She pulls her shoulders back, giving me space to cup both breasts.
“Your nipples are perfect.”
“Don’t get any ideas.” She glances at my hands. “No steel through my nips.”
“Titanium?” I lean forward and suck one nipple between my lips.
She laughs, then gasps. “No way.”
“They’re very sensitive. You might enjoy it.”
“I might enjoy a lot of things I’m not going to try.” She sits up straighter and holds out her unmarked arm. “I thought about maybe getting a tattoo, though.”
I circle my fingers around her wrist and tug her closer. “What’d you have in mind?” One corner of my mouth slides up. “Let me guess—crows?”
“Yes!” She grins and bounces slightly.
Her enthusiasm is a shot of sunlight straight to the darkest spaces in my chest. I drag her back down, settling her on top of me, her hair falling like a curtain around us.
“What are you thinking?” I ask. “An attempted murder…or a full-on mass murder?”
She grins at my goofy crow pun, then rests her chin on her folded hands. “I haven’t decided if I want a big artistic piece—a proper murder of crows—or just one sad little black crow all by himself.”
“Crows,” I murmur, brushing my fingertips along her spine. “Figures. Little curious crow.”
She scrunches her nose at me. “You know it’s perfect for me.”
“It is,” I agree. “When you’re ready, I can help you.” I pinch my fingers together and trace an invisible line along her shoulder. “I’ll sketch something.”
“A Declan Sterling original?”
It sounds so silly the way she says it; I duck my head to the side. “Yeah, yeah.”
I pull the blanket higher around us and lazily slide my hand up and down her back, nothing urgent, only the slow, familiar claiming my body seems to do on its own around her.
Her breaths soften, her body sinks into mine, her amusement tapering into a sleepy hum.
“Tired?” I whisper.
“No,” she mumbles. “Content. Very content.” She nuzzles against my chest. “And maybe a little exhausted.”
A smug rumble of laughter escapes before I can stop it.
“Cocky,” she scolds, tickling her fingers over my hip.
“You know it.” I capture her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing her knuckles.
She sighs, a soft, content breath.
“We can talk body mods in the morning.” I tuck her closer to me and brush my lips over her forehead.
“You make a nice pillow.” She kisses my chest.
“Not going anywhere.”
After a few minutes her breathing evens out and slows.
I stare at the ceiling, one arm locked around her. The faint warmth of the curse prickles against my ribs. I should be worried about what’s coming for her.
