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He slumped back in his chair, pushed his hair back, which was completely out of the tie now, and rubbed at his face, giving me full view of his chest and the ink that covered it.
I searched for the words I knew were there. It didn’t take me long to find them.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, getting to my feet and padding across the room in a hurry. I threw the door open and darted outside.
Still barefoot, I jogged across the grass and unlocked my car.
With my lower half hanging out the door, I rummaged around the glove compartment for the black Sharpie I knew was in there. When I closed my hand around it, I smiled.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Then I grabbed my purse out of the back and returned to the house in the same hurry I’d left it, bursting through the door.
“Come with me,” I instructed, meeting Sean’s eyes before I dropped my purse on the couch and turned for the hallway.
“Why?”
I gazed back at him over my shoulder. I didn’t answer.
Seeing the seriousness in my eyes, Sean pushed his chair back and stood. That was a smart move on his part. I was geared up and ready to drag his body, dead weight and all, if he hadn’t gotten up.
I stepped inside his bedroom and waited at the foot of the bed, then, when he entered, I pointed at the mattress with the marker and ordered, “Please sit.”
Sean brought his arms across his chest and stared at me. “This important?”
“Yes.”
“Important enough we’re lettin’ the rest of our food get cold?”
I nodded firmly. “It is. And that’s saying a lot, since that is the best steak I’ve ever eaten, and you already know how I feel about those chips. I should’ve done this already.”
“Steak reheated is shit,” he informed me.
“Not if you sear it,” I shot back, watching his head tilt in appreciation and the corner of his mouth lift.
I knew a thing or two about cooking meat.
“This is urgent, Sean, and I’d rather do it in here. I have a feeling this will lead to something I’d very much like to experience in this bed, considering how many times I’ve thought about it.”
His brows ticked up. “You talkin’ about fuckin’ or somethin’ else?”
I shivered. Lord, his candor was hot as hell. It made my bones turn to jelly.
“Honestly? I’m talking about fucking and the things that typically lead up to fucking we have yet to dabble in.”
“Dabble in?”
“Practice. Familiarize ourselves with…”
A slow, sexy smile took shape across his mouth. I shivered again.
“Okay, please sit down before I jump you and bypass the vital thing that needs to happen. I’ll be pissed if I don’t do this now.”
“I don’t know…I’m kinda wantin’ to stall a little.”
My lips parted. Oh, my God, was he…
“Are you flirting with me?”
“I’m fuckin’ trying to.”
My heart fluttered.
Holy shit.
I dropped my head back and groaned. “Sean, please come over here and sit down!” I begged, squirming where I stood. “You’re killing me.”
He really was. Sean flirting was now my kryptonite, right behind Sean shirtless, Sean smiling, Sean doing anything in my general vicinity.
He was grinning still when I lowered my head and looked at him, and he kept that grin walking to the bed and taking a seat.
“I had no idea you had such mad flirting skills,” I said, motioning for him to scoot back so he was leaning against the headboard. I straddled his lap.
“Mm.” He caught my hips and held me there. “They ain’t that good if you had to ask if I was doin’ it.”
“I was just surprised. You haven’t flirted with me yet,” I told him.
>“No?”
My brow furrowed, and I leaned back. “Have you?”
Sean’s mouth decided to blow my mind with this part smirk, part mischievous grin thing I had yet to experience.
It was pure magic, let me tell you.
“Stop it. I need focus,” I scolded, feeling his body quake beneath me with a soundless chuckle. Then I shifted back a little to allow me some space to write. Looking at his chest, I uncapped the marker.
“What are you doin’?” he asked.
I didn’t speak yet.
I leaned in and carefully pressed the blunt tip to his skin where there wasn’t any ink, and wrote my first word in a slant up his right pec.
Beautiful.
“I have to apologize for something,” I said as I continued writing words on Sean’s skin. I dragged the tip up the side of his neck and in scripted print wrote Deserving. “I lied to you the other night when I slept over. I wasn’t crying because I’d been throwing up. I wasn’t even throwing up at all.”
“What?”
I met his eyes and nodded, then I wrote the word Important curling over his left shoulder. “I was looking at your tattoos while you slept because I hadn’t really gotten a chance to study them yet, and I saw those words, Sean. This one,” I stopped writing, and with my other hand I rubbed my thumb over the word Nothing.
