Page 7 of Make Me Dream of You

“And so are you,” I say. “When you’re not being a bitch.”

We smile at each other while she flips me off and says, “Love you, too.”

Livvy looks up at me, finally. “Her tattoo is gorgeous. You do really nice work.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve been thinking about getting something for a little while, actually.” She looks away after she says it, her thick lashes fanning against her pink cheeks.

“Do you have any tattoos?”

“No.”

The thought of giving her her first tattoo, of marking her virgin skin, makes my chest tighten and my dick harden.

What the fuck, Dixon?

“Well, you can come by. Anytime,” I say coolly, like the thought of it isn’t inexplicably turning me on.

“Okay,” she says. “Have you done any of your own tattoos?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see?”

I run my tongue along the edges of my teeth. “They’re on my thighs.”

“Oh,” she says, her eyes widening.

Her plump lips stay parted as her cheeks blush a light pink. And now I’m wondering what shade of pink she turns when her whole body is flushed.

Fuck.

If only she wasn’t my ex’s little sister.

It’s late when I get home, as usual. The last several days at work have been exhausting. I did a six-hour shoulder piece today. My back hurts. And I just want to talk to her.

I check my phone. No messages.

It’s been almost a week since I’ve heard from her.

I toss my keys on the stainless steel countertop and slam my phone down next. The sound echoes around the kitchen and rings in my ears.

“What’s up, bro?” Wood saunters out of his room. He’s wearing loose gray sweats, no shirt.

“She’s not online. Still.”

“Ah,” he says, getting a sports drink out of the fridge. “The girl of your dreams.”

“A Gatorade? At midnight?”

“Got to replenish those electrolytes after cardio.” He winks.

Of course. “You can’t give me crap for my online girl when you have a different one every week.”

“Touché.” He takes a big swig of his drink. “But at least I put myself out there. Leave it to you to stay conveniently closed off to love in real life, only to become completely obsessed with some anonymous girl online.”

“I’m not obsessed.” I am.

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