I hummed under my breath and trailed my fingers up his back. “Game on, handsome.”
An hour later, after showing Rome the exact reasons why I was with him, we were pulling into the parking lot behind Bad Habit.
I frowned. “You know Scoop & Swirl is across the street, right?”
Rome killed the engine. “I’m aware.”
I looked at him.
He looked back. “I’m parking us at my shop. I like the idea of walking you across the street so everyone knows you’re mine.”
I laughed. “You sound possessive.”
“I am possessive.”
That shouldn’t have made me smile, but it absolutely did. I liked being Rome’s.
We climbed off the bike, and Rome slipped an arm around my shoulders as we walked toward the front of Bad Habit.
I glanced down at my wrist at my tiny ice cream cone tattoo. A smile tugged at my mouth.
Rome noticed. “What?”
I held out my wrist. “I’m getting the itch.”
His eyebrows shot up. “For another tattoo?”
I nodded. “I think so.”
Rome barked out a laugh, then tucked me against his side. “Welcome to the club, baby. Tattoos are addictive.”
“I don’t think that’s medically proven.”
“It should be.”
I laughed and he kissed the top of my head. “I give it six months.”
“For what?”
“You’ll have sleeves.”
I gasped. “I sell ice cream.”
“You can sell ice cream with sleeves.”
“I’ll look intimidating.”
“You already do.”
I snorted. The man was delusional.
Before I could argue further, the roar of motorcycles filled the street.
Three bikes rolled into the lot.
I recognized them immediately.
Skid.
