I glance up at the dancing rabbit on the shop window. It’s kind of cool. And I don’t like backing down from a challenge. “I’m fine,” I say, steeling my spine. “So I’m getting a tattoo?”
“Fuck no,” Bray snaps.
Bobby snorts. “Like Cap would let anyone else tattoo you.”
JJ crosses his arms, shifting so he’s partially in front of me. “No one is tattooing Adeline.”
“Oh my god.” With a shove, I push him out of the way. “You aren’t my goddamn bodyguard. I can do what I want.”
He glares at me, his blue eyes dark beneath the shitty parking lot lights.
I lift my chin. He may be my secret boyfriend, but he’s not in charge of me, and if he keeps pushing, he’s going to give us away.
Finally he sighs, running his hands through his hair. “Fine.”
“So if I’m not getting a tattoo, what am I doing?” I ask Bobby.
He smirks, his face lit up with mischief. “Every player on the team has a certain piercing.”
I have to work extra hard not to let my jaw drop. Oh fuck.
JJ’s laugh is low.
“What kind of piercing?” I squawk, thankfully remembering that as far as these guys know, I’m in the dark about JJ’s hardware.
Bray shakes his head. “Just a piercing. Any kind you want. It’s tradition. Everyone on the first line has one.”
Bobby huffs. “That’s not?—”
Brayden shakes his head. “Just because you idiots were all convinced to pierce your goddamn dicks doesn’t mean she needs to follow suit.”
“She doesn’t have dick,” Maxim says in his thick Russian accent.
“Thanks for the anatomy lesson, Lube,” I mutter, though my throat has gone dry.
JJ only has the Jacob’s ladder. Does that mean every single one of them has their penis pierced? Is that really a thing?
Suddenly Savannah’s text about the OG Bolts team surfaces. She mentioned that the guys all had them. Which includes my uncles. I slap a hand to my mouth. I’m going to be sick.
“I warned you,” JJ murmurs, standing a little too close. His breath is warm on my neck, grounding me in this moment.
“Oh shit.” Jarred clutches his junk. “I don’t think I want to be on the first line.”
“You’re safe for now,” Royal mutters.
He and Sutton have been dating for almost a year. How did she not share this little tidbit with us? I’m going to kill her.
“So you want me to”—I swallow past the lump in my throat—“pierce something?”
Without my permission, my attention drifts down Bobby’s body.
Just as I reach the buttons of his jacket, JJ nudges me. “Don’t.”
Bobby just grins. “I’ll show you mine if you show me?—”
Brayden swats the back of his head before he’s finished the sentiment.
He ducks, rubbing at the spot. “Fuck. Stop being so sensitive.”
