Heartless (Steel Demons MC #6) - Crystal Ash Page 0,43

what you like. That's important."

His arms came around me, heavy and strong as he pulled me into his chest. "What I like most is just being with you."

My whole damn body couldn't stop fluttering. How could a man with zero relationship experience know the exact words to make me fall so hard?

I knew from Shadow there was no pretense, no flattery or attempt to be charming. He was just telling me what he honestly felt. And it was me, the one with now four partners, who didn't have the courage to spit out my true feelings.

Kissing seemed to get the point across well enough, so I let my eyes fall shut and just tasted him. The man knew how to feel out a kiss, and matched my slow, lazy pace, just savoring and tasting.

"Do we ever have to leave?" I whispered, lips pulsing and bruised.

"Eventually," he hummed. "But not right now."

The sunlight had become harsh, almost uncomfortably warm. Being pressed up against a hot man might have had something to do with it too.

"Give me a second. I need to cool off," I told Shadow, scooting away to take off my leather jacket.

"It did get hot," he observed, tugging at the neckline of his shirt.

"This weather is nuts. It was snowing just the other day." I scooted toward a shadier patch of grass and stretched my legs out, crossing them at the ankles while I leaned back on my elbows. My T-shirt had ridden up, exposing a few inches of midriff, but not to the point where I cared. I was sweating there anyway.

"That, um." Shadow was making an adorable attempt to not stare at my body. "That shirt looks familiar."

"I stole it from Jandro, I think." I pulled the fabric straight to get a clear view of the design, now faded and cracked with age. "Looks like an early version of the club logo."

"It is." Shadow sounded pleased. "I screen-printed those shirts years ago. I remember now."

"Oh yeah? I love this shirt. It's my second favorite, next to your hoodie."

Shadow smiled, a rare full one that lit up his whole face. He opened his mouth, then promptly shut it, the smile gone.

"What?"

"Nothing." He averted his gaze.

"You looked like you were gonna say something."

"I was going to ask you a question, but never mind."

"Now you've got me curious." I rolled to my side, propping my head up on my hand. "What is it?"

"Seriously, nothing. Just something dumb that popped into my head."

"Shadowww," I whined, letting my head flop down to the grass. "I want to know. Please?"

"I, um." He sighed and raked a hand back through his hair, looking everywhere but at me. "I was going to ask if I could...draw you."

My mouth fell open. "Draw me?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Shadow, I would love that!"

Finally, he looked at me again. "You would?"

"Yes, are you kidding? I can't imagine anything more flattering." I grinned hard. "My tattoo artist boyfriend drawing me? I'd love nothing more. Did you bring supplies?"

"I always keep a sketch pad and some pencils on my bike," he said. "You really want me to?"

"Yes, if you do." I rolled to my stomach, kicking my feet up. "I can be flash art in your future tattoo shop."

"I don't know about that," he growled, rising to his feet. “A drawing of you on a wall for everyone to see? I’d rather keep you to myself.”

I giggled to myself while he got what he needed from his bike. While he was one of the most stoic and easygoing of my men, I liked that small bite of possessiveness too.

"How do you want me to pose?" I asked when he settled back on the grass with the sketch pad on his knee.

"I think, like you were before," he said, his gaze on me now studying and inquisitive. "Lying back on your elbows, ankles crossed. Yes, like that. Can you stay there for a few minutes?"

"No problem," I grinned, glancing down at my still-uncovered belly. "Want me to fix the shirt?"

"No, leave it." He glanced up from his paper with a smirk, the pencil in hand already sweeping across the page.

"Where do you want me to look?"

"Keep looking at me like that."

I was hoping he'd say that. He was fascinating to watch. His gaze was technical, focused, but everything about this was extremely intimate.

Sometimes his eyes would meet mine before returning to his page. Other times he glanced at my body, his hand making long, sweeping movements. Sometimes he made small, fast marks, never erasing anything.