Текст книги "Sweet Sinful Nights"
Автор книги: Lauren Blakely
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
CHAPTER TWELVE
After the plates were cleared, Shannon declared the meal a feast. “I knew I asked the right man to get me into this delicious restaurant. It was amazing, and everything I hoped it would be,” she said, then launched into a new topic. “I watched a funny video before I met you for dinner.”
He raised an eyebrow in question. “I thought you weren’t into Internet videos?”
“I’m not. I only watch videos of my dance rehearsals, and I shoot most of those myself. But my friend Ally showed me a video she saw on Facebook. It’s this clip of a girl who grinds on her boyfriend in public while his hand is under her skirt, and they don’t even try to hide that he’s fingering her and getting her off.”
“I like getting you off,” he said with a naughty glint in his brown eyes.
“You cannot resist segueing back to dirty talk when I’m telling you a story.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, placing his palms together. “The story was about a guy making a girl come. Forgive me for thinking about making you come. It’s only my favorite thing in the entire world to do.”
She shot him a tell me more look.
“It’s a hobby I once practiced a few times a day,” he added. “One I’m very interested in taking up again.”
A ribbon of warmth spread through her chest, both from the suggestion of one of her favorite activities, too, but also from the way he was so quick on his toes, so fast with a joke. The man had always made her laugh. He was handsome as sin and funny as hell, and that combo had been all she’d ever needed. He had filled all the sad places inside her. He’d burrowed into her with his laughter and his wit, replacing her darkness with his light. Tonight, he was firing on all cylinders—his caring, tender side in full force, along with his clever one, not to mention that handsome side. In his jeans and long-sleeved Henley stretched tight across his chest, he was a sight to behold.
“Anyway, back to the video. So the funny part is they had no clue they’d been caught on camera, even though they were totally obvious. They thought they were being quiet and sneaky when he was trying to make her come.”
“I could make you come quietly,” he said with an easy shrug of his shoulder. “I can make you come loudly, too. I can make you come in pretty much any way.”
She scoffed. Not because it was untrue, but because he was so damn sure of himself. “Confident much?”
“Yeah, I am. I have the track record to prove it. You’re pretty much the only class I aced in college.”
She laughed, looking down at her lap. He was too much sometimes. “Straight As, Brent?”
“Hell no. Higher. I earned A-pluses across the board in your pleasure.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re relentless.”
He leaned forward across the table, flashing her that cocky grin she’d loved so much. “When it comes to delivering multiple orgasms for you, yes. Relentless is precisely what I am.”
She held up her hands. “Fine, fine. You win. You win for being the King of Distraction again. Because I was trying to tell you that watching this video made me think to go looking for videos of you.”
He straightened his spine and furrowed his brow. Excellent. She’d regained the thread of the conversation. “You looked for videos of me?”
“I did. I did a little Googling of Brent Nichols.”
For a second, he seemed unsure, nervous even. Then he returned to his cool, confident demeanor, leaning back in his chair. “Really? What else did you see?”
She dipped her hand into her purse, and took out the item she’d purchased at the candy store. A lollipop. She unwrapped it, taking her time peeling off the plastic as he watched her. His eyes darkened as she brought it to her lips, gently kissing the sucker.
His breath hissed. His eyes turned feral. This was what she wanted—him turned on and in the palm of her hand, and it had taken mere seconds. She flicked her tongue across the red candy, licking it once as he shifted in his chair. She pictured his cock standing at attention, straining against his jeans. She wondered if he still wore black boxer briefs like he’d worn in college. If he still looked hot in them as he did then, the outline of his dick so alluring when he’d take off his clothes for her. Her mouth watered as she pictured him unzipping his jeans, pushing down his briefs, his cock springing free.
Ready for her. Always ready for her
“But I need to correct you,” she said.
“About what?” His voice was husky.
“I’m not opposed to licking sweets off you.”
He sat up straight “You saw my bit?”
She nodded, then licked the red lollipop, swirling her tongue across the candy. She watched him as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Giving him away. But then he wasn’t trying to hide a single thing right now. She leaned across the table, lowered her voice to a whisper, and asked, “If I put my hand on you right now how hard would your dick be?”
“Rock fucking hard,” he said in a growl, the rough and sexy rumble of his admission sending a rush of heat between her legs.
She returned the sucker to her mouth, moving it back and forth between her lips. As she licked and kissed the candy, giving him a hell of a show, he stared at her with hungry eyes. In them, she saw the reel of his desires. All his dirty thoughts, all his dirty dreams—everything he wanted from her.
The waiter rushed by, dishes balanced on his arm.
“Check please,” Brent called out, and the man nodded, then continued on his way.
“Actually, allow me to clarify my feelings about sweets,” she said as she drew the lollipop all the way into her mouth, then let it pop out. “I’m not really a chocolate person. I’m more into the red, sugary candy. Like this sucker. I love how it tastes.” She paused, her eyes on him, then asked, “Do you wonder what my mouth tastes like right now?”
“Spectacular. I bet it tastes spectacular,” he answered, his voice strained, and full of heat. “Kiss me now,” he said, giving her a clear order. He leaned across the table and claimed her mouth, marked his territory with a passionate, crushing kiss that made her dizzy.
When he broke the kiss, the haze cleared and she returned to starring in her show. She kicked back in the chair, striking a casual, seductive pose as she sucked the candy deeply, reminding him of her talents.
He gripped the edge of the table. He inhaled through his nostrils. He looked as if he wanted to rip the table in two.
“You see, I’d be much more inclined to lick something like this off you.”
“A lollipop?”
“Candy, lollipop, anything sweet. By the way, how’s it going down there? A little tight in the jeans?”
“Unbelievably tight, but I don’t mind. Because my hard-on is within a few feet of my favorite place in the entire universe.
“My mouth?”
“Anywhere on you,” he corrected. “Your mouth. Your pussy. Your beautiful fucking ass,” he said, reminding Shannon that he’d explored her thoroughly. He was the only man she’d let take her any way he wanted, because she’d loved everything with him. She had given him all of her body, and he’d worshipped every inch of her.
“Mmm,” she moaned, licking her tongue across the sugary surface. She rolled her eyes in pleasure, then held the candy in the air. “I’m thinking of how much I miss the taste of you coming in my mouth.”
“I can gladly reacquaint you with that taste.”
“I like the way you feel hitting the back of my throat,” she said, dirty talking him as she swirled her tongue against the sucker, revving herself up as much as him, she was sure.
The waiter brought the check, and in a flash, Brent reached into his wallet, threw some bills on the table and gripped her elbow, leading her out of the restaurant. His fast pace and his firm hold told her that he wanted more, more than she was willing to give right now. She placed her hands on his chest, dropping the games for a moment. “I know what you’re thinking, but we can’t get a room. I’m not ready.”
A sliver of disappointment crossed his eyes, but was then replaced by that confident look she knew well. “Did I say I wanted a room?” he said, tossing the question at her like a dare. He shook his head, supplying the answer. “Nope. I’m just taking you to the fountains to watch their show. I thought that would be a nice end to this date.”
“Oh,” she said, frowning. She thought he’d take her to a bathroom, or find some quiet little nook where they could get frisky. But she couldn’t argue with the view either, once they’d stepped outside and walked across the palazzo to the fountains at the Bellagio. “I love the fountains,” she said softly.
“I know you do,” he said, his voice matching hers.
The warm June air caressed the bare skin of her shoulders. She leaned against the stone railing that edged the gorgeous water display. He stood next to her, wrapped an arm around her, and tugged her close. His erection pressed against her thigh. “I did all that to you,” she said in a naughty voice. “Just from talking about blowing you.”
“You know I love your blow jobs.”
“I wish I could give you one right now,” she whispered, as she pushed her rear against his hard-on. He groaned.
“Yeah, it’s hard to give a blow job in public without being like that couple in the video. But this is doable,” he said, then he shifted her so her back was aligned with his chest. He crowded her in, standing behind her. The stone wall blocked any view of her from the front, and he was shielding her back.
“Brent.”
He pushed against her once more, the outline of his erection nudging her back. The feel of his hard length thrilled her, even as he got closer than she was used to in public. A low moan escaped her lips, and instantly his mouth was on her ear. “You be quiet now,” he whispered harshly. He slipped a hand under the soft material of her top, pressing gently against her belly. “If you’re loud, someone might record you, and you’d hate that.”
Before she could protest, he slid his hand from her belly to inside the front of her skirt.
She nearly gasped out loud before clamping her lips shut and swallowing the murmur of pleasure. His fingers danced across the outline of her underwear. “I would hate it,” she whispered, giving in to him, to his touch. He caged her in, his big, strong body shielding her. Her belly was flush against the hard stone railing, and as the gorgeous fountains began their nighttime ballet, he dragged his fingers across the lacy fabric of her panties.
She ached for him. He neared her throbbing clit, and the desperation inside her intensified. All that sucking, licking, and teasing she’d done with the candy had turned her on fiercely. Tempting him had heated her up, and she was operating at high levels of lust already.
He kissed her earlobe softly. “Don’t make a sound. Don’t say a word. Don’t let anyone know but me.”
She nodded her agreement. He lined his body firmly against her. God, how she wanted to feel him slide into her. To fill her completely. She was ready for him, so slick and liquid.
His hand made its way inside the waistband of her panties, then lower and lower still, and... oh dear God... his fingers were on a fast track for her hot, wet center. When he glided them across her, she nearly screamed.
“Was it all that sucking that got you this hot?” he whispered as he stroked.
“The sucking and the talking and now the touching,” she answered quietly as she shuddered in his arms.
He stopped his movements. “Hold still, babe.”
“I will.”
“Promise me you can stay still or I’ll have to stop.”
The prospect of him stopping was horrible. She was dying for his touch, for him to get her off as only he could. “Promise.”
“Good. Because all this wetness is fucking perfect for my fingers to slide through,” he said in her ear, so low only she could hear as he stroked her. “All this fucking beautiful wetness. I want to feel you grabbing my dick with this sweet wet pussy.”
“Me, too,” she whispered, and started to rock her hips into his hand.
He tsked her in her ear. “Don’t do that. You don’t want to be the girl on the video.”
“I don’t,” she said softly, her voice trance-like, her body overcome with silver sparks of desire as he rubbed his fingers across her heat. She drew a breath, as if that would give her the ability to stay still. She stood rigid and tense against the stone, even though she wanted to let go, to give in. She held in all the anticipation as he stroked faster, more expertly.
She bit her lip, driving her teeth sharply into her own flesh to hold back all the sounds eager to fly from her lips. She wanted to close her eyes, to rub against him, to moan and groan and sing out his name. But she refrained because she wanted one thing even more.
To come.
* * *
She was hotter than she’d ever been. Slippery wetness coated his fingers. Her slick heat was all over him. Her panties were useless. He was dying to rip them off her, hoist her up on this railing, spread her wide and properly worship her perfect pussy. But this was a high, too—her, ramrod straight, hiding her pleasure, fighting back her screams. It was such a thrill. Her need to come was intoxicating. Her ability to stay quiet was so impressive, when he knew how much she wanted to move. He slid his fingers across those delicious pussy lips, wet and warm and inviting. She trembled against him as he stroked up and down, then focused on her swollen clit, so needy, so hungry for his touch. He rubbed his finger against her, and he could feel the way tension tightened in her body as she neared the edge.
“Don’t move, Shan,” he commanded. “I know you want to. I know you want to ride my hand so badly right now, don’t you?”
She nodded the back of her head against his chest.
“You want to fuck my hand like the wild woman you are.”
Another nod.
“And it’ll be even harder for you to hold back when I slide my fingers into you,” he said. Her shoulders rose up in a sharp line of tension. Her beautiful body was strung tight, stretched to the limits of her own desire, her own sexuality. He loved knowing how to play her, how to touch her, how to send her into a land of bliss.
So he did as promised as the sprays of water soared higher, and the music grew louder. Crowds surrounded them, but he didn’t care. No one could tell his hand was in his favorite place, and no one knew the gorgeous brunette in his arms was seconds away from nirvana. He slid two fingers deep into her. She gripped him and started to move her hips.
He brushed his mouth against her ear, and spoke sharply. “You move, I stop. You want me to stop?”
“No,” she said, breathy, so desperate.
“You want to come?” he growled.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I’m not going to cover your mouth,” he said, in a warning. “And I’m not going to let you bite down on my arm. You’re just going to be quiet. Got it?”
She murmured something that sounded close to a yes. He thrust deeper, his thumb rubbing her gorgeous clit, and her body tightened. “Yeah, babe. Come on my fingers. Let me feel you come all over my hand,” he said, and she clenched tightly around him, her body shuddering in his arms.
He watched her face, her gorgeous, beautiful face, as she squeezed her eyes shut, and nearly sealed her lips together to zip up her cries as she came on his fingers.
As she trembled, he uncurled her fist from around the lollipop she’d been gripping tightly in her hand. He brought the candy to his mouth and licked it once, smacking his lips.
“Mmm. You’re right. That is delicious.”
* * *
Later, as he walked her to her ride, he didn’t press. He didn’t ask again if he was forgiven. Instead, he kept moving forward, because that was what they were doing.
“When I was in New York, I saw a sign for the Alvin Ailey dance company on tour,” he said.
Her eyes lit up. “I love Alvin Ailey. It was my dream to win a spot in Alvin Ailey.”
“I know. And I remember in college you wanted me to go with you. But I had a gig so I cancelled on you.”
Her smile erased itself. The memory of another one of his dick moves must have just returned to her. He kept talking, eager to right that wrong from years ago. “So I bought tickets to see them here next week. I’d really like to take you. And I will keep my promise to take you.”
She looped her arms around his neck. “Yes. I would love to go with you.”
He wanted to pump his fist in the air, to shout a victorious yes. Then he wanted to close his eyes and groan in pleasure, because she was running her fingers through his hair. He loved the feel of her hands in his hair.
“You really know how to treat a woman you used to go out with, don’t you?”
“Speaking of that,” he said, pulling back and cupping his hands on her shoulders. Tonight had gone so well, and he wanted to build on it. To keep up the momentum. To do that, they’d need to let go of the old wounds. “Shan, how would you feel if we agreed to move on from the past?”
“To put it behind us?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Are you asking if you’re forgiven?”
“Kind of,” he admitted with a small grin, hoping it might help his cause.
She looked him square in the eyes. The corners of her lips curved up, as if she was considering his request. He held his breath, waiting for her answer. Then it came, as she nodded. “I think we could both use a fresh start, so let’s focus on the here and now, not the way things were.”
He smiled broadly. “Good. So we’re dating then,” he said as they reached the front of the Bellagio where her ride was pulling up. He’d parked his Indian Dark Horse there, too.
“I think it’s best if we don’t label what’s happening between us.”
He could live with not labeling. But he couldn’t live with the possibility that someone else might try to date her. He had to lay down one ground rule. “I’m fine with not labeling, as long as the not-label includes not dating other men.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Or other women.”
“Yes. That, too. I don’t want you dating men or women. Good point,” he said, in mock seriousness.
She wagged a finger at him. “You know exactly what I meant.”
As he said goodnight, he couldn’t help but hold tight to those words—what’s happening between us.
Labels or not, something was definitely happening. As he straddled his bike, and tugged on his helmet to ride home, he was determined to make sure nothing stood in the way of him loving this woman again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Not labeling what was happening was pointless.
They were clearly dating again. Shannon couldn’t even try to pretend it was anything but real, honest-to-goodness dating. As if they had just met, and were so taken with each other they had to see each other every day. That kind of dating.
It was scary and amazingly fun at the same time.
On Monday, she visited Edge in the morning with her assistant choreographer, Christine, to make notes on the space, since the layout was similar to the club in San Francisco. James showed them around, but Brent popped out of his office to say hello.
“Hey, Shay. Good to see you,” he said, as he walked to the other end of the club. While she wasn’t worried for her safety per se, or that clients would pull contracts if they learned her real name, she simply preferred the new one in business matters. The fact that Brent moved fluidly between the two warmed her heart. After they reviewed the plans for the show, Christine said she needed to return to the studio to rehearse the dancers, and James had other meetings to attend.
As Shannon walked to the exit, Brent caught up with her. “Can I interest you in lunch?”
“You can definitely interest me in lunch.”
Saying yes was easy. Saying yes felt right.
After they finished pho and chicken dumplings at an upscale Vietnamese restaurant on the Luxe’s property, he told her he had a gift for her.
“You really don’t have to give me anything,” she said as the waiter cleared their plates, even though inside she was delighted. She adored his zest for giving her sweet little things.
“I know, but truth be told, it’s not something I can control. My desire to give you gifts, that is.” He reached into the pocket of his jeans. “I come from a long line of gift-giving men. It’s in my blood and it can’t be bred out of me.”
He handed her a small, champagne-colored drawstring pouch. She’d never had much growing up, and she’d learned to live with that. But perhaps that was why Brent’s generosity had thrilled her so much—it was all so new and fresh and fun.
It still was. With quick, eager fingers, she untied the bag and plucked out a pretty rose-gold bracelet. She gasped. It matched the silver one that she wore every day. It wasn’t too gangly or too busy. Simple and stylish, it was just right for her, and for how she chose to dress these days.
“I noticed you started wearing bracelets,” he said as he stretched his arm across the back of the booth, looking so casual and confident, but also hopeful. He clearly wanted her to like his gift. “You never did before, but you do now, so I picked this out for you.”
“I love it,” she said softly, her gaze on him. “So much.”
His brown eyes seemed to sparkle at her response, and warmth rushed through her from knowing this simple give and take, this little back and forth, seemed to matter. It was only lunch, but it was suddenly more.
She held out her wrist, letting him clasp the jewelry on her. Instantly, the moment shot her back in time to another night when he gave her jewelry. A ring.
The night he’d proposed he’d taken her ice-skating. It was a sport she could still do well enough in spite of her injury. She’d shown off for him, gliding and spinning across the rink while he’d skated…well, the way most men who weren’t hockey players or professional skaters skate. Clumsily.
It hadn’t bothered him, though. He’d laughed at his own clunkiness. He was never one to embarrass easily, if at all. On a long circle around the rink, he stumbled like a cartoon character whose feet spun wildly beneath him, then he fell. It had been an awkward, flat-on-his ass tumble, and she laughed even harder as she glided over to him.
“Pull me up,” he said, still cracking up. She offered her hand, and tugged him. He made it to only one knee. All laughter had stopped and the moment had turned both serious and breathtakingly romantic at the same time when he said, “I meant to do that. And I mean to do this, too. I am so madly in love with you and I want us to be together now, and next year, and always. I want a life with you, and I’ve never been more certain of anything.”
She fell to her knees, tears streaking down her cheeks, and kissed his face. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
Amazing how, in spite of what she saw happen to her parents, she’d never had a single doubt about Brent. She had wanted to be his wife as much as she had wanted to dance—a pure, perfect, passionate love. She’d loved him more than she’d thought possible.
As she gazed at the new bracelet on her wrist, she blinked away the memory, and the tear that was threatening to slip from her eye. The past was behind her. She couldn’t linger on what they might have had before. She knew the ending to that story. Besides, past love was no indication of future choices. Her mother had loved her father. All her parents’ friends and family had been shocked when her mother was arrested, because they could recall so many happy days between Dora and Thomas.
When had Dora crossed the line from loving mother to killer wife? Was there a switch that had flipped in her, or had the possibility always been there, latent through the years? Her mother hadn’t been a murderer when she’d walked down the aisle, or when she’d given birth, or when she’d attended Shannon’s early recitals. Shannon could still remember so many moments during her younger years, back when her parents cared for each other, before their marriage turned bitter, before her mother started cheating on her husband with a well-liked local piano teacher.
The past was meaningless. The present was the only thing that mattered.
But, even so, the hardened part of her fragile heart took some comfort in the fact that she was different from her mother. She loved this bracelet because it was from this man, not because of what it might have cost.
This present—her present—was something she could embrace right now. So she moved to the other side of the table, ran her hand through his hair and whispered, “I always loved your gifts, and I still do. Because they’re from you.”
* * *
On Wednesday, Brent invited Shannon to the Thai restaurant at the Luxe. There was something so freeing, in a way, about the pattern they seemed to fall into with lunch. He hadn’t intended it, but these brief moments in the middle of the workday, with a clear beginning and a clear end, were perfect for getting to know her again. That was what Shannon seemed to need to let him into her heart again.
Or to get to know him anew.
Because she turned the questions on him.
“Why did you leave comedy?” she asked as she rested her chin in her hands at the table and looked at him, a curious expression in those green eyes. There was no judgment in her tone—no caustic retort like the first night he’d seen her again. Just a simple question, and one he’d been asked by many others when he’d announced he was leaving his show.
But still.
His fork froze in midair over the chicken pumpkin curry. “Why?” he repeated, stalling for time.
She nodded. “You were so successful, so popular. It’s odd why you’d leave when you were the toast of the town. Inquiring minds want to know,” she said with a bat of her eyes.
His muscles tensed, a visceral response to the one topic he didn’t want to get into with her. There wasn’t some awful secret he was sequestering away. He wasn’t kicked off the network for banging an intern. He wasn’t given the boot for sniffing coke on his desk before his monologue. And he wasn’t found skimming off the top of the ad revenue his show raked in.
Nope.
But he feared the truth would make him look bad.
Unreliable. Disloyal. The kind of guy you can’t lean on. The kind of guy he was fighting to show her that he wasn’t.
He looked away, staring at the golden Thai dragon on the wall, at the red embroidered jacket behind the hostess stand, then at the sea of busy tables and booths full of tourists, high-rollers, and Vegas businessman and women doing deals at the Luxe.
Brent pulled his eyes away from the crowd and back to Shannon. Her long brown hair fell loosely around her face, so different from the short, fresh-faced style she’d had in college. She was different too. Tougher than she’d been back then, but softer as well. More vulnerable, too, at times.
He briefly considered his answer. He could easily spin a quick tale about loving the nightclub business, and while that was true, he’d lost her once before by being less than honest. He wanted to show her that he’d changed—by giving her the full truth, warts and all.
He inhaled deeply, and steeled himself. “Look, I could make up a nice story, Shan. I could tell you something about how I’ve always craved the challenge of running a club, and some of that is true. Because I do love Edge, and building it has been exciting and I’ve enjoyed it. But the truth is, I left comedy because I didn’t want to wear out my welcome.”
She tilted her head to the side. “How so?”
He launched into the backstory of his show. “My show had record ratings. It was the biggest show on cable. It was beating broadcast some nights. It was the kind of gig most entertainers would’ve held onto forever. For years. It was the type of job you’d ordinarily have to pull someone away from kicking and screaming.” An image of the Hollywood trade articles on his departure popped into his head. The entertainment industry and the viewers had been shocked that he left after only three years. “But I wanted to go out on top. I didn’t want anyone to cringe when I did my monologue. I didn’t want anyone to say, his jokes are stale, or, he’s phoning it in.”
She nodded a few times, as if she was processing his decision. “I get it. You wanted to leave on your own terms. But why would it bother me?”
Okay, he was just going to have to spell it out, no matter how bad it made him look. “Because I was worried you’d think it proves I don’t stick around. That when the going gets tough, I pack up and get out of Dodge. That I leave before things can turn difficult,” he said, the words tasting bitter. His own indictment of himself.
She didn’t speak at first. In her silence he wanted to kick himself for having spoken so honestly. Maybe he should have given her his canned line—I was ready for a new challenge.
“Does it mean that?” she asked, but her tone wasn’t cutting. It was earnest. “That you don’t stick around when things get tough?”
He shook his head several times for emphasis. “I don’t think so. I don’t regret leaving the show, but I think—at least I hope—that I’ve learned that what might be a good philosophy in business isn’t necessarily a good way to approach relationships.”
She flashed him a sliver of a smile, and in it he felt exonerated. Not from the choice to step down, but from the prospect that she was only going to see him as a certain type of guy. He felt like he’d shed some of the bad reputation that might prevent her from trusting him again.
“I’m glad you’re being honest with me now, and that you’re changing,” she said. “We all are, aren’t we? Changing? I know I am. I’m trying not to see people for the things they might do. I’m trying to believe in second chances, as my grandma would say, and to focus my energies on that.”
“She’s the smartest woman I know. I agree with everything she says,” he said, slicing a hand through the air as if making a declaration, and Shannon laughed.
“But I noticed one thing about you hasn’t changed...” she said, letting her voice trail off.
“Besides my stunning good looks, strapping build, and huge cock?”
She rolled her eyes and burst out laughing. “I have no idea if your dick is still huge.”
“You could find out.”
“Sure, whip it out right now, Brent,” she said, leaning back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. Daring him. God, he loved this about her. She went toe to toe with him.
He lowered his hands to his crotch, and pretended he was getting ready to unzip his jeans.
“Kidding! I’m kidding,” she said, and he stopped. “Anyway, what I was getting at is this.” She pushed up his shirtsleeve, her fingers tracing the sunburst on his forearm. His skin sizzled under her touch, and matters south of the border grew harder as she stroked the ink on his skin. She trailed her fingertips across the tribal bands. “You have the same ink you had in college. You never got any more?”
