Taking Chances [18+]

Pt. 8: Losing Control

I started coming around from the best sleep I'd had since...I couldn't even remember when. It was that wonderfully heavy, dream-like feeling you get just before you become fully conscious. I turned my head slightly to the right, my nose softly assaulted by the feminine scent and sweetness of a certain auburn-haired curvy girl I hadn't been able to stop thinking about for months.

Cami.

I inhaled deeply, smelling that cocoa butter body wash she always used. Damn that shit smelled so good. I squeezed her tightly before rolling onto my back. I held back a smirk knowing she was still tucked up against me, her head resting lightly on my shoulder.

I froze when I felt a single fingertip trailing up my torso, over my pecs, and down my stomach. She was tracing my tattoos and I loved it. Her touch was so delicate and barely there, I nearly opened my eyes to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

Sometimes it was annoying being covered in so much ink. Especially when it caused people to judge me...or turn me down for jobs. Usually it was a nice conversation piece. It gave women an excuse to reach out and touch me. But with Cami, it was different.

She was so fascinated by them, commenting on them from the first day we met. She wasn't scared or put off by them. She just seemed genuinely interested. Unlike everyone else, she seemed to know they meant something.

"I like the tiger."

"What?" I asked, furrowing my brow as we sat in front of each other stretching. I had just been assigned a new client and I couldn't help but notice the way she stared at me.

Cami climbed toward me, kneeling in front me, taking me by surprise with her boldness. She pointed to the intricate design on my chest and smiled. "The tiger is my favorite." She paused to point at it, her finger hovering as though she was battling with herself not to touch me. "Right here on your..."

"My pec..." I supplied. I smoothed my hands over them and smiled widely. "These are your pectoral muscles."

Her gaze lingered a little longer before her eyes snapped back to mine. I could have sworn she was blushing. I liked it. There were far too many girls here so full of themselves, staring at themselves in the mirror more than they cared to work out. This girl seemed so eager to learn, anxious to make herself better.

But she had never touched them before.

I always caught her looking at them, studying the ink and then studying me as if she could look in my eyes and know why I got each one. I wanted her to know what each one meant. I wanted her to read them like a book and know my story.

Fuck, I wanted her to know everything. I was just too scared for her to find out all my secrets.

This girl was so different than the ones I had been with before. Since the day she moved in, I could see she was special. Her mind was always working overtime. So wrapped up in her insecurities, no doubt from that bastard ex-boyfriend of hers.