Her head tilted to the side, and I could tell she was thinking by the way she squinted. Slowly, her hands rose to show me her intentions. I pushed away my natural urge to flinch and didn’t say no, to my own surprise.
The tips of her fingers moved to mine, and very cautiously moved to my battered knuckles, wrist, forearm, bicep, shoulders. Her eyes followed her movements, and mine drifted closed. It didn’t hurt, didn’t burn, or make my mind snap back to any haunted memories. No, it felt different, like a warmth that lingered wherever she went. She skimmed past my jaw and brushed my wet hair back from my face.
I heard her whisper something, but I couldn’t make it out. She started to trace the tattoo across my heart before both hands flattened on my chest. She pushed upward and gently kisse
