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I smile, brushing my lips across her forehead. “Take your shirt off while I go scrub up.”
“Why do I need my shirt off? It’s going on my arm?”
“Because I want to look at your tits while I’m tattooing you.”
“Fine,” she huffs, but we both know she isn’t mad about it. She secretly loves the fact that I’m obsessed with her body and every spot on it.
I step into the bathroom and quickly scrub my hands, mourning the fact that I’m washing her from them. But I’m a professional. I won’t tattoo her without taking every precaution.
When I step back out into my booth, she’s up out of the chair, shirtless.
“I want to make changes to the tattoo,” she blurts, spinning to face me.
My eyes immediately drift to her chest. What? Her tits are incredible. And they’re currently covered with my marks, which is a fucking fantastic sight. I can’t help but look. But I only look for a moment before I focus on her again.
“What kind of changes?”
She holds up the stencil I drew. “Can we add a little jungle behind them?”
“You want to add a jungle?”
She nods.
My fucking heart swells like the goddamn Grinch. My throat gets tight. Christ, I love this woman.
“Yeah,” I rasp, clearing my throat as I stride toward her. “Fuck yeah, we can add a jungle, Who.”
She beams up at me, stealing my damn heart all over again.
