“Sure. Okay.” I grab it and pull the lighter from my pocket. “You’re doing a ton of firsts tonight.”
Lighting it, I take a few hits to get it going, plucking a wayward stem off my lip. “Here. Just…go slow.”
She doesn’t. I have a feeling that Scout does everything to the max. Full inhale. Choking. Gasping. Snot everywhere.
I almost snicker, but she does it first. “What the hell is that? My lungs just burned up. Why does it feel like I’m dying and being reborn at the same time?”
I lose it, full mouth open, raucous laughter pouring from my chest. “That’s a good way to put it.”
Still laughing, she wipes her nose. “Okay, no. That can’t be right. I did something wrong.”
“You went too hard.” I bite my lip at the indication, trying to contain the other filthy things I want to say.
“Then show me how not to.”
There’s a challenge in it. Not flirtatious—yet. Just stubborn.
I hesitate a second longer than I should, then take the blunt back, drawing in a slow inhale while she watches me carefully. My hands find her face before I can stop them. Tilting her chin up to meet me…
Our mouths hover close until my entire body tingles. I exhale slow and steady as she sucks in everything I give her. An intoxicating white cloud seeps from my lungs and into hers. A warm, earthy cloud surrounds us. Scout squeezes her eyes closed as my lips brush hers so gingerly, I almost think it didn’t happen.
When her deep blues open one at a time, I whisper, “Take it easy.”
Her gaze drops, dragging down across my neck, to my chest, my arms. Everywhere she looks surges with heat.
“What’s that?” she asks, quieter now, nodding toward the ink winding down my forearms to my hands.
I follow where she’s looking, then study her face. She’s closer than she realizes. Swallowing, I attempt to answer without calling attention to the growing problem pressing against the seam of my trousers. “Uh,Deltaletters.”
She tilts her head and sits back. “I want a tattoo.”
“Yeah? What kind?—”
“No. I mean, right now. You Marauders all havetattoos. I want one.”
“You want a tattoo rightnow?” I repeat, my eyes widening.
“Yep. I know what I want. A Rod of Asclepius. On my right hip.” And with that, she stands and yanks her sparkly dress up to her tits.
Like I’ve been punched in the gut, the air is ripped from my lungs. Here she is, half-naked in black cotton panties. They’re big. Practical looking. Innocent and terrible. And so fuckingperfect,my balls ache. Gold sequins lifted high, showing off her tight body. She’s got abs. And a firm ass. One perfect for my palms.
I’m not built for this kind of torture.
“Uh, seems like you’ve thought a lot about this.”
“I have.”
I glance at the door. “I mean, my brother’s a tattoo artist, and he could?—”
“Get him. Let’s do it. Right now.” She shrugs, a broad smile crossing her plump lips. “To celebrate new beginnings.”
“Okay, tulip. If you’re serious.”
“I’m always serious. In fact, I’m known for it.”
I’m not exactly sure how to deal with watching her in my brother’s chair. Dress up. Skin all exposed. And my dick so veryneedy.
But I’m willing to give it a go. Just to see where this leads.
