I drag my fingers down his arms, squeezing the biceps as I go and he takes my mouth in a heated kiss, slipping his tongue inside like he’s trying to distract me.
Or work me up again.
I break the kiss, pushing him away.
“Stay still,” I whisper, tracing the eagle’s wings stretching over the bottom half of his pecs.
The bird is in flight, probably mid-hunt, his talons reaching down. Lower, two revolvers follow the curve of his ribs, while angels flank the eagle. Ace of spades and ace of hearts, roses with thorns, diamonds, casino chips, words I don’t understand. There’s no rhyme or rhythm, but the designs work as a whole.
There are more, disappearing under the waistline of his jeans. His muscles tense at my touch, the six-pack more definedwhen I glide my fingers along the beltline, coming back up on the other side to navigate his ribs.
“You look fascinated,” he says, hovering above me, the weight of his body supported by his outstretched arms.
“You have scars, too...” I say, a few bumping under my fingertips. “What about here?” I lift my head, kissing the top half of his bare pecs. “Why no ink?”
He has two arrows pointing outward in the crooks of his shoulders and Caesar’s laurel under his collarbones, then more words run down his neck on either side, but the tops of his pecs aren’t inked.
“Still thinking what I want here.” He grips my wrist, pinning it to the pillow by my head. “Do you have any?”
I shake my head, unconvincingly. I didn’t scrutinize my body for tattoos after I woke up at the hospital. I’m pretty certain that by now I’ve seen myself in the mirror from every angle, but I might have missed a tiny one.
“You don’t know.” Nash reads my mind, quickly helping me out of the t-shirt. “Let’s see.”
I don’t voice any protest when he sits back on his calves, dragging my leg up to rest my foot against his warm chest.
“Are your feet always this cold?” He turns my ankle left and right, inspecting every inch.
“That I know.” I smile relaxing into the pillow. “They are.”
I lie naked before him, a sight I don’t enjoy, but the raw awe in his dark eyes tells me he does.
I’ve never been this comfortable in my skin. Never felt as pretty as I do right now. It’s the most empowering feeling.
“You pushed them between my thighs last night in your sleep...” he continues, his voice husky. “Colder than ice.” He lifts my other foot and rests it beside the first. “Do it again tonight.”
My blood runs a fever at the thought.
He wants me in his bed again? Tosleep?
I jerk when he finds a ticklish spot under my knee, and another genuine, tiny smile graces his handsome face. The corners of his mouth barely twitch, but his eyes tell me he’s pleased.
“Nothing so far.” Dropping my feet back on the bed, he ghosts his big hands up my thighs. “Nothing here, either, but...” He maneuvers himself between my legs.
“You already checked there.”
“I was too busy tasting to look for tattoos, pretty girl.” He spreads me with his thumbs, licking a path to my clit.
I grasp the sheets with both hands, my abdomen contracting as I melt into the mattress. “You’re not looking.”
“Just one more taste,” he grunts, dragging the flat of his tongue between my pussy lips. “So sweet.”
“Tattoos, Nash.”
He inches away, studying the bare skin between my legs. The fire burning in his eyes makes me feel even prettier.
“And? Anything?”
“Everything,” he whispers, licking me again. “Give me one more orgasm and we’ll head down for breakfast.”
