Free Montaine by Ada Rome Page A

of his body on
mine was a magnetic force that I could not resist.
    He stepped back and ran a
hand through his tousled black hair.
    “Do you, though? Do you
understand?” He tipped his chin downward and crossed his arms over his bare
chest. His ice blue eyes stared at me from under lowered brows. I had no idea
how to respond. Maybe I don’t understand. What does he mean?
    My mouth hung open,
aiming but failing to utter comprehensible words. I leaned on the counter for
support. Every nerve ending in my skin strained toward him. Just one touch and
the barrier would crumble. One touch, and those strong hands would plunge into
my blouse and caress my naked flesh. I wanted to feel his fingers tearing at my
flimsy bra and sliding down into my pants to feel my wet and pulsing center. He
knew it, and I knew it. The image made my cheeks flush hot. The tension between
us crackled like lightning.
    “Come on,” he finally
said. His voice was rough and wounded, as if he were struggling to contain a
strong emotion. “Why don’t I go ahead and show you that roof deck.”
    I nodded quickly. I
didn’t trust my voice to remain level at the moment.
    As I followed him up the
curving metal staircase, I watched the muscles in his back shift and writhe
beneath the skin, creating moving undulations in the tree roots that snaked
down his spine. I suddenly had a revelation. I knew what Trent’s tattoos
signified.
    “I get it,” I blurted
once we had emerged onto the flat cement roof. I scanned the canvas of his skin
under the faint moonlight. He raised one eyebrow in a question. “The tattoos,”
I clarified. “I know what they mean.”
    “Oh?” He leaned back on
one heel and placed his hands on his hips. The wounded note was gone. His voice
was back to the droll and slightly mocking tone that I found both incredibly infuriating
and impossibly arousing.
    “The four elements.
Earth, air, water, and fire. The tree on your back is earth, the winds and
cyclones on your chest are air, the waves and sea creatures are water, and the
flames and dragons are fire. It’s brilliant. It’s beautiful.”
    His lips broke into a
pleased smile, but his eyelids squinted in a secretive leer.
    “Congratulations, Kat.
You have solved one piece of the puzzle.”
    “What do you mean?”
    He turned and settled
onto an opened futon that I just now noticed amid a collection of lounge chairs
and potted plants. He lay backwards, briefly grimacing from the pain in his
side, and patted the empty space on the cushion. I slipped out of my shoes and
settled next to him, resting on my side and leaning on one elbow.
    “Well,” he said as he
placed one hand behind his head and gazed up into the black sky, where only a
few brave stars managed to outshine the blanket of city lights below. “You know
what the tattoos mean in general. But you don’t know exactly what they mean to
me.”
    I considered this. He was
right. Why had he chosen to cover his body in images of the four elements?
    “And I suppose you’re not
going to make it easy and just tell me,” I replied with a sarcastic smirk.
    “You’re the reporter, my
dear. I’d say it’s your job to figure it out.”
    I lay back and joined him
in gazing up at the sky.
    “Will you even give me a
hint?”
    He paused, breathing
deeply in and out. A full minute passed in silence. You never realize how long
a minute can feel until you’ve spent one locked in quiet anticipation.
    “It’s about a girl.” His
voice was low and deep, almost angry. He turned his head toward me. My heart
caught in my throat. His eyes briefly met mine with a searching intensity and
then dropped to the place where his hand rested on the cushion. He smiled, but
it was a closed-lip smile, tight and sad. “It’s always about a girl, isn’t it?”
He chuckled quietly, wistfully.
    “Where is she?” I wanted
to ask who instead of where , but I wasn’t yet ready to face the
answer. I didn’t want to picture the girl who secretly held