You can’t get in. You can’t go in with her. You shouldn’t. It’s wrong.
“Want to get in with me, Doc?” she asked.
And despite the protest of the voice in my head, I found myself reaching for the buckle of my pants.
12
LIZZIE
When he reached for the buckle on his pants, I held my breath. Was he really going to do it? To be honest, I didn’t think he’d take me up on the offer.
But when his pants sluiced to the ground, down his legs, my breath flew out from between my lips in a huff.
My God, he was beautiful.
Each piece of clothing he dropped revealed more of the hard planes on his body. I swear to hell on high, people in Greece would erect statues of him just to look. He was all long lines and chiseled definition. The moonlight sparkled in those steel gray eyes of his, creating a stormy look across those high cheekbones. He was the definition of a beautiful man.
I suddenly found myself very unappealing in his presence.
I sank a bit more into the water as he stepped in. I wasn’t even trying to hide how I stared. I couldn’t. So I didn’t. But when he turned around?
I caught an eyeful of the massive back tattoo he had.
“Wow,” I whispered as I gravitated mindlessly toward him.
He chuckled as he sank into the hot tub, turning to face me. “What?”
I paused in the middle of the hot tub. “Could I see your tattoo again?”
His grin warmed my gut. “You like it?”
I shook my head softly. “I didn’t even know you had tattoos. You don’t?—”
His chuckle washed over me. “I don’t look like I have tattoos?”
My cheeks blushed. “Sorry. I just?—”
He just held up his hand before he shook his head, and he turned around in the water for me. I got a good look at it, the blackened outlines and the painstaking shading. I didn’t have the balls to get a tattoo. Needles freaked me the fuck out. However, looking at other people’s tattoos?
Loved that shit.
I didn’t even realize I picked up my hand to trace the lines of the tree that sprawled his entire back until his skin twitched beneath my fingers.
“Sorry,” I whispered as I yanked my hand away.
“You’re fine, Miss Elizabeth.”
It took me a second to put together what I was looking at. There were dates and names. They were written in such curly-cue writing that I almost couldn’t interpret it. But eventually, the names started popping out. Lieutenant Bradley. Private Muckerson. General Jackson.
“Doc?” I asked softly as I traced over the dates beneath their names.
They weren’t full dates.
Just years.
Birth and death.
“Doc,” I whispered softly as I splayed my hand against the trunk of the tree that ran up and down his spine.
