Holiday Sparks

His eyebrow lifted. “A virgin requires a lot of care.”

“I’m no virgin, Hartley.”

“Darlin’, your skin is pure as a virgin’s. Freckles over cream. You have to be sure. It’s forever.”

“Where does it hurt least?”

“Tattoos hurt, period.”

She turned in his arms and lifted his shirt. His abs tightened as the cool air and her equally cool fingertips hit his skin. “I love your arm, but this…” She traced the trio of words that flowed together along his ribs. “I love this.” Then she traced it with her tongue.

He groaned under her touch, his nipple tightening as her nose brushed under his pec.

“I want one here. But smaller.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. A feisty grin slid across her full lips. “Do you want to pop my cherry, Ben?”

His cock throbbed. “Fuck, Dar

cy.” How many women had said similar things to him over the years? Too many to count. But he’d never done more than laugh after his first few years as a shop rat for his mentor.

He wanted to mark her with his ink. More than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

“You’re the only one I would trust.” She shimmied out of her sweater, leaving behind a lacy bra that had an extra panel of material between the cups.. Her toffee-colored nipples tented the cotton, showing through the lace.

“How the hell am I going to concentrate with you wearing that?”

She looked down. “It’s just a cami-bra.”

“Whatever it is,” he ducked his head and sucked a wet spot around her nipple, “I like it.”

She sifted her fingers through his hair. “You cut it.”

“I looked like a boy band reject.”

Darcy smiled down at him. “I like it.” She scraped her nails through the messy short strands along the top. “A lot.”

He stood up, drawing the tip of his finger around her nipple one last time before dropping his hand. “Do you really want to do this?”

She nodded. “Here.” She moved down an inch from the bottom of her bra along her right side. “Hope.”

“It will hurt there.” He smoothed the pad of his thumb along the top of her rib. “It’s close to bone.”

“I broke my ankle once. Anything like that kind of pain?”

He smiled. “Not even close.”

“I’ll survive.”

“Hop on the chair and lie on your side with your arm up over your head. There’s a grip bar up there if you need to grab on to something. Your tattoo artist appreciates it if it’s not his gun arm.”

She nodded, sawing at her lower lip again. “Okay.”

“You don’t have to do this, Darcy.”

“I know. I want to believe in hope again. Maybe if I see it on me every day I will.”