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She sets her backpack on the desk, pulls her sketchbook from it, and flips to the right page. Anticipation spreads over her expression as she shows off the design.
"Is it perfect?" Her voice perks.
"Yeah."
"Really?" She taps her toes together. "Are you sure?"
Positive. If I was the type to get a joke tattoo, this thing would be going on my arm today. I roll my shirt up my sleeve. "Do me one last time, sunshine."
Her lips curl into a half smile. "Only one? I'm not sure I can promise that." Her ass brushes my crotch as she moves past me, to the scanner. She's quick about scanning, printing, and cutting out the mock-up. She's a pro now. "Within a week, you'll be begging for more."
"Will I?"
"Yeah. I already worked up a Lando and a Chewbacca for you. So you have options."
"You did not."
"Did too." She wets a cotton swab with rubbing alcohol and drags it over my shoulder. Her fingers skim my skin as she holds up my shirt. "C3-PO too."
"R2-D2?"
"And Luke. That one is probably the best. In my opinion."
"'Cause he's holding his lightsaber like it's a massive dick?"
"Maybe." She presses the paper to my skin then dabs with a wet cotton swab.
"Maybe?" I raise a brow. "That's it."
"You're being greedy. One free design at a time."
My gaze shifts to her sketchbook. It's still sitting face down on the scanner. I can't marvel at the design. But I know it well enough. "I am. This is good shit."
"You really think so?"
"I do."
She drops the cotton swab and peels the paper off. Her eyes go wide with enthusiasm. Her jaw drops. Her fingers curl. Her toes tap together. "Does this ever get old?"
Yeah. But not with her sitting next to me. Not with her reminding me what I want. "Only if you let it."
"Have you?"
"Yeah. But I'm getting it back."
She looks up at me with a wide smile.
Fuck, her smile does shit to me.
I feel it everywhere.
Her fingers curl into my skin. She takes a step backward. "You need to see this in the mirror."
She's right. I do. But her voice isn't I'm excited about what you're teaching me. It's I never want to stop touching you.
Still, I follow her into the main room. All the way to my suite. To the mirror.
Soft light streams through the sheer shades. The room hums with the sound of Ryan's gun and the quiet grunts of his client. Neither one of them is talking. Of course.
