Page 63 of The Law of Attraction
“Now tell me about this tattoo,” he said, resting his chin in his hand. “I need to know everything.”
She shook her head. “You’re gonna laugh.”
His eyes crinkled. “I hope so.”
“It’s on the side of my rib cage.” She felt her cheeks color. “It’s the White Tree of Gondor.”
He didn’t laugh, but he did grin. “You’re a way bigger nerd than I am.”
“Are you actually shocked? After I told you about my cosplay habit? Lord of the Rings was my first fandom.”
“Cosplay’s one thing, but a tattoo’s forever. Can I see it?”
“That sounds like a dare.”
“It’s not. It’s just a question. You can answer it however you want.”
She bit down on her lip, then reached for the bottom of her T-shirt. He’d just ripped a bandage off his heart for her, so she figured she owed him one.
Slowly, she raised her shirt up to the bottom of her bra, twisting so the tattoo was facing him.
He crawled toward her on the bed for a closer look, peering at it intently. His face was only a few inches from her skin, his breath a warm tickle that sent goose bumps skittering down her arms. He lifted his hand, his fingers hovering in midair like he wanted to touch it, but he didn’t.
Something surged beneath the surface of her skin, urging her toward him and craving the touch of his fingers. But she forced herself to hold still, even though it nearly killed her.
He lowered his hand. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” She hoped it was too dark for him to see her blush as she lowered her shirt.
He flopped down on the bed beside her, cramming his pillow under his head. “Your turn.”
“Um…” She didn’t have another question ready. Her mind reeled as she curled up on her side, mirroring him. “Do you have any tattoos?” God, she was crap at this, regurgitating all his own questions at him.
“Nope,” he answered easily. “My mother would murder me.”
Damn. She’d really been hoping there was a tattoo hiding somewhere she hadn’t seen. Although, she’d seen a lot of him at this point, so that really only left his ass and his legs.
He chewed on his lip, gazing at her as he considered his next question. “Have you ever sent a nude selfie?”
She only hesitated a second before answering. “Yes.” Before he could ask a follow-up she blurted out her next question. “Favorite sexual position?”
His eyes widened slightly before skating away. Ha! She’d embarrassed him.
“You’re going to think I’m lame,” he said, rolling onto his back.
“Maybe.”
“It’s missionary.”
She snorted. She couldn’t help it. It was the most boring, vanilla possible answer.
He gave her a sheepish look without exactly looking at her. “It’s because I like the closeness and the eye contact. I told you it was lame.”
“That’s not lame. It’s almost stupidly romantic.”
Something like a smile curved his lips, but it was tinged with too much bitterness to qualify as one. “Almost stupidly romantic could be the title of my autobiography.”
“Or the title of your sex tape.”
