tense as she moves her head in a slow single nod. “You and I …” she presses her lips to my chest “…we’re not a game. No more pretending.” She looks up at me.

“No more pretending,” I confirm.

Turning her back to me, she removes her panties then draws her long hair over her shoulder. I kiss her neck and die a little more as her body shudders from my touch. Unhooking her bra, I whisper in her ear, “Do you wonder what you’re doing with me?”

Her breath catches in her chest as she turns to me. “Sometimes …” Her eyes flit between my eyes and my mouth.

I devour the lips I crave while laying her on her bed. Her fingers make a deep claim into my back while her legs clasp around my ass, drawing me inside. Heavy eyelids surrender; she moans my name. Resisting the urge to move, my jaw relaxes to release my labored breath as I wait for her to look at me again.

Opening her eyes she moves her hands to my face. “But most of the time…” she kisses me and I rock my hips into her beautiful body “…I wonder what I’d ever do without you.”