Hating You, Loving You (Inked Hearts 4)

He pushes his shirt up his sleeve. "Do me."

"Right here?" I pretend to undo my jeans. "Sure. You have a condom?"

His smile lights up his dark eyes. "I'm already corrupting you."

"Maybe I'm already corrupted."

He shakes his head.

I nod.

"Show me the goods."

"Oh. Right." We're not flirting. We're pretending like Saturday night never happened. Maybe. I can never tell where I stand with him. "You're holding my backpack."

He hands it over.

I set it on the desk. Dig out my sketchbook. Find the page with my latest Han. It's a little different. He's wearing only his vest and pants, no shirt, and he's kneeling on his blaster as it shoots a laser bullet.

It's all incredibly phallic.

"Nice." He taps his skin. "Make it happen."

He's in the way of the printer, but I don't ask him to move. My front brushes his as I pass him.

My nipples perk. My sex clenches. My veins buzz with nervous energy.

I'm shaking.

I steady my hands enough to set the mock-up on the printer. Scan. Print.

He keeps his body behind mine as I snip the edges from the design.

Stays close as I clean him up, peel the plastic from the paper, press it to his skin, wet it.

I'm right there. Inches from him. Touching him.

But it's not enough.

I want more than his shoulder.

I want him naked in front of me.

I want to be naked in front of him.

My blush spreads over my cheeks and chest. It's bizarre. I haven't wanted to be naked in front of someone since before my diagnosis.

My body has been my enemy.

Then a stranger.

But now, God, I want to kiss and make nice.

To get to know every inch and cranny.

Of me. Of him. Of us together—

"That's plenty of time," he says.