Say My Name (Stark International Trilogy, #1) (80)

“That’s a hard one,” I say.

“It’s easy enough to see what it is. The arrows for rewind, fast forward, and play. The square for stop and the split square for pause. It’s a control panel for a digital recorder.”

“Clever boy. But the hard question is what does it mean?”

“I have no idea,” he admits. “But I’m curious enough to sacrifice that kiss.”

“I cut my hair,” I say. “It used to hit right there. And when—” I take a deep breath and start over. “Bob liked my hair. Used to make a big deal out of it. And so when it was all over, I cut it. And that’s what Cass put there.”

“Control,” he says in a musing tone. “You control it. How long. How short. What color.”

I roll over, then prop myself up on my elbow and give him a kiss, long and deep, and when I pull away I let my teeth drag over his lower lip. “You’re very good at this game.”

“I think I’d like to play again,” he says, and I take satisfaction from the need that fills his voice.

I start to roll back to my stomach, but he stops me. “No. This one,” he says, pointing at the female symbol twined with a rose on my breast.

I have to force myself not to squirm, because that is the one for Cass, and I’m not sure I want to tell him about that. But I’m the one who started this game, and I don’t think there’s a graceful way out. And the truth is that I have kept enough secrets from him. I don’t need to hold on to this one.

“All right,” I say. “But you won’t guess. A shame, since I was looking forward to administering your prize.”

“You have very little faith.”

“On the contrary, I’m quite certain.”

“Give me a moment.” He moves to straddle me. He is still fully clothed, and his jeans brush against my bare skin in a way that shouldn’t be provocative, but really is. He puts his hands on my waist, then strokes up until he reaches my breasts. He cups the right one, teasing it and playing with my nipple even as his other hand dances lightly over the tattoo.

“You’re just stalling.” I’m a little breathless. Not only from the magic he’s working on my breast, but because he’s sitting right over my sex, and though I am not supporting all of his weight, I can feel his heat and the brush of denim against my sex. And, frankly, it’s making me crazy.

“Maybe a little,” he says. “I thought you might enjoy the delay.”

He’s got that right.

I force myself to ignore the way my body is craving more than this slight touch and begin humming the theme from Jeopardy!

He laughs. “Fair enough.” He meets my eyes. “This is the one for when you slept with Cass.”

I am certain my face registers complete shock. “How did you get that simply from a tattoo?”

“Not just a tattoo. That tattoo. And I got it because I know you. And once you told me she was gay it just made sense.”

I’m still a little flabbergasted. I’m also a little relieved. If my best friend were a guy, the question would naturally come up. Have you two slept together, and then we’d deal with it. But despite political correctness, no boyfriend ever asks a girl if she’s slept with her best female friend. And despite being weirdly embarrassed about something I’m not the least bit ashamed of, I’m glad it’s out. I don’t want to be at the center of secrets between the people who are closest to me.

I sigh, struck suddenly by how important Jackson is to me, and how quickly he’s filled my world.

Then again, considering all the wasted time, it hasn’t really been quickly at all.

He is studying my face. “Are you upset I asked?”

“No. In fact, I was thinking that I’m relieved.”

“So did you two date?”

“No—no, it was just once, and we were both a little drunk. And she made a pass and I guess you could say I caught it.” I shrug. “We had fun. It was nice. Fine. I mean, I liked it, you know. But I’m not gay, although I guess maybe I was wishing I was. With the way I get, maybe I thought it would be easier. At any rate, she didn’t have any expectations, and it really was never even weird after.” I shrug again. “She’s my best friend and I love her, but we’re really just friends.”

He’s watching me, his expression intense. “You trust her.”

“Of course I do.”

“That’s why it was fine.”

He moves off me, and I take the opportunity to pull the blanket up, feeling suddenly strangely exposed.

“She was in control, Syl. She was the one who had the power. But you were fine. No nightmares. And you liked it.”

I nod slowly. I’d never thought of it like that.

He takes my hand, then raises it to his lips. “You can trust me, too.”

“I know I can,” I say, but I see the truth in his eyes. We’re not talking generically. He’s talking about my past. About the things I’ve held back.

He’s talking about Bob.

I manage a smile and reach for my wine. “I trust you,” I say, my voice airy. “Although I’m not sure why. You’re not keeping your promises, after all.”

“No?”

“You promised me earlier today that I’d get kink,” I say. “Wasn’t that the plan you outlined on the way to Damien’s? Instead, all I’ve gotten is talk, talk, talk.” I let my head fall back into the pillows as if bored.