Firefighter Unicorn (Fire & Rescue Shifters 6)

“Hugh?” she said, knocking on the door frame as she entered. “I think we need to—“

And what she thought they needed to do radically altered in her mind, because he was wearing a towel.

He’d clearly just finished his shower. His white hair stuck up in tousled spikes, while his bare torso gleamed with moisture. The towel wrapped around his waist barely came midway down his lean, muscled thighs.

He’d frozen, his hand white-knuckled on his towel. He stared at her as if she’d entered wearing a lacy negligee rather than mismatched tartan flannel.

She should turn and run. She should apologize. She should at least close her eyes.

Instead she blurted out, stupidly, “You’ve got tattoos.”

Hugh’s throat worked convulsively. “Yes.”

Ivy took a step forward, fascinated despite herself. It was the last thing she would ever have expected, from his upper-class accent and sophisticated manner. But he was inked from chest to elbow like a dockhand.

An intricate black snake twisted around a staff in the center of his chest. Twining vines spread out across his pecs and looped over his shoulders. They curled down his arms in elegant spirals, emphasizing the hard swells of his biceps.

The design was beautiful, but oddly unbalanced. His left arm was a riot of springtime foliage, each tiny leaf exquisitely detailed. But on his right arm, the vines were mostly bare. Only a few dry, dead leaves clung to them, as if a winter wind had swept the rest away.

Hugh turned away, revealing more vines and leaves inked across his shoulder blades. Ivy knew that she shouldn’t stare, but she couldn’t tear herself away. He was a living piece of art, even more breath-taking than she could ever have imagined.

He opened his wardrobe, the leaves twining around his left arm seeming to stir as his muscles flexed. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Why?” They must have taken hours upon hours of agony—it was difficult to permanently tattoo shifters, what with their rapid healing. She couldn’t imagine going through all that, only to keep the end result secret.

He turned back a little to give her one of his sharp, humorless smiles. “Because people would ask what they mean.”

Her fingertips longed to trace the inked lines. To follow the curving black paths over his gleaming skin, spiraling tantalizingly close to his taut nipples before sweeping up toward his collarbones, over his muscled shoulders, around and down…

As he pulled a pair of trousers out of the wardrobe, Ivy abruptly became aware of just how long she’d been staring at him. Face heating, she turned on her heel, staring fixedly at the wall as cloth rustled behind her.

Our mate is naked now, her wyvern pointed out helpfully.

Ivy squeezed her eyes shut. “So, uh, guess I shouldn’t ask what they mean, huh?”

He was silent for a long moment, so long that she very nearly turned around to look at him. Then, “Come here,” he said.

She turned, and sucked in a startled breath. He’d pulled on a pair of soft jogging pants, but his torso was still bare. He met her eyes steadily, his own dark and still. She couldn’t interpret his expression.

“Come here,” he repeated, holding out his hand. “Lie down with me, and I’ll tell you about my tattoos.”

She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn’t help going to him. Gently, he drew her down onto the bed, tucking her under his arm.

“Is this a good idea?” she murmured, as her head settled onto his bare shoulder

He stroked her hair back from her neck. “How many layers of clothing are you wearing?”

She had to stop and think about that one. “Six. Including two pairs of underwear.”

His chuckle vibrated through her chest. “Then I think we’re safe.”

His arousal was obvious, but his arms were gentle, holding her without asking for more. The sweetness of the embrace brought strange tears to the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away, ignoring the longing pooling between her own thighs.

“Tell me about your tattoos,” she whispered.

He tapped the center of his chest. “I got the Staff of Asclepius during my final year of medical school. A cliché, I know. In my defense, I was blind drunk at the time.”

She traced the twisting snake with a gloved finger. “I thought the symbol for a doctor had two sn