Page 20 of Lost & Found

She almost always wore it up, which showed her pretty features and accentuated her unique blue eyes. The damned things sparkled like glass and were captivating as hell. As she reached us, her gaze landed on Kinsley, and she smiled.

It transformed her face, as always. She had a soft side, but it was reserved for those she loved. In her hand was her sketchpad, and when she turned toward me, the excitement I had earlier rushed back.

Without a measure of nervousness, she opened the book, and I couldn’t help but be impressed by the intricate details. Smack dab in the middle was a lion, mid-roar. He exuded a sense of power and majesty. It was undeniable. Nestled within its open jaws was a badass skull.

“It’s massive,” I said, dragging my fingers over the lines. “I fucking love it.”

Isabella’s face lit up, and a hint of pride flowed from her.

“I was thinking your chest would be fitting. Considering that’s where I’ve put the other one.”

I pulled my T-shirt off and flung it to Kinsley. “Show me where it will fall.”

Her eyes widened—they always did—and desire flickered there before she smothered it. I chalked it up to not seeing many men’s chests before, but considering she knew mine fairly well, it still surprised me every time.

“I was thinking right here,” she said.

Thankfully, Kinsley was still in another world and on her phone, so she didn’t notice the exchange taking place. And one was definitely taking place, as confusing as it was.

Isabella was like fire to me, something I knew better than to play with but was drawn to, nonetheless. She cleared her throat and reached out a hand. Her fingertips skimmed over my sternum, cool and soft.

“The crown will go here at the top and the lion itself will sit,” she paused as she traced the center of my chest, “perfectly in the center.”

Our eyes locked for a brief second before hers drifted down to her hands. Her head tilted to the side. “And the lion’s chin will rest below the bottom of your sternum.”

She hummed the last word. The sound was feather-light, sensual. It sent goosebumps cascading down my arms.

“And the details on the sides?” I questioned, glancing at the sketch once more.

She traced the center of my chest again, then curved outward, mapping the mane along my skin toward my ribs. “The swirls will flow out of the mane. They represent your journey with us. They’ll wrap around here.”

Her fingers once more danced across my skin, wrapping around my nipples toward my sides. Fuck. I couldn’t fight the visceral response as they tightened under her caress. I bit back a groan.

Did she have any idea what she was doing to me?

If the look on her face were any indication. She didn’t. She looked lost in thought, as she often did when she entered the realm of her work.

Get her back on track.

Yeah. That was what I needed to do. “And the crown? What does that represent?” I asked.

“Strength and leadership.” She licked her lips, and I noticed her breathing hitched.

Our eyes met, and we both froze, lingering in the moment. Not wanting to break it, I whispered, “And the title. You always title your work. I don’t see one.”

“Lev,” she breathed. “It’s fitting with you being the Russian when you work. You remind me of a lion.”

Her voice softened on the last word. In my head, I grabbed her face between my hands, hauled her tight little body across mine and devoured her like I had the night we killed Cameron Evans. She looked up, her fingers tracing light circles around my nipples. Our eyes met, and the air crackled between us with unspoken tension.

“You can’t go back there,” the receptionist exclaimed, breaking the moment, but not before Hannah rounded the corner and saw Isabella touching me.

“I thought you were teaching a class. You lied to me.” The accusation was laced with the earlier hurt she’d expressed on the phone.

What the hell?

“We can talk more about the tattoo later. At home,” Isabella said, ignoring Hannah entirely.

“You should probably put this on.” Kinsley held my shirt out.