Rock Bottom (Tristan & Danika #2)(15)

I rolled my eyes, though I’d known all along he’d go straight caveman on this.

I rubbed his chest, a soothing gesture, still trying to avoid what I knew was coming. “I’m hungry. Let’s go eat, ‘kay?”

He stayed where he was as I pulled myself slowly out of his hands. I bent to grab my bra, turning my back to him again as I shrugged into it.

I wasn’t quick enough, and he stayed my hand with his, stepping around me to look at my chest. A tick started pumping high in his jaw as he took in the bruises there.

This was bad.

He swallowed, let go of my hand, gripping his fingers hard into his hair as he took a few steps back from me. “What is that?” Each word was pronounced slowly through his teeth. He was about to lose it.

I fastened the bra, bent down, grabbed my shirt, and shrugged into it fast. The longer he looked at the marks, the worse he seemed to get, so I wisely determined to cover them sooner rather than later.

“Tell me.”

I ignored that too, going to dig through my bag for something that would completely cover my shoulders. “It’s not what you’re thinking, and you need to calm down.”

“Explain it to me then. Explain to me why my girlfriend looks like she’s been manhandled. Give me a good reason for those marks, and then I’ll calm the f**k down.” Rage vibrated through his voice with every word.

“I don’t like your tone, and I refuse to talk about this right now.” As I spoke, I shrugged into a little blue cardigan that covered my shoulders and chest.

“Do I need to call Jerry about this?”

My nose wrinkled at him as I tried to figure that one out. “Surely you don’t think that Jerry bruised me up?”

“No, but I think he will help me get to the bottom of this.”

He wasn’t wrong. Jerry would piece things together in a hurry. He knew where I’d gone yesterday.

“Please, just drop it. I’m hungry, and this nonsense is going to make us late to meet with Frankie.”

I didn’t wait for an answer, walking out of his room. I could feel him moving behind me as I made my way through the apartment, which I supposed was a good sign. Maybe he was actually going to drop it.

He was silent on the drive to the Cavendish Hotel & Casino where Frankie had her tattoo parlor. We were meeting her at a diner that had the best steak and eggs in town. It was turning into a weekly ritual, though Tristan was a new addition to the equation, since he’d been gone so often lately.

After twenty minutes of silence, I was ready to crack. It was unnerving to watch him drive, his hands white on the steering wheel, without a word passing between us.

I put my hand on his thigh, rubbing in little soothing circles. “Frankie’s been working on my tattoo,” I told him finally. I’d been meaning to get it done when he was out of town, and surprise him when he got back, but it was the only way I could think of to distract him from his black mood.

It worked. He sent me a probing sideways glance, his interest thoroughly caught. “Your tattoo? So you are for sure getting one?”

I nodded, rubbing my hand higher, feeling a rush of relief that he was going to let the issue of the bruises go. “Yes. For sure.”

“When? You’re not going to do it while I’m out of town, are you?”

That had been exactly what I was planning to do. “Um, yeah. Why?”

“I want to be there.” He was vehement.

“You that excited to watch Frankie torture me on her table?”

His hand covered mine on his leg, squeezing gently. “Not excited, no. I just want to be there. Will you promise me that you won’t do it while I’m out of town? Please.”

The please got to me. He didn’t say it often, but when he did, it was always sincere and earnest. This was important to him, for whatever reason. “She’s very booked up, so I’ll ask her when she can squeeze me in at breakfast. I kind of promised her that she could let her crew film it for the show.”

His mouth tightened, and I knew he wasn’t happy about that. “Where are you getting it?”

“On my back.”

“Where on your back?”

“Mid back, near my spine.”

“So you’re going topless for Frankie’s camera crew? On f**king TV?”

I sighed. My caveman was back. “No one will see anything but my back. My front will be down on the table, and I’ll be careful to keep everything covered up. Quit looking for things to get upset about.”

“Looking for things? Looking for things?” he asked the question twice, as though he were thinking aloud. “My girlfriend, who I’m f**king in love with, comes to me covered in bruises that she won’t explain, and I’m looking for things to get upset about? And then I find out she’s putting her f**king perfect bare body on TV, for any f**king weirdo to jack off to, and I’m looking for things?”

I shut my eyes, wishing I could take back the words that had obviously made things worse.

I caved. “I’ll make sure I get my ink done when you’re there, okay? You can stay close and guard my modesty. That make you feel better?”

“It helps, but you’re off your rocker if you think I’m just going to forget about those bruises.”

I kept from rolling my eyes, but only barely. There were downsides to having a possessive boyfriend, no matter that I was crazy in love with him.