I traced my hand up her arm and under her chin, forcing her to look at me. She was breathing shallow with her mouth ajar, and when her pink tongue darted out to lick her lips, I had to hold back a groan.
“It’s not a big deal. These things are going to happen.”The uncertainty in her eyes flipped my stomach. I didn’t care if she walked in on me. “We can check awkward half-naked moment off the list. I’m just sorry the sight of my chest horrifies you enough to run away,” I joked. Hoping to see that smile.
The right side of her mouth turned up enough to ease my nervousness, and her eyes dropped to my chest. I moved my hand down to her arm, and she lifted one hand and traced the line of tattoos up my shoulder. Her touch was electric, and I balled my other hand into a fist beside me to keep from grabbing her and claiming those strawberry lips.
If I touched her with both hands, I wouldn’t be able to stop. She followed the vines and clovers over my chest, and this time, I couldn’t help the low moan that escaped my lips. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as she traced the vine down my stomach.
“Your tattoos are beautiful. Much more intricate than mine.”
Her fingers danced across my abs, up to my ribs, and over the large Phoenix on my side. I flexed as she moved across my muscles, desperately wanting her to move lower. Her nails scratched lightly on my skin, making me suck in a deep breath with how good it felt. My jeans were still unbuttoned and sat low on my waist, not doing much to conceal my reaction to her touch.
Wait. Did she say…
“Your tattoos?” I tried to remember if I saw them, but all I could think about was her fingers as she moved to trace the four hawks that were tattooed on the other side of my ribs and down to my navel.
Fuck.
She was getting so close to where I needed her touch, and I swallowed hard, glancing down to her hand, and then to my cock, which was straining against my briefs.
Her big hazel eyes glanced up, and I met her gaze. “None where you can see.”
Damn.
She was torturing me. We were less than six inches apart, and I continued to trace up and down her arm as she touched me. Her fingers stopped and rested against my stomach, right above where my longitude and latitude coordinates were tattooed.
“I’d really like to see those,” I said before I could stop myself. I wanted so bad to drop my head and claim those lips.
I needed to kiss her, needed it more than food, needed it more than air. I leaned in closer and breathed deep, letting her peach scent envelop me. Her eyes darted between my eyes and my lips, and she took a step closer, scratching her nails across my stomach. She tilted her chin, and I lowered my head, ready to feel her, all of her.
“Mark,” she drew my name out in a long breath that had my cock so hard it was painful. “This is such a bad idea. But a part of me doesn’t care.”
She looked down, then back at me, biting her lip and waiting. In this moment, I was ready to do anything to make her mine. But she was worth more than a casual fuck, so I forced myself to stop touching her, and I dropped my arm and took a small step back.
“This is a bad idea,” I echoed, ignoring her other comment. I wasn’t any good for anyone, Jenna included. She deserved someone whole.
“If you say so,” she whispered, turning around so I couldn’t see her face. I walked backward until I reached the living room, then turned around, wishing like hell she’d follow me.
11 - JENNA
Comfortable silence. That was our pattern. We stayed out of each other’s way and made small talk when we were together. We took turns cooking, doing the dishes, and going grocery shopping. It was like we’d been living together for years. It was familiar and unnerving. Every day, I learned a little more about him, and every day, I was a little more confused.
Yesterday, I came home dog-tired to find dinner on the table and Mark outside watering my plants, like he belonged in my space. Even when he was cleaning up an ivy plant that Phoebe ate and threw up, he did it with a smile and a wink.
I was turned on and disoriented, but mostly turned on.
So turned on.
Because of the touching.
Every chance we had, we touched hands and brushed shoulders, but it was never enough. I craved more. More heat. More friction. More flesh. It felt like a relationship. It felt like more. I caught him several times covertly adjusting himself after we hugged.
At least I wasn’t the only one frustrated.
He used my shower every day, and more than once, I saw him in nothing but a towel, walking back to his room. Water beaded from his blonde hair and dripped down his chest, rolling over his tattoos. His body was tanned and toned, and the dusting of blond chest hair he had was mouthwatering. Every inch of his body was a work of art, and all I wanted was to touch him, and lick him, and claim him as mine.
“Those clouds are getting dark. I’m glad I’m on days now,” Mark said, interrupting my thoughts and walking up behind me in the kitchen to give my shoulder a gentle squeeze. I leaned into him, but he removed his hand just as quickly and turned around.
I watched him pad over to the fridge, taking in the gray sweatpants that sat low on his hips, black T-shirt, and bare feet. The man had honest-to-god butt dimples, and my mouth watered watching his tight butt flex perfectly as he bent down to get two beers from the bottom shelf. Mark deserved someone who fully appreciated those butt dimples for the delicious morsels they were.
