“Hey!” he mock cried.
"In a woman, you twat!"
"Oh, okay, I get it! A good sense of humour, curves, brown hair, brown eyes and... 100% trust,"
Yeah for me!
He regarded me intensely. "How many sexual partners have you had?"
"Four, including you. You, Mr. North?" I asked, my heart picking up speed as I awaited his response.
He winced. "More."
"Not good enough. I want numbers!" No you don’t, Tash, why have you asked this question?
He lowered his head. "I'm ashamed to say I don't know. I’m thirty-one. I’ve had two semi-serious relationships, if you can call them that and... considerably more one-night stands. We're not talking hundreds here, but there have been more than is deemed acceptable from someone of my age, put it that way."
I huffed at the fact he wouldn't confess more than this little titbit of information. I folded my arms. "That's all you’re saying?"
Considerably more one night stands? Great!
He nodded sternly, and then shook his head. “Actually, there is one thing.”
I glared back moodily, arms still crossed across my chest. That worked against me, I shouldn’t have pushed the girls in his face. He groaned and had to struggle to tear his lusty gaze away from the view.
He took my face in his large hands. “You’re number one, you’re it. Easily the best sex of my life, and I want you for more than just one night. I’ll take you forever if you’ll have me. With you everything is just… different… it’s just… beyond anything I could have ever imagined,” he whispered swallowing the heart-felt words that hitched in his throat.
I tried to stay in a mood but his words melted my anger, and I moved to kiss his nose. “What’s with all of the tattoos?” I asked while I licked the end of the tribal swirl on his lower neck.
He moved his head further to the side to let me explore. “My good buddy back in Vancouver is an artist and I asked for something one day, I let him decide. After my arm, I kinda got addicted and we kept going. He used me as a showcase for his work. Most people don’t like it, think it’s too much, but I’m happy with it. Tattoo’s are art to me.”
I smiled. “I bloody love it! It’s like you’re all my favourite things put on Earth to tempt me, especially the tats, they’re my weakness. But why the left-hand side?”
“It’s the side of the heart, the soul. It sounds stupid, but for me it was a spiritual experience, helped me rid myself of some demons I’d been carrying; they remind me that I’m strong. The left-hand side is purely for me. The right, I’ve been saving for someone special, a blank canvas just for them.”
I wasn’t expecting that level of admission. I loved how he was always able to surprise me."Okay, next question,” he moved the conversation on swiftly before I got a chance to find out about those pesky demons and that someone-special tattoo plan.
“Are you close to your family?" he asked.
"Extremely. You?"
"Very."
"Can I ask a personal question?"
He nodded.
"Obviously I’ve met your mother and siblings, but where's your dad?"
Tudor tensed as rigid as a board underneath me, digging his fingers into my hips.
I shifted at the feeling. “Ow!”
He dropped his hands into the safety of the water. "Shit, sorry, Tash. Look, he's not in my life."
I stroked his chest and peered up, he was now staring at the stars. "Why?" I pushed.
He dropped his gaze to me looking slightly pissed off. "Tash, he's just not. Leave it there. I can’t talk about it."
I stopped stroking his arm and withdrew from his lap like a scolded dog. He caught me before I could scurry too far away and brought me back to his chest, controlling his breathing, mouth sucking droplets of water off my skin. "Sunshine, I'm sorry, forgive me. I... I just can't talk about him. Please just understand that that topic is a no go area for me."
I sighed and accepting his apology. Hopefully in time he would tell me more about it, open up.
"Okay, my turn," I announced. He visibly relaxed knowing I was respecting his wishes. "What's your favourite song?"
He lowered his lids shyly, before peeking over his lashes hesitantly to meet my eyes. "‘Beneath Your Beautiful’."
I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
"Yours?" he asked, grinning.
I whispered, "The same. You know that."