Shannon grinned. “I’ll call you. Are you going to let them in?”
“After you come over here, and kiss me goodbye.”
She slid off the barstool and walked around the island. Crash’s cell phone, which was sitting on the island next to his elbow, went off. He glanced at the readout. “Your girls are impatient.”
As Shannon reached him, he straightened from the counter and pulled her to him, his hands on her hips. Her hands slid up his chest, over the cool smooth leather of his cut to his broad shoulders. He gazed down at her and waited, not dipping his head to hers, wanting her to come the rest of the way to him.
And then she did.
Her hands moved to cup his jaw, and she went up on her toes, her soft mouth pressing against his. His hands slid from her hips, around to the small of her back and pulled her closer. He tilted his head to better angle his mouth to hers, as her mouth opened under his.
His cell rang again, and he broke off, lifting his head an inch. Then he went back for another light brush of his mouth against her. And then he stepped back, grabbed his phone and moved to the elevator.
They stared at each other as he descended.
Five minutes later, Angel and Crystal piled out of the elevator.
Crystal was manning the blender, mixing up frozen margaritas. Angel was at the microwave heating up some queso dip and Shannon was digging through the cabinets looking for margarita glasses. She’d spotted some giant goblets up on the top shelf of one of the cabinets that she thought they could use, and she was up on her tip-toes stretching to reach them when she heard Angel screech, “What is that?”
Shannon almost dropped a glass twisting to look at her. “What?”
“That!” Angel was pointing to Shannon’s stomach. “You have a tattoo. Let’s see.”
Shit, Shannon thought as she dropped back off her toes, setting the glasses down. Now she was going to have to tell them about it. “Umm…”
“Come on, let’s see it,” Angel insisted.
Crystal had stopped blending, turning to look.
Shannon rolled her eyes and lifted her loose flowing shirt. She had on her yoga pants, with the waistband pulled down low so as not to brush on the tattoo which was still in its early days of healing.
“Wow, that’s beautiful,” Angel said, bending to see it.
Crystal moved closer, peering over Angel’s shoulder, and then whistled low. “Damn, girl.”
“You didn’t have that the other day when I came over to help you dress for the party,” Angel said in an accusatory voice.
“No. Crash did it Saturday.”
“Crash inked you?” Crystal asked, her brows lifted.
“Well, um, yeah.”
Crystal grabbed the pitcher of margaritas and headed around the island toward the roof. “Come on girls, I can’t wait to hear this story.”
Angel snatched up the chips and queso, and Shannon followed with the glasses.
When they were all settled in chairs on the rooftop, Crystal poured them each a drink, and then leaned back and instructed Shannon, “Okay, shoot. And don’t leave anything out.”
Shannon proceeded to tell them how a rainy day had led to a game of Truth or Dare, which in turn had led to a game of pool. Then she explained about the wager.
“And you lost?”
“I’d say she won,” Crystal commented with a sly smile. “Crash is an artist. That ink is beautiful. I sure wouldn’t mind a man wanting to put that kind of symbolism on me.”
“It is kind of romantic. You being the rose, him all wrapped around you, protecting you,” Angel admitted.
“It’s cool as shit,” Crystal exclaimed. “No, scratch that. It’s hot as shit!”