Still Surviving Read Online Free PDF Page A

heavy in my punch drunk head, tasting her skin in the car was a mistake. Sweet and floral. Her pulse under my tongue, my touch had caused her heart to race, making her scent saturate the space between us. The scent memory engrained itself within my synapses. Why had I asked her to bring me here? I would never use Tiffany like the other girls.
    “You paint? I thought—“
    “What? That I was just some bartender with no talent?” She raised her eyebrow and smiled. “I plan on getting a job as a tattoo artist. You should let me practice on you.” She chuckled as she dropped her car keys on her dresser.
    The room had soft light pouring from lamps that were covered with dark fabric shades. Clothes were spilling from the closet, paints littered the top of her dresser, books stacked high on her night stand, and one book laid open and face down on her pillow. Her walls were covered in band posters and a few framed pictures of what I assumed were her family. She was everywhere within these walls… she was disorder, and I was sinking. Why the fuck did I come here?
    She moved gracefully through her room, picking up and moving this and that, apologizing the whole time for the mess. Telling me how she doesn’t have visitors, how this was the first time in ages a man had been here. Tiffany was a good girl — she was an innocent like Lily, like Liz — and I was about to spoil her, dirty her up with my disease. My need to feel in control — to rule my emotions, to have my every, little, selfish, desire fulfilled — drew me into this bedroom, and it was my responsibility to stop it.
    “Okay, that should do it.” She smiled up at me; the dark lashes that framed her hazel eyes were thick and beautiful. Tiff’s black hair enhanced the milky white palate of her skin. The art on her arms and the ink that peeked out from under her collar made me want to trace every line with my finger… and then with my mouth. I wanted to discover what this little piece of perfection would feel like pressed against me. If her pussy tasted like orchids, too. “Seth? Did you want a towel?” She smirked at me like I was missing the point.
    “A towel?” I was confused. I’d obviously missed something.
    She giggled in a womanly way, a deep tone, and then snorted. “Fuck, Seth, yes. You’re soaked from the rain. I just asked you if you wanted a towel, and you just looked at me like I was stupid.” She laughed and grabbed a towel off the back of the door I assumed was a bathroom and threw it at me.
    I grabbed it and rubbed it through my hair. “You have a dryer? I could throw my shirt in. My pants are damp, but I’ll live.” There was no way in hell these pants were coming off. I had a feeling if I ever got more than that small taste I’d had in the car, I’d never get Tiffany out of my system.
    “Sure thing.”
    I reached behind my neck and pulled my shirt off. The strain in my muscles from the fight with Jace was still there. Tiffany’s gasp was almost inaudible as her eyes devoured my chest. I had been a quarterback in high school, and, as a man, I had always kept my physical body in peak condition. Even though I didn’t play sports anymore, going to the gym was a release for me.
    “Your ink is… extensive.” Her eyes searched the patterns over my chest and abs. I had recently started a full chest piece.
    “I’ve always loved Rodin’s “The Gates of Hell” and wanted to have something like it for my chest piece. The line work has been slow, but once it’s finished…“
    “It’ll be epic,” the words were a whisper. She gazed at me with awe. Tiff took a small step towards me and lightly let her fingertips trail across the tattoo. My flesh felt as if it would blister under her touch. She was lighting me up one wick at a time.
    “Tiff.” Her name was a whisper. Before I could stop her, before I had the chance to make this beautiful creature understand, she placed her lips against my chest in line with my heart. The muscles in