Zade
The morning sun shines in through the slats in the blinds and casts a warm glow across Sapphire’s bare back. She’s lying on her side, and I can see a tiny starburst-like scar on her shoulder. I stand at the side of the bed, fully dressed and tracing my fingers over the pearly flesh, wondering where it came from.
She makes a quiet, contented sound, but her eyes remain closed as I work my way from her shoulder down the outer curve of her breast and across her abdomen to where her tattoo disappears beneath the sheet hiding her hip.
I’ve never done this—never watched a woman sleep, never wondered about her scars or the meaning behind her tattoos. Or lingered around after s*x. I should be at the docks— I check my watch—in thirty minutes. My men would already be waiting by now. But first
