Page 72 of Hold Me Today

He says nothing, shoulders tense under his light coat. Gradually his expression eases, and I heft out a big sigh of relief. “Inside of my thigh,” he says, patting his leg.

“With an arrow pointing straight to your crotch.”

Nick snorts. “Nothing says classy quite like a dick tattoo.”

“That’s the spirit.”

As one, we reach for the door handles to climb out of the car. I pause as I crank open my door, one foot planted on the cracked concrete. I look over my shoulder at the man who, in theory, should only be my best friend’s older brother but who is quickly becoming so much more.

As though sensing my hesitation, Nick, already out of the car, drops down so he can peer through his open door at me. “What’s wrong?”

“Let me choose yours.” I say the words quickly, like I’m ripping off a thick bandage.

Nothing in his expression so much as twitches. “My tattoo?”

“Yes.” Nervous, I lick my dry lips and then drag my clammy hands over my jean-clad thighs. “You choose mine and I choose yours. Trust, both ways.”

He considers me silently with one of his unreadable looks. Just when I’m certain he’s about to turn me down flat, he thumps his hand on the car’s roof. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Never,” I vow.

24

Mina

Nick and I meet with two tattoo artists. We sit down separately, each detailing exactly what we want the other inked with, all while casting glances at each other from across the room. I’m careful to keep my voice low, except for when I boldly claim, “Yeah, we’re gonna need a bigger arrow than that.”

Nick jerks in my direction, those pillow-soft lips (now confirmed for softness!) pulling to the side in a sexy smirk.Do it and die, he mouths.

I toss him a kiss and turn back to the artist who’ll be working on Nick. Carefully, I explain to him my thoughts, going so far as to head to Pinterest on my phone and scope out a specific example. It has to be perfect, something Nick will look at years from now and always remember this night.

Always rememberme.

“There’s a lot of detail work here,” says the bearded artist, Zach. He has ear gauges big enough for me to stick my finger through and dark, messy hair combed over to the right. He looks like the quintessential tattoo artist, save for the fact that he has no visible ink.

I nod at his assessment. “I know. Do you think you can pull it off?”

His rugged features crease with a wicked grin. “’Course I can. So long as your boyfriend here doesn’t mind it on his arm or ribcage. I need a good canvas to work with.”

Boyfriend.

I guess, technically, wearedating. According to the online world, at least.

Still, the word elicits tingles I’d rather it not as I lean back on the rolling stool and shout at myboyfriend, “Any boundaries on your body off-limits?” When his gaze flashes with heat, I thrust a finger at him. “Anywhere elsebesidesThe Great One, I mean?”

Nick throws his head back with a deep, rumbling laugh. “I’ll leave that one to you,koukla. I’m at your expense.”

“Disposal.”

He stares at me blankly.

“The saying is ‘I’m at your disposal’ not ‘expense.’” I pause, then mutter, “You know what? Just add it to that book of yours.”

Turning back to Zach, I plant my elbows on the table. “The ribcage will do nicely, I think.”

* * *

Nick chooses script for me.

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