Chapter Eight
“Are all these yours? In this book?" Jaz called from the living room. He flipped through a portfolio full of pictures of her designs and jewelry.
“Yeah,” she said from the doorway of her bedroom.
She’d been searching for a while for something to wear that wouldn’t rub on the candle tattoo. She’d put her hair up in two little clips and she looked amazing. Except she was still topless.
Jaz pointed to her bare breasts. “You going like that?”
Mandi put her hands on her hips and pushed her shoulders back, thrusting her chest forward. Those tits stood proud, capped by the tightest, prettiest nipples. She shot him a smug look, full of female power and feminine knowing. “You don't like it?”
“I love it. But …” If his grin mirrored his thoughts … “I don’t share.” Damn. Could he sound a little more possessive? And it wasn't that he didn’t share. He’d shared women with Vinter and Dallon. But that was then. This is now.
Sharing Mandi wasn’t happening. Ever.
“Oh.” She shrugged and dropped her hands. “Well, I don’t either.”
Not a problem with him. Mandi was more than enough to wear his ass out. She disappeared into her room again, and he could hear her muttering about nothing to wear.
“How about this?” she asked, stepping back into view.
“This” was a black top that bared her upper back. It tied around her neck from the front, leaving a plunging neckline. “Wow.” He and his dick were in agreement. She looked … delectable. “I like it. Gonna wear those sexy-ass boots I can’t stop thinking about?”
She laughed, and it sank deep beneath his skin. “Would you like me to leave you alone with my boots for a while?”
“Only if you’re in ’em.”
“Hadn’t planned on wearing those, no, but I do have another pair you might like.”
“Honey, any boots on you, any heels at all, and I’m a happy man.”
She slipped away, but returned carrying a pair of ankle boots. The heel was higher, the toe more pointed. These might be his new favorite pair. Hot damn.
“You sure you don’t want me to leave you alone with my boots? I can.”
“No.” When she laughed again, he gave her a playful sneer and his back. He was ready to tackle her to the floor and feel those heels dig into his ass. Which, would happen before the night was over.
He went back to flipping through her designs. “You do nice work.”
“Thank you.”
“In all seriousness, you should consider making some things for the shop. I’d love to carry a display.”
“I’ll think about it. Especially after I take some of those classes I was telling you about. There’s so much I want to learn, to expand on, to perfect, you know?”
She’d come to stand at his shoulder and her breath on his skin … Dear God … Around her he was nothing more than a walking hard-on. Her body was so close that the clothes she wore brushed against him and there was only so much a man like him could take.
“Yeah …” She placed a kiss between his shoulder blades and his words died in his throat.
“Do your tattoos mean anything?”
She’d dropped her hands to the hem of his t-shirt and slid her palms up his back, lifting the shirt as she went. He gulped air and snapped the book shut. “Everything. They mean everything.” Her tongue licked in different spots, and he couldn’t help the shudder that went through him. “Each …” He had to force himself to keep his hands at his sides, to let her explore his body as she wanted. “Each one tells a story.”
“The bars down the center of your back?” She traced the lines from top to bottom with both lips and fingertips.
“Jail.”
“Eagle on your shoulder?”
“Freedom.”
“Music note? Self explanatory, I guess.” Her fingers moved to his side. “Is this …?”
Another breath shuddered through him. She was stroking the rainbow of intertwining colors. “Crayons. Yes. Love color. Tattoos.”
“I love it all, Jaz. And the design at base of your back that travels?”
“Tribal.” It did travel and she traced every inch she could reach without him turning around.
“Who did your ink?”
“The man who taught me. I met him when I was inside. He used to come with Jackie sometimes when she’d visit me. We talked quite a bit and he told me to look him up when I got out. I did. When I wasn’t working at Katz, I was in the shop, learning. I could always draw, always create, and it kind of gave me a way to focus that. He was in a motorcycle accident and died a few years back. He left me his part of the shop. His partner didn’t want to keep the business after that. When I couldn’t afford to buy him out on my own, Vinter and Dallon stepped in and bought that half.”
“Good friends.”
“The best. The cross of skulls is for him.”
She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his back. He covered her hands with his then slid them back and grabbed hold of her hips, pulling her as flush as he could get her. The feel of her warmth, her softness, her … Just her made him ache. She made him hard, but at the same time, he wanted to curl into her softness. He wanted to smother her with affection, attention, love.
She brought out all the naughty lust along with all his need to care for someone.
“I like your tattoos.”
“Damn good thing ’cause they aren’t coming off.”
“Mmm. I like the one that goes down your hip to your knee. The roller coaster. I’d like to lick that one.”
Jaz groaned. The pain between his legs was close to unbearable. His balls were no doubt shades of purple by now, and though she hadn’t meant to turn him on—or maybe she had. Hell, it didn’t matter. He was hard and hurting and wanted to be so deep inside her …
“You ready to go?” How he managed to get those words to come out sounding normal, he’d never know.
“Yeah. Let me grab my purse. Where are we going? I hope what I’m wearing is okay.”
He looked over his shoulder and watched her move around the room. She turned on a lamp, picked up her small purse from the table, checked her make-up … Everything about her was, “Perfect.”
She flashed him a smile so beautiful that more than his cock and balls were feeling the pain of torture.
“Okay then, let’s go. I’m starving.”
So was he.