One looks like a flower over his pec, which connects to the vines down his arm. One beneath it looks like an old-fashioned ship rocked by waves. Farther down his ribs is acompass.
Tyler rasps out a breath. “You wanna do thisnow?”
He’s testy and turned on, but I can’t help myself. “Yes.”
He inches back so I can bend to inspecthim.
“This one, I got this one after I came to New York.” He points to the ship. “This one after I started at Vanier.” The compass. “This one this summer.” Theflower.
I bite my lip. “Tell me what theymean.”
“Later.Turn.”
I do as he asks, and he lifts my hair, laying it over one shoulder. His touch grazes between my shoulder blades, finding the zipper and working itdown.
“The ink I want to hear about is all the words you wrote me on this.” He strokes a finger across my skin, and Ishiver.
Cool air hits my back as the straps slide off my shoulders. The dress skims down my body, falling to thefloor.
Tyler’s lips graze my ear from behind. “Show me where you putme.”
My entire body is humming when he turns me back to face him, and his expression strips away the rest of mydefenses.
He’s gorgeous. A fiery prince set out to claim what’shis.
I point to my wrist. “Here.”
He lifts it, presses an open-mouthed kiss to the skin there, and Ishiver.
“And here.” My finger brushes my stomach, next to mynavel.
Tyler’s hands smooth down my sides, and he bends, his lips hot on my stomach. I grab his hair as I swallow, the feeling of his wet mouth sending need pooling between mythighs.
“Don’t stop now.” His voice is barelyaudible.
I point to the inside of my thigh. “Here.”
With a dark look, he drops to hisknees.
Then he strokes a finger up my skin, close to mypanties.
Isway.
I want him to touch me. I need it more thanair.
He bends toward my center, my panties the only thing between his mouth and where I’m slowly burningup.
His lips graze my skin on the inside of my thigh. “Every word you wrote I’ll trace with mytongue.”
It’s too much. I’moverwhelmed.
But before I can respond, he rises and steps away, nodding at my bra and panties. “Take themoff.”
He says it softly—a question, not a command—but the fact that he’s asking makes it impossible to deny him. With shaking hands, I reach for the back of the bra and unhook it. It slides down my arms and falls to the floor. Swallowing, I hook my fingers in my panties and slide them downtoo.
When I straighten, my knees are shaking. It’s only when his finger finds my chin, tilting it up, that I realize I was staring at hisfeet.
“It’s just me,” hemurmurs.