He blinks, his face red and angry until he realizes it’s me. “Zia?” He looks around, even more confused. “Do you know who did it? Let me up. I’ll help you kick their ass.”
“Did it? Oh, the kidnapping. That was me,” I share casually as I prop my chin on my hand as he stares at me.
“I don’t understand.” His chest heaves from his exhaustion, and I play with the edges of his shirt.
“Do you want to know what I realized today?” I muse.
“Zia, baby, what’s going on?” he asks, but he’s stopped fighting.
“I realized that you are far too fucking sexy to be dancing around a ring half naked for everyone to see. I realized that I didn’t like people looking at you with thoughts of touching what’s mine.” I meet his gaze as I tug his shirt up above his chest, exposing his muscles. I press my nails into his abs, making him hiss, but I feel him grow hard against me.
“Baby, I don’t know what’s happening. Just let me up?—”
“No, I don’t think I will.” I swing my leg up so I can straddle him, and he groans, lifting his hips as he watches me. “Right outside this room is the best tattoo artist in all of Pine Valley.”
“Tattoo artist?” His words are slow as he rolls his hips, distracted by his desire. He glances around the space again, realizing it’s a studio. “Why?”
“Because I don’t like my toys to be stolen,” I warn. “I print my name on everything—my house, my gate, my bank, and my cars. Everything I own has my name on it, and so will you.”
“You . . . You want to tattoo your name on me?”
“Not want. I will.” I lean in and brush my mouth down his incredible chest as he moans. “Right here, I think.” I lick his abs. “So every time they ogle you, they will see it and know you belong to me. Nobody will ever get any ideas of taking what’s mine.”
“Zia, I’m yours anyway.”
I bite down, and he yells, then I arch an eyebrow. “You wanted to be mine, didn’t you?”
“Of course, but this is crazy. You don’t need to tattoo me,” he grumbles as he tugs on his hands. “Let me go.”
“I already said no,” I retort. “You’re going to wear my name one way or another, unless you don’t want to be owned by me? Unless you want everyone ogling you, thinking you could be theirs?” I challenge as I grip his throat.
His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t fight me, his lips tilting in a smile. “Do it. Go ahead. I don’t care. I’ll wear it proudly if that’s what you want, baby. Do it. I dare you.”
I bite his lip until it bleeds. “You should know better than to dare a man like me, Nikko.”
Sliding from his body, I open the door to the artist who waits nervously. He’s a skinny guy with glasses and messy, curly hair. He’s attractive in an indie sort of way, but his art is incredible, and I only want the best for my boy. “Come in, he’s ready.” I step back, and he eyes Nikko and me.
“I have to ask for consent,” he explains carefully.
Stepping closer to Nikko, I smack his side since his eyes are tracking me hungrily, ignoring everything else. “You heard him.”
“I consent for you to tattoo me with whatever Zia wants,” Nikko tells the man as he looks at me. “Anything. As long as it makes him happy.”
Narrowing my eyes, I step back so the artist can set up, and then he holds the machine over Nikko’s abs. “Are you ready? Let me know if you need a break.”
“I don’t. Do it,” Nikko says without looking away from me. We keep eye contact as the machine buzzes. The only sign he feels it is the slight tightening around his eyes. We don’t speak for the first ten minutes or so. We just stare at each other.
I expected him to back out, call me crazy, and break up with me, but if anything, he seems smug.
“What’s with that look?” I snap.
“You know what this means, right?” he responds.
“What?”
“You love me.” My eyes widen as he grins. “You didn’t even care this much with Faiz, but you kidnapped me to let everyone know I’m yours. That means you love me a whole fucking lot.” His grin widens. “Tattoo every inch of me if that’s what you want. I’ll wear it because it means I’m yours and you’re finally mine.”
“Or I’m just possessive of my toys,” I snarl.
