Page 99 of Fast

“Yeah. That felt very fitting. That’s how I’ve been feeling since I lost my twin brother. So, here we are.”

“Is it finished?” I ask.

“Almost. We’re gonna keep Atlas in black ink, and add color to the globe.”

He opens the tube, but I take it from him. “Let me.”

Ares’s silver eyes are fixed on me as I squeeze some of the cream on my fingers.

I will my hand not to tremble as I brush my fingers over the side of his ribcage. It’s tentative at first. I almost expect Ares to move away from me, repelled by my touch.

He doesn’t move, and I begin tracing the lines of the tattoo, spreading the antiseptic cream on his reddened skin.

It suddenly feels as if there isn’t enough air in the room, and I can feel my heartbeat in my ears and between my legs.

“Sorry, I need to reach over there.” I point to the spot where part of Atlas’s body wraps around Ares’s rib, and I shift closer.

I’m practically sitting in his lap, as I squeeze another dollop of cream onto the tips of my fingers.

Ares gasps when I touch him again.

“Sorry, does it hurt?”

He shakes his head, and I realize that he didn’t jump because I hurt him. He’s trying not to laugh.

His lips are flattened in the effort to keep from laughing, hut the corners are curled up despite his best efforts.

“Ares Hunter,” I tease him. “Are you ticklish?”

“No.” He snorts, his eyes creasing at the corners. “It’s the way you’re touching me. You’re trying to tickle me, you bad girl.”

My mouth opens in an outraged littleo. “How dare you? I was just trying to be helpful.” I let out an exaggerated gasp.

“Well then,” he closes his fingers around my wrist, moving my hand away from his side to his chest, where the top part of the tattoo sits. “Help me where it doesn’t tickle like hell.”

It’s impossible to contain my satisfaction at getting a rise out of my stoic, composed stepbrother. “Soyou areticklish.” I smirk.

Ares isn’t just sexy. He’s also one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met, myself included. “No, I’m not ticklish. It’s just the way you’re touching me. That side is done. Just put the cream elsewhere.”

My eyes descend to where my hand is splayed over the center of his chest, slightly on the left side.

Rippling muscle is encased under his smooth and taut skin. His heart is beating loud and fast under my fingertips

I should probably keep rubbing the cream on the tattoo, but I can’t move. I relish the feeling of his warm skin, the awareness that I’m the cause of his quickened pulse.

“Princess?” the low rumble of his voice pulls me out of my lust-induced daze. “You’re getting cream all over your hoodie.”

“Oh, fuck.” My eyes descend to my chest, and I realize that I shifted and we’re chest to chest, my fingers now drifting on the small section of tattoo that reaches Ares’s shoulder. “I’ve gotten way too much cream, and it’s gone from you to me. This is going to stain. I can’t go to the Zetas sleepover like this.”

All the blue swirls in Ares’s irises have been engulfed by a dark, slate gray. “Don’t worry. I can either take you home to get changed, or you can borrow one of my hoodies.”

“Thank you.” I murmur. “Do you mind lending me one of yours? If we bump into Heather going home, she’s going to drag me into a full-blown makeover session. I’m not in the mood for it.”

The truth is that I don’t want to go home. I want to stay here, with him.

“Sounds good,” Ares says. “I should have something you can use.”

He pushes me away from his chest, just enough that he can grab the pull tab of the zipper that opens right under my breasts.

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