How the Hitman Stole Christmas - Page 63

I’m completely relaxed as he works his fingers through my hair, shampooing and conditioning for me. We make out as he turns me around and rinses the last of the soap bubbles from my hair.

Even when I step out of the shower, Jasper wraps me up in a big, fluffy towel.

I figured he’d ruin me for all other men, but I wasn’t prepared for all this.

I’ve never felt so at peace as I do when Jasper and I return to our bedroom. I don’t bother with clothes tonight, and neither does he. We’re both naked as we burrow under the blankets, the sheets nice and cool against our heated skin.

“See, showering with me isn’t so bad, is it?” he teases.

I sigh blissfully and burrow closer to his side, soaking up his body heat. “You’ve ruined my life. I hope you feel good about that.”

A shock of laughter slips out of him as he slides his arm under me and tugs me against him. “How did I do that?”

I slide him a look to communicate you know what you did, but I don’t answer the big wonderful jerk, I just close my eyes and enjoy the way his skin feels against mine.

Cuddling with him is so nice. I never want it to end, but as my eyes start to feel heavy, I know I need to talk, otherwise I’ll fall right to sleep.

Reaching over and rubbing his upper left arm, I ask, “Do these have any significance?”

Jasper glances over at his arm. “Sure.” He shifts to get his arm free, then lifts his other arm and points to a spot just above his elbow. It’s an intricate M with thorny vines growing around it. “This one is to let people in my world know who I work for. Just in case I got into a bad situation with some people and they wanted to hurt me. This lets them know who they might piss off if they kill me.”

My eyebrows rise. I was expecting something far less practical. “Oh. Does everyone have one?”

He shakes his head. “Not everyone, but I like having it. I think it shows loyalty, doing something so permanent to display your fealty. I also like the family I work for, so I like being associated with them.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good,” I murmur.

He nods, turning his arm slowly so I can see the design that wraps from the middle of his bicep to his wrist. It’s intricate and complicated with a twisted clock with roman numerals and all the gears and mechanisms that make a clock work. Some of the gears are cracked to fit with the broken aesthetic, but it’s a really beautiful piece of artwork. Above the intricate design toward his inner bicep is a compass, connected to the design, but still a bit separate.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, running my fingers lightly over his taut muscle. “Does that one mean anything?”

“It means a few things. Mostly just about my lifestyle, the feeling of time running out, you don’t know when your clock stops, stuff like that.” He shrugs, dropping his arm back against the bed.

“And the compass?”

He cracks a smile, reaching his arm back under me so he can hold me again. “Moral compass.”

I nod slightly, settling back in against him. “I like them. Are you done, or are you planning to get more?”

“I might get a few more, if the mood strikes me. Any suggestions?” he asks lightly.

I nod my head. I’m mostly joking, I don’t expect him to actually memorialize me on his body, but I tease him anyway. “You should get one to remind you of me.”

“Oh, should I?”

I nod more fervently, even though I’m not serious. “I think it’s only fair, on account of you ruining my life.”

He rolls his eyes at my dramatics, but looks down at his chest anyway, as if scoping out a spot for it. “I could probably do that.”

“What would you get? My name, or something that would remind you of me?”

“I think I’d get a snowflake,” he states, rubbing his left pectoral. “Right around here.”

I smile, delighted. “A snowflake?”

“A badass snowflake, of course.”

I giggle, curling a little closer and running my hand over the spot he picked out. “Well, of course a badass snowflake. No wimpy snowflakes on this sexy body.”

“Certainly not,” he says, playing along and giving me an affectionate squeeze.

I sigh contentedly, closing my eyes and just enjoying the feeling of snuggling with him. “Are you a gambler?” I ask after a moment, my eyes still closed.

He sounds mildly surprised. “Me? Not really. I play some poker now and then, but I wouldn’t say I’m a big gambler. Why?”

“You took a pretty big gamble in the shower tonight,” I say, opening my eyes and raising my eyebrows at him.

“Nah,” he says with playful cockiness. “I knew what I was doing. No way that could have gone bad.”

Tags: Sam Mariano Romance
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