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The door opens and Leo strolls in. “You alright, Fox? I woke up to this feeling that you’re not okay. If you’re fine, tell me to go back to sleep.”
“I can’t get it off!” I cry, frantically scraping at my skin, ignoring the sting.
Leo’s concern is palpable as he opens the large glass door. Even though he could just peer through the transparent divide, he comes inside, standing under the spray with his brows knit in concern. “What’s wrong?” His gaze drifts to the tattoo on my thigh, his eyes widening in the next breath. Then his shoulders lower as a tender expression crosses his features. His hand moves over his heart, as if he is truly touched. “You drew a matching tattoo on your thigh? You want us to have matching tattoos?” He smiles tenderly down at me. “Mine isn’t a tattoo, Fox. This is the mark that appeared on my body because I’m in a pack. I didn’t choose it; it chose me.”
I shake my head, unable to find the right words. “I can’t get it off!”
He tilts his head at me. “You drew it on, and now you can’t get it off? Were you worried I would see it and split?” He shakes his head, cupping my chin so he can thumb my tears away. “Fox, I think it’s sweet. You want a tattoo to match my mark? We can make that happen.”
His words are grand, and not at all the direction I thought this would go. Tattoos are permanent, and we’ve had one confusing and crazy night together.
“That’s not what happened!” I try to tell him. “I woke up like this!” I motion to his thigh, now positive that his mark is different than it was yesterday. I saw him naked long enough that I feel as if I’ve had his mark emblazoned in my memory. “Your mark has a tear and a moon on it! It didn’t have those things yesterday. Did Calvin draw on us with permanent ink or something while we slept?”
Leo glances curiously at his thigh and, sure enough, his eyes widen when he notices the slight alterations. “What the fuck?” He thumbs at the design, frowning. “Huh. It’s not coming off. That’s weird.”
I gape at him. “That’s all you can say? I woke up tattooed and all you can say is ‘that’s weird’?”
Leo shrugs. “It’s probably some fancy ink Cal used to doodle on us while we were sleeping. It’s not a real tattoo, Ivy. I was out, but not so dead to the world that I wouldn’t notice a needle going in and out of my skin.” He reaches out and grips my wrist to stop me from breaking the skin on my thigh with my nails.
“I’m freaking out!” I admit.
Leo kneels in the spray—lithe like a jungle cat—to get a closer look at the mark that showed up unbidden. “Huh. It’s exactly like the mark of a pack leader, only the bear paw is smaller and off to the side.” He blinks up at me through wet lashes. “You sure you didn’t draw this on yourself?”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Does this look like the face of a woman who’s in the know about this thing?”
Leo holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, I believe you didn’t do this. But then how?”
I throw my head back in frustration. “That’s literally what my freakout is all about, Leo. If I didn’t put it there, then who did?”
Leo shrugs, as if there has to be a logical explanation for something this illogical. “It’s okay, Ivy. We’ll get harsher soap, and it’ll come right off.” His knuckles brush over my thigh. “Deep breaths. I mean it. There’s no way this is more than just ink that’ll wash off once we get better soap.”
I try to take his advice and calm myself with a long inhale and exhale. “You really think?”
“I’m really positive.” He kisses the mark with a smile that actually does loosen the tight hold I’ve had on myself ever since I saw it. “I’m sure it was Cal goofing on us while we were sleeping.”
The corner of my mouth lifts. “You really think Calvin could string two sentences together after the way things played out last night?”
Leo misses my point completely when mention of our sexy times together comes up. A smile curves the corners of his mouth as he places his hands on my hips, tilting them toward him more fully. “I think you missed a spot washing up.”
I glance down, but then catch his meaning. “Did I, now?”
Leo moves his head closer to the thin strip of curls between my thighs. “You missed a spot right here.” His tongue reaches out to sweep across my clit.
With that one small movement, my angst about the spontaneous tattoo leaves me completely. Every serious thing heads to the back of my brain to make room for Leo’s tongue. When his lips fasten to my core, a soft moan hits the steamed air.
I can’t recall the last time a man went down on me before I landed myself in the manor. Just the visual of a giant man like Leo on his knees before me is enough to make me wet.
He grips my thighs, spreading them slightly so he can knead my most sensitive flesh with his thumbs between circular licks. All I want is more of this.
When my fingers tangle in his wet hair, that is exactly what I get. My knees begin to struggle with gravity when his lips suction to my apex. When he works a finger into my core that is still sore from last night, I gasp that this is my morning (or late afternoon, as it were). This sort of thing never happens to me—meeting two handsome men, or even one, and taking them to bed on the first day. Apparently, I didn’t know what I was missing.
Leo’s finger moves smoothly in and out while he laps at my clit like a boy licking a coveted candy. I am the thing he cherishes. I can tell he cares by the way he glances up at me longingly, and then nuzzles my tight curls with his nose as if I am his soft teddy bear.
I love him.
The thought comes to me at random, and though I didn’t say it aloud, I cover my mouth to stem the flow of the words in case they hit the air without my permission. I love this man, though I didn’t set out for that to happen. The way he regards me as something precious and worthwhile ticks a box I didn’t realize would ever be satisfied.
But just looking down at him is satisfying enough. Add an orgasm to the mix, and it is no surprise that I am securely wrapped around his finger—quite literally.
