Thick clouds loomed over my head as I stepped out of the cab and made my way towards Jake's house. He had texted me earlier that he wanted to spend some time alone, but after coming face to face with all that he had been hiding, I couldn't stop myself from seeking him out. The cool breeze brushed my exposed skin admitting the upcoming storm. As per the weather report that flashed in my cellphone's screensaver, it was going to downpour.

I slung my backpack over my shoulder after sending out a quick update to my mom. This time I didn't waste a second to admire the details of my surrounding as I walked through the driveway of his house. I pressed the buzzer on his entrance, and as soon as the doors opened, I rushed through the foyer towards the staircase, taking two stairs at a time. My heart thudded loudly against my chest as I passed the series of doors in the corridor before reaching the loft area.

There was no more hiding, no more secrets to bare or no more self-indulgence from him. I finally knew about the darkness that he had been hiding. I should have known why he was so close to Brinda.

And now I knew why he shouldn't be punishing himself for everything.

His room was dark with curtains drawn, and my eyes scanned the room for his familiar presence as I finally stopped at the glass slider leading to the sunroom. I leaned against the door frame to watch the passionate look on his face. His black curls pulled back in a man bun of the sexiest existence. My heart warmed up to see him behind the easel, his eyes bright with concentration as he moved the paintbrush on the canvas. I realized it was my first time watching him paint, his exposed torso covered in patches of colors.

A smile appeared on my face when he dipped his paintbrush in the palette, wiping away the sweat on his forehead with his other hand, then right back into the canvas. From the breathtaking ink on his skin to the scars that covered his body, everything looked perfect.

I felt a sharp sting in my heart with the memory of all those horrible things this man went through. Yet, he survived. He had a beautiful heart hidden from others. I brushed away the tears that trickled down my cheeks and swallowed the lump that formed in my throat.

There was no other place I would rather be than his heart. I loved him with all my passion.

"Are you going to stand there and stare at me, creeper," his deep voice acted as a magnet. I slid down my backpack on the floor beside me and rushed towards him. He was surprised at first but steadied me as I crawled on his lap and buried my tear-stained face in the crook of his neck. His scent settled some of the aches in my heart. "Yes, this works too. But should I be scared?"

"Yes," I breathed, still trying to stop the tears that were now wetting his shoulder. "I love you so much that it hurts."

His hands tightened around my back, and he placed a deep kiss on my head. "I'm fucking in love with you too, Amy. And I would die before I hurt you."

I finally peeled my head off his neck and looked into his charcoal eyes, which looked soft and gentle for the first time. I cupped his face with my hand and brought my lips to the scar on his forehead.

He stilled underneath my touch for a second, closing his eyes, moving one of his hands from my waist to my face, then brushed my cheek lightly. "I told you, Amy, your tears kill me."

"It wasn't your fault, Jacob. All this time, you've been punishing the wrong person. It wasn't you." I looked him in the eyes, my eyelashes damp with fresh tears. "It's not fair."

He shook his head, letting out an exasperated breath. "How did you know?"

"Seb, he told me everything," I said, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "Anna was behind the wheels that day. It wasn't you, but you keep punishing yourself. It's not fair, Jacob. It's not fucking fair."

"Oh, Amy," he said, placing his forehead against mine. "But it was my fault that I let her drive the car because I was too drunk to care. It was my fault that I couldn't think better or do better. It was my fault that I couldn't protect her or Ethan. And it's my fault that a mother lost her son, a brother lost his sister, and I lost my best friend."

"No, it wasn't your fault." I ran my hand over his hair, feeling the softness of his curls and wondering that it was nothing compared to his heart.

He grimaced, and then his forehead was back on mine. "Anna wanted to be a doctor. She dreamt of saving lives. She always believed that there's nothing more holy than giving a new life to someone. I can't let her carry this regret to the afterlife." He drew in two rapid breaths. "We were at this graduation party. I was too shit-faced by the end of the party that I could barely keep my eyes open. Anna, she wasn't lightweight like me. She said she could handle a couple of tequila shots, and I believed her. I shouldn't have believed her."

My heart leaped into my throat as he let out a wet chuckle. I wiped his tears with my thumb as he squeezed his eyes shut and blew out the pain. "I watched her choke to death, her bloody disfigured face and stayed with her lifeless body for hours before the paramedics arrived. At that moment, between life and death, I lost a part of me. Since then, I'm walking around as someone who could get past those ugly pieces only to become those ugly pieces himself."

I moved my hand down to his heart. "There's nothing ugly about you."

"I tried, Amy," he groaned. "Fuck." He cursed under his ragged breath, clenching his fist and bit on them as he gritted his words out. "I tried to stop the car from crashing down, but I couldn't. It was too late."

Tears pooled in my eyes, and I tried my best to swallow them, but they slipped past silently.

"I didn't want Anna's last memory of this world to be as some drunk driver who took someone's life. So, I had to do it. I had to do it." He exhaled, taking in a shuddering breath. "I couldn't make it to her funeral. They buried her without me. My father blamed the other party. He did pay the compensation, though. But Brinda couldn't bargain her son's death with the compensation money."

"Then you brought her to the Retirement house," I said, remembering the story I heard from one of the inmates there.

He nodded, then his head rested on my neck, and his arms tightened around my waist. "She was not well when I met her. I went to her house after I recovered from my injuries. Her bills pilled up outside her one-bedroom apartment, and from her pale appearance, I could tell that she was still mourning her son. I felt sick to my guts when I saw my reflection in her fading eyes. At first, I wanted to confess everything, but then I knew she would never take my help if I told her the truth. And I didn't. I couldn't."

"Jacob," I started but didn't know what to tell him or how to comfort him. No words came out of my mouth as I hugged him tightly while he relaxed in my embrace.

That's when I turned around and let my eyes capture the masterpiece he had created on the canvas. Painful, aging eyes with lines of loss and longing marked the beautiful face of a hurting mother. It was Brinda. He had captured her in his painting, and man, was he the perfect. I hovered my index finger on the drying paint, careful not to touch it and a smile appeared on my face. "You painted her."

"I had to," he said. "I couldn't paint after the accident. I couldn't go back to the person I was before, and the painting always brought back the memories of that night." He raised his head to look into my eyes. "Then you came, and the desire to paint came back too. I wanted my light back."

"You always had light in you but never acknowledged it."

He played with my hair and smiled, letting those black irises cage me to him. "I didn't know how to seek out that light, but you always did."

"There's something I want to tell you," I whispered in his ear. "A secret I had been keeping all this time."

His eyes were calm as he raised an eyebrow and smirked. "I always knew you are a sneaky little bird. So tell me, what secrets are you hiding."

"Hey, I'm not sneaky," I smacked his bicep, earning myself a small laugh. "Not now, I'll tell you after it's fully baked."

His fingers gripped my waist and pulled me against his chest. "It better not be a high school lover."

"Oh, it's not," I let out a chuckle, diving in for a quick kiss.

"Good, because otherwise, I would've to deal with him," his words danced on my lips.

Thunder rumbled outside, and soon we could hear the light tapping of rain against the windows. His hands held me against his warm chest as I rested my head and relaxed hearing his heartbeat. I closed my eyes, slowly falling into sleep but something slick and cold against my skin had me opening my eyes.

I tried to pull my head up from his chest, but he pushed it right back and continued gliding the paintbrush over my hand. "Let me finish it, then you can see."

"What? Are you running out of canvas?"

"No, but your skin looked tempting enough." He teased, his strokes on my skin tickled a little.

I hummed, closing my eyes again and inhaling the scent of rain and paint mixed with his cologne. After a few more strokes and what I could barely make as the letter, 'A' had my curiosity.

"Done," he said, flashing the same cocky smile that I had come to love the most. He threw the brush over his shoulder, pulled my painted wrist to his mouth, lips almost touching as he blew his hot breath over my tingling skin. All the while, his eyes locked with mine, sending pleasurable shivers in every nerve cells. "I've itched my initials on your skin, and you must know that every canvas I sign becomes a part of me, mind, heart, and soul."

My eyes took in the initials 'JAG' painted in vibrant red color in his so very unique cursive handwriting. I look at the letters, tilting my head a little to make sense of it. "JAG," I whispered.

"Yes, August is my middle name," he said, brushing his fingers over the dried paint on my skin. "Jacob August Green."

I shook my head and smiled as he finally kissed his name on my skin, happiness bursting through his charcoal eyes. "You know it's not permanent, right."

"Yes, not on the skin, but I'm trying to build a deeper connection here. Cut me some slack, will you?" He stood from his drafting stool with me in his arms and walking us towards the bedroom.

After walking us out of his art studio, he put me back on my feet and embraced me in a fierce hug leaving me breathless. And as we pulled away from the embrace and he looked down at me, I saw the pain again. "Thank you for being here, Amy. Thank you for not being my fix but so much more than that."

"Come here," I said, pulling him down by his neck and connecting our lips in a most adorable kiss. He kissed my lips, my temples, my nose, pressing our foreheads together.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, pulling out towels from the dresser and tossing one in my direction. "Take a shower while I cook something for us. You have paint all over you, courtesy to me."

I frowned at his words, looking down at the white tee I was wearing, which certainly had some artistic touch to it now, along with patches of red, yellow, green, and every other shade that covered Jake's body too. A smile appeared on his face as he walked up to me, held my wrist, then ran his thumb over the letters he had painted there and bent down to whisper in my ear, "Cover this up for me when you shower, don't wash it off. Okay?"

"Okay," I mumbled, closing my eyes, and when I opened them, he was out of the room.

After spending a good twenty minutes in the shower, I came out wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe I borrowed from his dresser. In the middle of me trying to dry off my wet hair, Jake walked into the room with a tray in his hand and gave me a once-over before placing it on the bedside table. His hair was free of the man bun, slightly wet from the shower, and he was walking around bare-chested, making it difficult not to look at his tatted and scarred muscles.

He walked towards me, and my hand stopped midway, the towel slipping away from my fingers. I was suddenly nervous under the intensity of his dark eyes. Very swiftly, he held my wrist, making sure his art was still there on my skin, then a small smile broke on his lips. "Come, let's eat."

He pulled me towards his bed and set the tray beside me with grilled cheese sandwiches and a glass of orange juice, just one. The sight of sandwiches had my stomach growling, and for the next few minutes, all I could think of was food. Jake shook his head and released a low chuckle. While I got consumed in gulping down the half left juice by him, he pulled out his laptop and notebook from the drawer. He kicked off his slippers and sat against the headboard almost immediately.

"What are you doing?" I asked, puzzled, setting aside the empty glass.

He looked up at me and then reached out for my waist, pulling me to his side. "We've got a lot to cover for the finals, and that's what we're going to do. Now stop frowning and join me for the couple study."

"Couple study, huh?" I laughed, sliding beside me on my side and leaning my head on his shoulder.

"Yes, Amy," Amusement danced in his eyes as he uncapped a pen with his mouth, setting the backside into its cap and handing it to me. "After each module, we can take a break and get out recharge. Just so, we remember each word precisely forever. How does that sound?"

The smile that followed his words was enough for me to start right away.

"Sounds like a fun idea," I said, crossing my legs at the ankles, unknowingly giving him a glance of my thigh through the slit of the bathrobe.

"Oh, fuck it!" he grumbled, tossing the laptop aside and moved over me, untying the knot of my bathrobe and touching his lips to my skin in a most gentle kiss. "Let's get our recharge first," he whispered, nibbling my ear and sliding his hand to my chest, cupping my breast gingerly.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked breathlessly, looking into my eyes, and that alone was enough to turn me on.

"No, just kiss me already," I groaned, pulling his mouth on mine in a demanding kiss.

My eyes captured the trail of ink on his shoulder as he kissed down a path from my neck to my collarbone, making me shudder beneath him. I let my fingers trace the letters, "Thy Soul Shall Burn," and my heart almost stopped for a second with the pain he carried with those words.

I brushed his soft hair and lifted his head to look into his black orbs. The way his eyes drank me with so much love, respect, and adoration, I fell in love with him all over again.

"Thy soul shall be loved and treasured but never burnt, not with me," I said against his lips. "Not with me."

Taking my wrist in his hold and kissing the initials of his name painted on my skin, I saw a glimmer of tears in his eyes as he whispered against my lips, "It will always be us, Amy."

My heart hammered with the overwhelming emotions that surrounded us. How could love feel that magical? It was nothing less than a fantasy. The reality was much more enigmatic.

He kissed the tears that fell down the corners of my eyes, swallowing them, and lowered his forehead to mine. We didn't speak much after that as he bent down and kissed me breathless, making me wrap my hands around his neck as he nibbled my ear, my neck, and pressed our bodies together in desperate need.

I wrapped my legs around his waist as he held both of my hands over my head, his thumb brushing the dried paint on my wrist, and then we were absorbed into each other. He entered me, fitting us together in an agonizingly slow but languid pace. We both groaned as our lips sought each other, kissing, gasping, and devouring. He let himself be exposed, vulnerable, and so very fragile, letting me feel his emotions as our bodies connected along with our souls.

It was in that raw, vulnerable, and most basic moment that I felt the words we delivered with each of our movements.

I love you.

Please be mine forever.

I already am.

You belong with me.

Only you.