Page 88 of Whisper

Abandoning the blanket, I straightened, staring at him from the other side of the bed. “Who says I have tattoos?” I said it teasingly, but it came out husky and low.

“Please, bear,” he said, obviously beyond flirting, making me think maybe I wasn’t the only one affected by the hum of craving filling the room.

I ripped the shirt over my head, tossing it aside so he could look his fill. The room was silent, but the heart thundering between my ears was loud. Matthew’s molten stare swept over me, meticulously examining every inch of my newly bared skin. As he perused, he came around the bed, my shoes clunking lightly over the carpet because he hadn’t bothered to tie them.

My breath became labored, my chest tight as I anticipated his arrival, the air crackling with every centimeter he closed between us.

I turned when he rounded the corner of the bed, rotating so we were facing each other, swallowing thickly when his hands reached out.

My lashes fluttered when the pads of his fingers brushed over my shoulder, dragging ever so lightly down the side of my arm, flirting dangerously with my armpit.

“Lift,” he said, and I raised my left arm over my head.

He made a soft sound, the pads of four fingers dragging over the sheet music covering the inside of my upper arm. The design itself didn’t cover my armpit, but a few rogue notes came dangerously close. The bar lines curved around my bicep, creating a cuff around my arm. More music notes in assorted sizes floated on the bar, and as he pulled my arm down, I flexed the muscles to make them move.

His perusal didn’t stop there, instead dragging from my arm over to my pec where he brushed a finger over the barbel through my nipple before trailing beneath it to the black-inked heartbeat that gave way to a chord that was connected to a small pair of headphones.

Goose bumps pebbled my arms, every brush of his skin against mine sweet torture, but I didn’t want to give it up, too greedy for his attention. Following that thought, I lifted my arm again and shifted to give him a full view of my side.

He made a faint sound, completely riveted by the large strand of DNA stretching from the top of my ribcage all the way down to disappear into the waistband of my pants.

At the top, he traced the large treble clef, dragging down to follow the three sections of DNA that were filled in with sheet music and small notes. When he reached the end, his finger dipped inside the waistband of my pants and tugged. “Is there more beneath here?” he asked, voice raspy.

In response, I worked the belt open, popped the buttons, and unzipped the fly.

His dark eyes lifted from my open invitation, and everything in the room stood still when our stares met.

“Is it okay, bear?” he whispered.

“Baby, the way I feel right now, you could light me on fire and then fan the flames and I’d fucking love it,” I admitted.

His lips folded in, and my heart skipped. After a moment, he grabbed the waistband of my chinos and boxers to tug the fabric down and reveal my hip.

The DNA strand stopped with a bass clef, but the edges fanned out into different styles of musical notes floating over my hip.

Matthew made a sound, and even though he stared at the ink, I saw the corner of his mouth curl up. “I didn’t think there’d actually be more ink. I just thought you wanted me to pull down your pants.”

I smiled. “Didn’t you see the ink in the locker room?”

His lashes fluttered, eyes remaining downcast. “No, I was too busy looking at something else.”

My insides rumbled with pleasure. “So do you like?”

His stare was like a double shot of espresso—dark, strong, and delivering a boost of energy right into my veins. “The tattoos or your dick?”

Oh, this brat.

I arched my eyebrow, and he smirked. “Both,” I replied.

Suddenly bashful, his attention turned downcast, finger lightly tracing over a musical note. “There isn’t anything about you I don’t like.”

Desire had me in a chokehold, my throat so tight it was painful to swallow. Once I did, I asked, “Do you want to see the others?”

He shook his head, fingers creeping toward the center of my open pants.

“What do you want, then?”

The need blazing in his stare caught my breath and said so much more than words ever could. As did his fingers when they delved into the coarse curls above my dick.

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