“Maybe not,” she agreed, and my gut fell, but she lifted the hem of my tank, and my gaze was drawn to the movement of her hand as she dragged her thumb up the front of her thigh and removed the concealment she must have had in place over her skin there. A lump formed in my throat as my gaze tracked the lines of ink on her flesh. I knew the design because it mirrored the one Gabriel had told me to place on my own skin. The lines which dictated the position of the heavens on the night she’d told me no. The night when everything could have been so different if I’d only followed what my heart
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