Hartley rolls away from me, turning on the bedside lamp. I shake my head at his predictability. Secretly, though, I love it.
“Don’t start,” he says, sliding his boxers over his hips and kicking them onto the floor. “You know I’m not going to have you naked and not be able to see you.”
I scoot off the other side just to toy with him. When he looks over his shoulder, I’m standing by the bed with my fingers gripping the hem of my shirt.
He smirks. “Take it off.”
“I’m enjoying the view first.” I make a point of dragging my gaze down the length of his body. It’s unfair how attractive he is and how he just gets better with age. “My husband’s hot.”
His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, then runs along his lips. “Seen enough?”
“You never let me really look at you. Not like you look at me.”
It’s true. Hartley loves to unwrap me from my clothes like I’m a gift. And if there’s the option to have a light on while we’retogether, he chooses it every time. It doesn’t bother me because something about the look he gives me when he’s visually feasting on my body isverygood for my ego.
“Because as soon as my clothes come off, you’re usually begging for an orgasm.”
“Well, tonight is no different in that regard.” My thighs are coated from how soaked I am for him. “But, damn, Hart. You really are fine.”
I start to lift my shirt when my gaze lands on something I haven’t noticed before. It’s small and barely noticeable. One circle, about the size of a penny, with a smaller one in the center.
He didn’t.
My jaw hangs open as my gaze darts back to his. “What’s that?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I point at the spot just below his rib cage. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
He looks down, grinning sheepishly. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s the coin.”
My heart pounds at this revelation.He’s had a tattoo of the coin that I gave him—that he gave to me today—this whole time?Echoes of words I’ve heard all week come back to me.How many times did I hear that people were expecting us to get married, and had been for a long time?
I look up at him, searching his big brown eyes for confirmation.Was he, too, waiting for this day to come?
I know he hasn’t dated anyone seriously, but I’ve always expected that he has dated. That’s one of the reasons I hated coming back to Sugar Creek. I wasn’t sure how I’d handle seeing him with someone else.But was I wrong to think he’d moved on, or was he just waiting for the right girl?
“When did you get that?” I ask.
“A while ago. It’s nothing.”
I laugh. “It’s not nothing. I want to know when you got it.”
He stares at me like he’s trying to assess whether this is a topic that I’ll let go or not. He must realize that I’ll die on this hill. I want answers.
“Brooks got a tattoo a couple of months ago, and was giving me shit about not having any,” Hartley says. “I couldn’t think of anything else to get.”
We stare at each other, feeling each other out across the bed. My body fills with a warmth that I didn’t know existed. One I’ve never felt before. And I’m not quite sure how to process it.
“Was it for me?” I ask carefully. I’m sure it was—it must be. And I must know the truth before I overthink it in the middle of the night.
He rolls his eyes. “Of course, it was for you. Now shut up and take your shirt off.”
Guess I’ll process that later.
Or not.
