I must have misheard. No. Nope. There’s no way he’s telling me that the one time he put his dick in me was in fact not the one time.
“I told you that you’ve always been such a heavy sleeper.”
My jaw drops as I stare up at him. That means...
A hesitant frown wrinkles his forehead. “Are you upset?”
The rational answer would be to say an absolute, hundred percentyes. I was asleep and unaware. Therefore, on paper, he violated me. I should be upset about that.
But fucking hell, I’m getting wetter at the thought. I can practically feel my pupils blowing out imagining him sneakinginto my bedroom, pushing my panties to the side, and gently sliding into me.
I shake my head in answer, breathing hard as that imagery plays on repeat. If he looks at the state of my panties, he’ll know that upset I most definitely amnot. Frankly, I’m impressed... and a little mortified that someone else could’ve done it, and I would’ve slept through it.
“Do I want to know what else you’ve done to me while I’ve been asleep?” I bite the inside of my cheek, waiting for his answer.
My brows draw together when he leans back. Not the answer I was looking for, but I don’t mind reconvening this discussion when I’m tempted to hump his leg just to get friction.
Except he doesn’t pounce on me. He twists his torso to show me the ink on his ribs. There, in tiny letters, isJSD.
“I had it done three months ago,” he explains.
“What does it stand for?” The way he’s looking at me tells me I should know. I’m coming up blank.
“Jasmina Santos Duval.”
I blink. “Duval?”
He shrugs. “Might as well have all the initials right the first time, so I don’t need to get any removed and corrected.”
My stomach hurts from how frantically the little butterflies are swooping. God, I’m about to turn into a giggling mess. That’s a red flag, right?
Fuck it, I’m colorblind where Leo’s involved.
He hooks a finger in the waistband of my panties and tugs them down, leaning forward to plant a kiss on the side of my hipbone. He reverently rubs the spot his lips were just on, gazing up at me as he says, “We’re matching now.”
Matching? What does he meanmatching?
I push myself up onto my elbows to peer down at what has his focus. My jaw drops because right there in black are Leo’s initials.
I dart my stare between the tattoo, him, and back to the tattoo. How in the fuck did this man manage to fuckingtattoo mewithout waking me up? Jesus Christ. He must have showed up at one of my appointments because I’m notorious for sleeping through those things.
“What—”
Actually, I don’t want to know because I’m not even mad. He’s just as fucked up as I am. We truly are a match made in Heaven—or Hell, depending on how you see it.
I try to peer closer at the ink. It’s slightly raised, and the line work a bit uneven. Shit, I can’t believe he actuallytattooedme.
I glare at him, but it lacks any anger. “I want you to know I’m mad that I’m only finding all of this out now.”
Leo chuckles, kissing a path up my lower belly, pushing my top up as he goes. “We’ve been busy.” He grins against my skin, ghosting his fingers over my core.
“Too busy to know that I have your initials permanently inked into my skin?” My voice shakes, and my stomach clenches as he brushes my sex over the thin cotton material of my panties.
He quirks a brow. “If I recall correctly, you own several mirrors.”
I can’t argue that point.
“It would’ve been nice to know that you’ve been fucking me in my sleep too,” I point out. Video evidence would be nice as well, for, uh, academic purposes.
